Hey, . If I told you that libraries, once bustling with droves of eager readers, would slowly disappear into the abyss one day, would you believe me?
There’s something happening to libraries right now. And it should alarm us.
There are a few places that give me that nostalgic warmth, the type of comfort from my idyllic childhood. My after-school hours were spent wandering to my nearby red-weathered brick library, leafing through books, transfixed by their covers and the dizzying array of emotions they stirred in me.
Among them were the usual favorites I would return to again and again — Bridge to Terabithia, The Giver, Tuck Everlasting, & eventually the Harry Potter series, of course. I still remember the remnants of cigarette and hours-old coffee on his breath when my Teacher, Mr. Johnson, would sternly tell my classmates and me never to abandon books, visit libraries, and hold on to what was hard-fought for.
Hard-fought for? What does that even mean? Of course, my naive 12-year-old mind, spoiled by teeming libraries & active book clubs offered in school, wouldn’t understand this perplexing statement, but in the near future, “hard-fought for” would materialize in real time.
I never understood why Mr. Johnson was so passionate about physical books — books mostly written by authors who predate even me or you — and I never saw the value in libraries either, or what they offered me: a safe haven, a third space to nourish my reading habits. Yeah, I loved going to them, sure. And I felt proud at my impressionable age of 12, the hard laminate library card in hand, pretending it was my credit card that I would show to the librarian behind the tall, brown, cedar-smelling counter in exchange for a book. My spindly arms would hoist my stack of books to her, proudly smiling as she told me, “Wow, you’ve maxed out on books this month.”
I don’t think my children will ever know that feeling, nor will future generations to come. Sorry if that sounds a bit pessimistic.
Because Generation Alpha — weird way to label an entire generation — are the least privileged when it comes to the invaluable gift that libraries have given for thousands of years — a sanctuary that holds so much collective history, artistry in words, and stories that can carry beyond any one of our lifetimes.
You’re right, Mr. Johnson. Libraries, once seen as something of luxury, an aristocratic privilege, a gatekept realm to serve as a way to reinforce the classist divide amongst the wealthy and the poor, are now shells of nothingness, no foot traffic, no visitors to the dust-cloaked books that remain. Those who fought to give every human being, whether poor or rich, endless access to books are probably rolling over in their grave right now because children and most adults spend 7+ hours on average glaring at a flat portable screen in their pockets instead of a book.
Or, the fact that when children are even in the library, they look for the nearest computer to give them that quick hit of Roblox dopamine their mind is helplessly hooked on.
We’ve parted ourselves from the library for a cold, soulless digital void.
Did we ever ask for a digital library?
I hate my e-book, my Kindle, my Apple iPad Pro. Absolutely hate them.
And I don’t plan to ever update them once wear and tear starts to accumulate. Oh, and let me not forget to mention the reading apps — ugh, don’t even get me started on the apps. I despise them.
Libby
Hooopla
BorrowBox
Open Library
Kindle Unlimited
Scribd
Audible
Goodreads
The list goes on and on…..
Humans always have a tendency to destroy what was once beautiful and beneficial to all of us, only for the profit of a few. We self-destruct time and time again. And now, libraries have sunk into the hollow, ever-growing, and ever-expanding vortex of the digital world.
This forever severing us from the tactile feel of textured pages and the smell of old print wafting from books — books with hard covers that yearned for the gliding of fingernails across them — that alone gave a pure rush of dopamine to earnest readers ready to dive headfirst into any book.
We traded all of this for books to be swallowed into a digital prison, with all their decadent pages and words locked behind a screen surrounded by a cold-metal casing in the shape of a square, making book burning easier for Big Tech.
Book burning, you say? Yes. It’s happening. Why wouldn’t it? Because it’s all about control in the end.
There’s an obvious thirst for control through tech, and the quickest way to control millions by the hands of a few is by severing people from pages, books, and authors, essentially warping our history and blurring our ability to decipher truth and falsehoods.
In the article, “Why is TikTok in This Book from 2006,” written by The New York Times, readers reported finding word swaps and changes in books to appeal to younger readers.
I can only think of one word to describe this: horrifying.
You see, in a digital prism, books can be changed in the snap of a finger, at the whims and wishes of those who rule Big Tech — what will be fact and fiction anymore? What will be true or false? How will we stay connected to our history and the authors whose words moved entire cultures?
You alienate people from gathering (libraries), and you destroy community. And then you take the information and own it (books in a digital prison). You have control.
Do you see where we are heading here?
We need a library renaissance
There’s a simple fix to all of this, but of course it’s easier said than done. But renaissances and revolutions, like a fire in the wind, can sweep through countries' borders, piercing the hearts and minds of people.
We are already witnessing this now. Across social media feeds, people are crying out for community; brain-rot-combating movements are picking up; and there's an urgent need for slowness and connection to our most humanistic roots—nature & kinship, surrounded by books and the physical warmth of a person next to you in that shared experience.
And all of this takes place in the library.
But who would have known that the final trade we made with our library card was the card itself.
Push To Read Silent Book Club (Weekly Chat)
I’m running a low-pressure reading space for all of my subscribers. Here are the conditions:
Read whatever you want.
Every Friday, you drop the page number that you’ve read up to. You can also share a favorite quote or snippet from the book you’re currently reading.
There’s zero pressure. You can read 3 or even 50 pages. Whatever works for you.
The point is to keep us all motivated and consistently reading. See you there. [Join Here]