John Miedema

Flickr photos tagged with library_interiors

Interiority refers to being within or inside. It is often used when talking about the insides of buildings, but not uncommonly about psychological or spiritual space too. The two senses are related. Much thought goes into the physical design of libraries. Some prefer traditional wood and leather, others seek more light and air, still others prefer the smell of a good coffee. The insides of some libraries feel like home, curled up with a book as it rains outdoors. I know where the chairs belong just as in my own living room. My local branch has a character that I claim as mine. The particularity of the local library is a powerful draw, not to be underestimated by library managers in an age of global planning.

As a public space, the library provides relief from the overwhelming presence of private commercial space. When my kids were small and money was scarce, I took them to the nearby library when we could fill hours without spending a dime. These days I drop the kids off at their various activities for a few hours; I don’t like to shop so I go read at the library before picking them up again. In my town, some regret the library’s move to the downtown mall. As I see it, commercial space has been reclaimed in favour of community space. I’ve nothing against private enterprise; I just don’t like living by my wallet all the time. Note too that this place draws not only the homeless but also the fledgling proprietors researching ideas and business plans. Everybody needs public space.

The interiority of libraries is more than its body. “Joseph Campbell wrote about “thin places” — places on earth at which the curtain between the normal and the paranormal can be lifted. These are the places that, because of their history and associations, have a sacred quality that causes the visitor to meditate on the perception that there is more to human existence than daily joys and sorrows. … There is something of the sacred in the least library: something that speaks to us of the human soul as well as the human mind, of the continuity of memory and achievement, of the joy of youth and the wisdom of age.” (Gorman, Our singular strengths: Meditations for librarians, 161). The shelves and books have vitality too. “The people who shelve the books in Widener talk about the library’s breathing — at the start of the term, the stacks exhale the books in great swirling clouds; at the end of the term, the library inhales, and the books fly back.” (Battles, Library: An unquiet history, 6).

Walking past the doors into the library is just the beginning of interiority. In the next post I take a look at how interiority plays out in the way librarians organize information.

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