Books for All

I wanted to continue a little bit on the book issues I brought up last week.  In the original post on Kottke, one commenter brought up that the service which Tim Carmody and all the rest of us were thinking about already existed, and it’s called “the library.”  I wrote this off as somewhat impractical, but then again (just like the unlimited book service itself), it depends on what kind of reader you are and what you like to read.

Up until tonight, my public library card was 3 years out of date.  In grad school, the library had become a place where I went to sweat over papers and flip my way through 15 research books at a time before taking out maybe 2, almost exclusively non-fiction. Suddenly, after I graduated, I became allergic to libraries, despite having a newly renovated one an easy walk away.

This may be an out-of-date attitude, but I like to own books, especially books by authors I love.  As you might imagine, I like a lot of authors, who have written a lot of books, so I own a lot.  Yet, there are so many more out there that I look at and have to make a call.  My thought process goes something like this: “Hmm, that sounds interesting, but I don’t know the author, the critics love it, but will I love it? Do I really want to spend money on this, even used?” I was trolling around The Millions today, and found myself deep in New Book Curiosity.  Suddenly I had a wish list 10 books long, and an equally long face to match.  Suddenly Allan Quatermain was not looking as awesome, despite his excellently geeky hair and constant near-death experiences.  Aw, who am I kidding, that’s good reading!  But the Itch for new books could be scratched with only one thing.

So, that’s how I found myself in the new books section of my local library, suddenly feeling like I had the world on a plate.  It was overwhelming, knowing suddenly that I could pick up any of these books in front of me, take them home, and read them.  All those books!  For free!  Obviously I’d have to bring them back… but in that moment the feeling of something wonderful opening itself out before me, like a carpet being rolled out or, appropriately, like a book being opened, was all the mattered. I wasn’t close to tears at all, but I was close to being close to tears, for a couple seconds.  That may also be because I’d had a beer before taking my walk to the library, and was still a little loose-limbed and maudlin by the time I got there.  Depending on how you look at it, I’m either the ultimate lightweight or a really cheap date.

True to form, just as I do with shopping, I ended up with nothing I had wanted originally, but am very happy to have now.  That’s my lot in life, but I still got a good haul, no?  Something to curl up in bed with, and maybe something to curl up in bed with while someone else, with their own book, is curled up next to me.