Having Fun Isn't Hard When You've Got a Library Card
3+ mini book reviews, 1 long PSA to support your public library
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Good evening from my apartment. I hope this reaches you wherever you might be, since it feels like the rest of you are on vacation somewhere or another.
But that's okay! I'm happily grazing on two slices of cake while I write: one of pillowy coconut and black sesame cream, one of decadent lemon curd and strawberry. I’ve also been busying myself by wandering in Brooklyn’s sunny parks, breathing in the relaxing scent of blooming lavender at Lavender by the Bay, and even painting, though I am not very good at it. All of this, of course, is between reading lots of books.
The (Library) Books
Despite frequenting what feels like every bookstore in a 25-mile radius, all my recent reading has been done courtesy of the library. Libby is my constant companion, and I recently rushed to the newly-rennovated Brooklyn Heights Public Library in 90-degree heat for immediate access to a particular book series (more below). Did you know that the Brooklyn Public Library system will let you take out 50 physical books at a time, and 20 e-books?
Anyway, onward.
“My ego had always been an issue. I knew that intellectual attainment was morally neutral at best, but when bad things happened to me I made myself feel better by thinking about how smart I was.”
―Sally Rooney, Conversations with Friends
I have finally finished all of Sally Rooney's novels, rounding out my time spent with sad Irish hotties by reading Conversations With Friends. The book, which traces the interconnected relationships between a married couple and two college students/erstwhile lovers, was unfortunately extremely good. Rooney does an impressive job exposing the interiority of people who, if met in real life, would seem absolutely frigid and incapable of human emotion. Exploring the little things people do to shift and understand power dynamics is Rooney's forté, and I eat that shit up. (Read on Kindle after borrowing through the Libby app.)
“She wanted to pause, magnify, and live in the split seconds when their arms brushed against each other. And that was her principal vice, wasn't it? Desiring to be entirely consumed by any and every moment that quenched the hungry howling loneliness that sat curled down down inside herself.”
―Francesca Ekwuyasi, Butter Honey Pig Bread
I also finished Butter Honey Pig Bread by Francesca Ekwuyasi, a debut novel of gorgeous design that follows the lives of three Nigerian women after a terrible trauma. The narration is split between the mother and her two twins, tracing their lives through their choices, friendships, and lovers, and coalesces into a mysterious and bewitching tale with elements of magical realism. I particularly appreciated the special attention to descriptions of food, as my favorite character sank herself into learning about all kinds of cuisine as a coping mechanism. (Read on Libby.)
“The habit of narration, of crafting something miraculous out of the commonplace, was hard to break. Narration came naturally after a time spent in the company of talking scarecrows or disappearing cats; it was, in its own way, a method of keeping oneself grounded, connected to the thin thread of continuity that ran through all lives, no matter how strange they might become. Narrate the impossible things, turn them into a story, and they could be controlled.”
―Seanan McGuire, Every Heart a Doorway
As I am a known lover of magic doors, it will not surprise you to learn that I am voraciously reading Seanan McGuire's Wayward Children series. It's a group of novellas that revolve around children who went through magic doors to other worlds and have now found themselves back on Earth. Changed by their travels to wonderlands and underworlds and the fantastical like, they struggle to assimilate back to Earth's reality and end up at Eleanor West's Home for Wayward Children. In book one, Every Heart A Doorway, classmates from various worlds band together to solve a string of murders at the school. Some subsequent books follow the adventures of particular children and their respective worlds, and others stick to the goingson at Eleanor's: book two is a prequel that follows twin sisters into a sinister, feudal world of vampires and mad scientists, while book three follows another ragtag group of students on a quest for the residents of a candyland. I'll keep reading these, despite the fact that book three was a little too saccharine to accord with my particular sweet tooth (a bit like reading Wreck-It Ralph (2012), but without the self-awareness); book two was a great character study, even if its conclusion felt inevitable. Read if you like the wonky whimsy and occasional seriousness of Adventure Time and the video game Portal, in which you solve puzzles and move around using a portal gun. (Read both physical copies and via Libby.)
