Bibliophile

I freaking love libraries — it’s a love instilled early in childhood and only grown since then. Growing up one of my favorite things to do was to spend a Saturday in the library, trailing my fingers over the spines of hundreds of books, itching to discover what worlds lay beneath the covers. I’d stack one book on top of another to take home, filling a bursting tote with as many books as possible, sometimes to a point where a librarian would gently remind my mother and I that we were only allowed to borrow 50 books on one card at a time (my brother, mother, and I shared a library card, and my brother and I were — and still are — voracious readers!). I remember participating in the library’s reading challenges, excitedly receiving stars to commemorate each book read (I can’t remember if there were prizes but can vividly remember sticking a sticker next to my name — stickers have always been one of my favorite rewards), scouring the shelves for the latest new releases, and covertly wandering over from the Young Adult to Adult section.

We were always encouraged to borrow books from the library rather than purchase them from the bookstore. Trips to Barnes & Noble and Borders (RIP) were more of an opportunity to tuck myself in the corner to read the latest new releases, carefully turning each page to ensure the spine was never fully cracked so that it could be placed back on the shelf to be sold to another book lover, than to take a book back home. I don’t know for certain, but I imagine this was encouraged by my parents because of a combination of logic and frugality: logic because why buy when you can borrow, and frugality because see first point plus higher education in America is quite expensive and I’m quite privileged to graduate debt-free, thanks to my parents paying for my education. I do remember bringing home and presenting to my parents the book catalog for the Scholastic Book Fair, with my top choices lovingly circled (only a few mind year to show that I was being thoughtful and conscientious in my selection in order to demonstrate my understanding of the significance of money) every year in the hopes that I’d be able to purchase a book, and then eyeing my classmates with envy as they walked up to the cash register with their stacks of books and dollars in hand while I lovingly traced my fingers over the spines of books placed on makeshift shelves in the school gym promising myself that maybe next time. I remember one year, very early on, I was able to purchase one book and it was probably one of the biggest highlights of my life.

You’d think that as an adult with disposable income (maybe a little less so now not working at a corporate office job) I’d have freed myself of any restrictions in purchasing books, but you’d be wrong. It physically pains me to purchase a book, knowing that I could borrow it from the library. Granted, even though I’m a proud card-carrying member of five different libraries (there’s a reason and strategy behind that!) it doesn’t guarantee that I’d be able to read that book immediately or that the book is even available in the library’s system. I envy my friends who will casually share that they just purchased several books while wandering by the bookstore or decided to spontaneously buy a book because they thought the cover looked interesting — I wish I could find such freedom in buying something that I get so much pleasure from, rather than agonizing over that decision. At this point it’s not a money issue, it’s a “letting go of feelings and probably talk about it in therapy” issue. Still, to me buying books feels like going out to eat when I already have groceries at home. I’ll easily spend money on travel, something that I value just as equally but is much more expensive, but it’ll take so much more effort to part with money for a book. And while I love libraries and all that they offer, I yearn to have my own books. There’s something so magical about trailing your fingers across various covers, taking your time to discover new authors and worlds, savoring the book when you finally make a decision, proudly purchasing the book at the cashier’s desk, taking it home to read at your own leisure, then finally displaying it on your shelf or coffee table, a small glimpse into your world and how you think, what you believe, and why you are who you are.

But wait, I forgot why I began to write in the first place.

The magnificent Reading Room of the State Library of New South Wales.

Last Friday I attended Unplugged, an event hosted by the State Library of New South Wales, as part of the Vivid Sydney Festival. The library opened after hours from 6-9pm on a Friday to welcome patrons to disconnect and unplug from their digital devices. They scattered books, games, and crosswords in their majestic Reading Room, opened access to rare collections of art and artifacts from centuries past, and brought in a DJ, bean bags, and giant puzzles into their art gallery. Oh, and did I mention all of this was free? I love when local governments invest in their people. Libraries are such wonderful spaces — they’re not just storage spaces for books, amazing vehicles that convey and share stories to inspire, connect, and educate, but also welcoming places to build community. This is also a plug to support your local library whether financially through donations or in other ways, like voting in your local election for local government officials and school board members so idiots in the government don’t ban books or restrict access to ideas and authors.

My favorite parts of Unplugged were the bibliotherapy sessions and the wandering bookshelves!

A bibliotherapy session is exactly what it sounds like: tell your life story, or your current story, to a bibliotherapist, who will then recommend a book, or two or three, that might help you with where you’re at, whether it’s to be inspired or feel seen. Last Friday’s bibliotherapist was Jenn, who works at the Double Bay library and was previously a bibliotherapist! It’s not the first time I’ve heard of this concept as I stumbled across it in fiction, but it’s the first time I’ve seen the concept explored in real-life!

The surprise of the night was encountering volunteers walking outside the library with little bookshelf backpacks strapped on their back. It turns out that patrons were welcome to browse through the mini libraries and take a book home for free! You know me — books? Free books? Sold! How lovely, and a huge thank you to the donors of the library for making something like this possible.

Right after Unplugged I wandered around the remaining parts of Vivid Sydney that I hadn’t had the opportunity to visit last time. It was so heartwarming to see the city in color and felt like being back in New York City in December.

Also as part of Vivid Sydney, I had the opportunity to watch Jimmy Chin, of famed Free Solo and Meru documentaries, speak! It was wonderful to see that he’s the same in-person as he is in his films (grounded, down-to-earth, extremely humble), and to hear him talk about facing similar challenges growing up (Chinese parents wanting him to be a lawyer or doctor) and making the conscious decision — and risk! — to carve his own path and continue to pursue it despite it being untraditional and unconventional.