The Library Book

by Susan Orlean

The general public didn’t really agree on the value of public libraries until the end of the nineteenth century. Before that, libraries were viewed as scholarly and elite, rather than an indispensable and democratic public resource. Many public libraries still had membership fees. The change of attitude began with the philanthropy of Scottish businessman Andrew Carnegie, who launched a library-building project in 1890. Carnegie was born in Scotland and then emigrated to the United States. His father was a weaver, and the family teetered between poverty and modest comfort throughout his childhood. As a young boy, he had little money to spare; for instance, he couldn’t afford the two-dollar membership fee for the local library. Eventually, he made a fortune in steel and railroads, and at one time he was the richest man in the world. When he reached middle age, he decided to commit the last third of his life to giving away his money. The disappointment of not being able to afford the local library had stuck with him, and he chose libraries as one of the main beneficiaries of his philanthropy. He offered large grants to build libraries in communities that would commit to supporting them with tax revenues. Towns and cities began lobbying to get Carnegie funding, and the process of applying had the effect of rallying interest and support for public libraries. Carnegie ended up building nearly 1,700 libraries in 1,400 communities. He funded six small libraries in Los Angeles, whi...

Because the need for librarians was so great, the usual male resistance to opening ranks was overridden by the urgency for more staff. Moreover, as an 1876 article titled “How to Make Town Libraries Successful” suggested, even highly educated women could be offered lower pay than male librarians and still be willing to take the job.

How effing rude

No matter how hard the fans spun, the heat in the building defeated them. The administration decided on a policy of closing the library when the temperature rose over 95 degrees—that is, when the inside of the building reached 95 degrees. At 94 and below, it was business as usual. More often than not, the radiators were raging even in the thick of a heat wave. They seemed to have a mind of their own that was unrelated to any thermostat. Patrons sweated. The librarians were miserable. They kept records of the temperature in their departments in order to document the misery and make a formal complaint. For instance, these appeared in the History Department’s record of one beastly June: 6/3. Temperature 78°. in History Department. Building grossly overheated. 6/5. Temperature 81°. Building still grossly overheated. Patrons complaining. 6/6. Temperature 82.5°. Extremely humid and uncomfortable but heat on!!!! 6/10. Temperature 82°. Constant enervating heat 6/11. Temperature 90°. Smog like pea soup. Heat BLASTING! 6/18. Temperature 91°. RIDICULOUS CONDITIONS 6/19. Temperature 89°. HORRID 6/20. Temperature 88°. UNBEARABLE 6/21. Temperature 104°. It is totally ridiculous that people are forced to work under these conditions . . . terrible heat makes this a HELL! . . . This is outrageous. 6/22. Thermometer stolen. Unfortunately, the library was aging exactly when the mood in the city was for anything new, new, new. New neighborhoods, new buildings, and new roads bubbled up, while ...

I thought about my mother, who died when I was halfway done with this book, and I knew how pleased she would have been to see me in the library, and I was able to use that thought to transport myself for a split second to a time when I was young and she was in the moment, alert and tender, with years ahead of her, and she was beaming at me as I toddled to the checkout counter with an armload of books. I knew that if we had come here together, to this enchanted place of stucco and statuary and all the stories in the world for us to have, she would have reminded me just about now that if she could have chosen any profession in the world, she would have been a librarian.