The Library

Emma and I decided to go to the Metro Toronto Reference Library for our writing pod yesterday. When we arrived there was a huge crowd of people standing outside. We thought it was a protest of some kind, but no; they were just waiting for the doors to open. (I’m embarrassed to admit this, but it’s been years since I’ve been inside a library. Now that my children are adults and both read and buy books regularly, I guess I must feel that my job is done.)
Anyway, once we were inside the library, I was surprised at the number of people using laptops while simultaneously gabbing loudly away to anyone who would listen. To escape all the noise, Emma and I moved to another floor to write in peace and quiet. But it wasn’t until I was flipping through an old copy of Maclean’s magazine later at home that I realized I hadn’t looked at a single book while I was at the library.
The article that prompted this observation was on the “Living Library” concept. Apparently there are libraries around the world with certain people available for patrons to talk to—a police officer, a homeless person or a witch, for example. No question is off limits, and it’s all about relaxing prejudices by gaining information. Up until now I’ve been happy enough with own at-home stash of reading material, but maybe it’s time to update my library card and find out what is really going on there.