While I wait patiently for book four and beyond of the Wayward Children series to come through my library holds for me, I am reading an advanced copy of Bliss Montage by Ling Ma. Around the corner, I plan to read People Love Dead Jews: Reports From a Haunted Present by Dana Horn and listen to Taste by Stanley Tucci, both of which are from the library. We'll see what happens.
The Libraries
If you can't tell, I am a firm believer in the ~Arthurian~ school of thought that having fun isn't hard when you've got a library card. I spent a lot of time at the pint-sized Sea Cliff Children's Library when I was also pint-sized, where I attended boistrous readalouds and caused minimal mayhem while still a certified goodie-goodie. I briefly volunteered as a tween library page at the Gold Coast Library (currently the smallest library on Long Island, though it will soon be relocating to a larger space), where Amanda and I would take out stacks of ~10 early YA books at a time. And later, after spending most of high school gossiping with my school librarian (she was cool! ask anyone!), I eventually got a job working alongside her during my senior year. I shelved books, fixed catalog cards, and primly shushed my classmates from my perch behind the circulation desk. When my expected prom date poured deer urine(????) in the back of the stacks as a poorly-concieved prank, I unceremoniously de-prommed him in solidarity with my librarian colleagues. I then spent a lot of my time alternately goofing off and cramming in NYU's Bobst Library (though I cannot say I lived there, as that honor goes to Bobst Boy and Bobst Boy alone). Libraries are great, and do not deserve to be descecrated by deer urine or college students hooking up in the stacks (not me, but I definitely witnessed some Things!), but I am glad they weather most storms with aplomb.
Despite the fact that libraries are community fixtures that provide a multitude of public services, they tend to be chronically under-funded and have recently become battlegrounds for culture war dumbassery. Idiotic crusaders hell-bent on banning books about racism, sexuality, and gender identity from library circulation are on a rampage: according to the American Library Association (ALA), 2021 saw more than double the amount of book challenges as in 2020, and there are already a staggering number of book challenges in 2022. Last month, the ALA issued a statement formally condemning threats of violence made by patrons against librarians displaying LGBTQ+ books, and provided guidance for librarians facing censorship tactics like patrons checking out books on Pride month displays to ensure they're inaccessible to others. Locally, Smithtown's elected library trustees tried (and thankfully failed) to ban LGBTQ+ children's books and Pride displays from the Smithtown Public Library. Nationally, librarians are facing pressure to remove targeted books from circulation and to recommend books that don't center diverse authors and narrators. From a sampling of school summer reading lists I've seen, it looks like school librarians and teachers are getting the same message.
I say all this as a plea to support your local library, primarily by using its services and donating your money and/or time. But you can also support it by being nice to librarians, who are literally paid to help you, and who also definitely know more than you about things like… libraries. And archives. And cataloging/finding information. So utilize that resource, and support them so others can too.
Just think of all the fun library things you can do! Some examples of fun things I have experienced, primarily thanks to the New York and Brooklyn Public Library systems, include:
Everyone in your book club placing a hold on a book in their respective library systems and comparing the waitlist times (which are almost always shorter than projected!)
Asking your librarian friends, who have access to vast databases of titles, to send you lists of books that are similar to your most recent favorite novel (thank you, Mel, for constantly providing readalikes for my flighty ass)
Suggesting titles for your library to acquire so their collection continues to reflect the community they serve
Getting the email telling you a physical library hold is ready to be picked up on your lunch break
Listening in on interesting classes and events, like NYPL author talks that I sometimes stream while doing chores around the house
Attending library sales, where you can buy most gently used books for a few dollars and also make readerly friends
Add Library Extension to your internet browser so that you can instantly see book availability at your local library while you ~surf the web~
And the list goes on, because libraries are great.
Well, that's all for now. I'll talk to you soon, but in the meantime, please make sure all your friends are aware that the author of Where The Crawdads Sing is wanted for questioning in a murder, because I am tired of this news being swept under the rug.