The Library September 11, 2019

This post is rather unpleasant, but it must be said that the little library in Point Reyes Station, as sweet, as well-stocked, and as friendly as it is, is not conducive to reading, writing, homework, or contemplation – any of the activities one might associate with a public library.  As one of my friends said recently in response to my frustration, “This isn’t your mother’s library.”  

Indeed it isn’t.  In a little town where everyone knows each other, perhaps peace is too much to ask for.  No one in this library speaks softly, staff included.  Every conversation happens at full-throat, and there is certainly no shushing.  The library is the nexus for a variety of groups, such as the knitters, a surprisingly chatty bunch.  Really, knitters?  Isn’t there some other venue for knitting in town?

Or how about the after-school clutch of pre-adolescent boys who seem to have nowhere to go and no interest other than video games?  There they are, on a daily basis, their unlocked bikes and helmets piled up against the rack to signal their takeover, tethered as they are to the screens by headphones and shouting to each other across the room about their cyber adventures.

On one occasion, as I was cowering in a corner trying to concentrate, the librarian offered me noise-cancelling headphones, and I then noticed that a number of the other older readers were similarly adorned.  I welcomed the auditory armor.

As much respect as the library has for its knitters, gamers, and clubs, couldn’t there also be some respect for the person who just comes looking for a space to catch up on books and periodicals, write a term paper, or peruse the internet?  I think so.