An Open Love Letter to Libraries

Since becoming a full-time traveller I’ve leaned on these establishments more than ever

Photo by Author — The State Library Victoria in Melbourne, looking down on the La Trobe Reading Room

I remember my first library so clearly.

The air was thick with the smell of paper and plastic-bound covers—the soundtrack of ink stamps, electronic scanners and squeaky carts laden with books to be shelved.

I’d walk there with my Mum and younger brother, to pick out our reading selection for the week ahead. Arms laden with Roald Dahl, Lemony Snicket and J.K. Rowling books, that we would devour after school, at weekends and before bedtime.

Since I was old enough to write, my Mum would make me review each book I’d read, turning me into quite the little critic. I’d mark each book out of a score of ten, re-tell my favourite scenes with illustrations and aesthetically emblazon each review with stickers from my prized sticker book collection: WOW! GROOVY! COOL!

Library day was my favourite day of the week — which is saying something because on Sundays we would head to the seaside for fish and chips and a pick-n-mix. Looking back, I feel incredibly lucky to have had a whole literary world at my disposal, to take from as often as I wished, all for no charge at all.