Love for the library
A couple of weeks ago I wrote about the local meeting I went to about the fate of my local library, and also wrote a rather furious open letter to the head of Somerset County Council.
Well, it seems Shepton Mallet library has been saved from definite closure. The local powers-that-be have said they've noted the response to their public consultation, and instead propose to cut hours across all libraries by 20% and only (!) put six libraries at risk of closure this year. It should be noted that this isn't set in stone yet.
This is a bitter sweet victory. Whilst I am, of course, hugely relieved that Shepton's library may well survive, I am still deeply upset about the loss of the other libraries – undoubtedly just as loved and depended upon as my local one.
On Saturday, there are "Love Our Library" events happening all over the country, and I will be going to the one in Shepton Mallet. But I know many of you, dear readers, are in different parts of the UK, in America and also Australia, so I thought it might be nice to do something here to build up to the 5th together.
Something that has struck me about all the people I've spoken to online and in person about the threat to the libraries is how personal this threat feels. I think it's because we're united by a common experience: powerful, visceral memories of the joy libraries gave us as children. So many people, including myself, remember a childhood in impoverished towns, in which the weekly trip to the library had the magical significance of entering Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory. I want to share my shiniest, brightest memory from my library, and would love you to share yours too.
Camborne library: the bright centre of the universe
I grew up in a small mining town in Cornwall. Many of my friend's fathers were miners in South Crofty tin mine, one that shut whilst I was still in primary school. It was a typical depressed town crippled by the loss of the mine, and at one point, it had 30% unemployment. I don't recall any bookshops, there might have been a WHSmiths, but back then they were probably still just a newsagent.
Outside Camborne library there is a statue of the town's famous son Richard Trevithick. Every time I went to the library, I'd look up at him and feel the sense of pride my primary school had instilled in me. "We might be a tiny, forgotten town," it used to say, "But that doesn't stop you doing something amazing that can change the world."
It was a good message to get on the way into the library.
The moment I want to share with you, one which changed the course of my life, happened in this very library. Even now I can see the light streaming in through the high windows, countless motes of dust tumbling in the cavernous space and everywhere books, books, books! Ones I could thumb through and sit with and explore and choose to take home. Bliss.
I don't know what day it was, or my exact age (I think about 7 or 8 years old) but I do remember drifting along the bookshelves, that delicious, musty, unmistakably bookish smell filling me. I came across a shelf I hadn't yet discovered, a book was sticking out a little further than the rest. I reached up and plucked it out. It had a cover unlike any I had seen before.
It was Trillions, by Nicholas Fisk. It was the first science-fiction book I had ever really seen, let alone read. I sat down, read the first page and that was it. The beginning of a journey that led me to Asimov, Moorcock, Wyndham, Bester and of course, my hero, Ray Bradbury.
And what do I write now? Speculative fiction, with large dollops of sci-fi. What is the genre of my debut novel? Dystopian, set in post-apocalyptic London. I can truly say that day in Camborne library changed my life forever.
What's your brightest library memory? I'd love it if you could either share it in the comments, or if you want to write a post, please do put the link in a comment so we can all share each others memories.
