100/100: The End
This vignette is one in a series of 100 that explores the libraries of New York City.
Well, we’ve arrived. The final word, and I don’t know what to say.
Lots of famous writers, at some point in their careers, will write an essay about the craft of writing itself. In Zadie Smith’s version, she muses about the feelings that come with finishing a novel, revealing that the last time she did so, she proceeded to uncork a nice bottle of Sancerre, sit in her garden, and spend the next several hours crying.
I don’t know if that’s exactly what I’ll do, but then I’m no Zadie Smith. I can agree, though, that its a unique and curious feeling, to tie up and bid adieu to an entity that’s been a steady presence in one’s life for such awhile.
It doesn’t feel like the end, per se; I can and will continue to frequent New York’s libraries going forward. I’ll continue to write stories from them, if not about them. Maybe about them too — why not — there are surely still stories to be told, after all.
When I set out to write this series, I envisioned it as a sort of catty, sharp-tongued humor column; a knock-off of The Bitch Bible, but with real, nerdy people rather than celebrities. But it became clear to me early on that, while yes, there were a few juicy opportunities for this kind of writing, much of what happened here was not the stuff of bitchy gossip. I witnessed a lot of human activity here, and most of it consisted of people being nice to each other. I wondered a few times, upon publishing, whether the writing was too sappy, too boring, too kum-bah-yah. Perhaps something edgier would garner more readers; sass sells.
But it didn’t feel right to take that tone in a place where the dominant vibe is unmistakably one of goodwill.
Goodness doesn’t get as much coverage as its opposite; stories of war, injustice and disaster make up the bulk of our news. There’s no drama in incremental improvements, after all, or people getting along at a basic level. Nice is boring. It finishes last and nobody wants it. Better to focus on the buzzy stuff: conflict and confrontation.
As such, I had also envisioned a more dramatic ending to the series: revealing Moustachio’s real name, maybe, or some sort of juicy showdown with one of the more colorful characters who frequent Central Branch.
But now that we’re here, neither feels like the right way to wrap things up. The library has an essence of understated earnestness to it, and to end with a big loud bang wouldn’t be appropriate.
I don’t think I’m alone in sometimes feeling like I’m losing my faith in humanity. Those bleak news headlines on war and injustice and disaster are just the half of it; there’s also the culture of shallow and toxic narcissism and greed that thrives online and off. Influencers knowingly push content that does more harm than good, sacrificing their moral values for paid partnerships. I worry that we’re all live in these virtual vacuums where we’re all losing touch with eachother and our souls are slowly being destroyed. I also worry we’re losing touch with what’s good and what’s evil, and in the struggle between the two, the latter is winning.
To the last point, writing this series has changed my mind. It’s not that evil is winning, it’s just that evil is loud. Good is quiet; it’s less concerned about the likes, the numbers, the eyeballs it garners than it is about, you know, doing the good thing.
As I’m writing this, there’s a man at the librarian’s desk who sounds like he’s having a bad day. To the young librarian sitting in front of him, he regails a tale that includes a lost wallet and the wrong subway train. I don’t catch half the words but after a long exchange between the two of them, I hear the librarian say:
“We’re always happy to help.”
To which the man having the bad day says:
“I know that, I’ve seen it. You guys are the best.”
This exchange won’t go viral because that’s not the library’s style. It prefers to keep a low profile, and isn’t concerned with anything except doing the right thing and doing it quietly. And if that’s true in New York City, perhaps the loudest and rudest place on Earth, imagine what the library must be like in your town.
Thanks for being a part of this series. Till the next!
