While the world mourned the pandemic shutdown of restaurants, travel, school, and parties, the hole in my heart was the public library.

Oh, how I miss the quiet ritual of browsing in the stacks. My local library has now been closed to browsers for over one year. Sure, you can put books on hold and pick them up. You just need to set up a pickup appointment, text notification of your arrival at the appointed time, don your mask, and then step up to the large window where the masked staffer who has fetched the books will pass them to you.

And certainly, the Libby app for checking out the library’s ebooks has been a lifesaver. The design is user-friendly, and I love seeing how long they predict I will wait for a hold. But neither book pickup nor ebook checkout offers the same pleasure as browsing the stacks.

For me, that ritual used to be a weekly treasure hunt. I relished when I’d spot the spine of a coveted book on the shelf, taking it in my hands to inspect it, reading the cover blurbs. I’d strategize on whether I’d have time to finish the book in the three-week checkout period, based on what else I’d be taking home. And when a book made the cut, I’d reach for my wallet to take out my library card and check myself out.

If you’re a voracious reader and library user, you know just what I mean.

Thanks to the library, I read significantly more than I would without it. Sure, bookstores (especially the independent ones) are awesome and simulate some of the same pleasures of the library. But, with a limited budget, I am much more judicious in a bookstore. Am I almost certain I’ll like the book? If not, why throw money away on a risky read? Do I have unread books at home? If so, I’d better wait. At the library, I’ll take a chance. I’ll indulge a fancy. I’ll explore a new topic. Because once I get it home, if I start a book, if I don’t like it, I’ll put it aside. There’s significantly less guilt for not finishing library books. Right now I’m looking at three books I’ve purchased but haven’t yet read, and that sense of fiscal wastefulness rises like a muddy tide. 

Of course, libraries offer so much more than the ability to check out books. What stay-at-home parent hasn’t anticipated the brief respite that comes with the weekly children’s story hour? Meeting rooms and study rooms provide quiet, private space for entrepreneurs, committees, and students. Reference librarians are the unsung heroes of the information age. And absolutely most importantly, now that the Internet is necessary for functions as basic as applying for a job or doing homework, the library is where those who don’t have it at home catch a break.

All this is free. (Well, we won’t talk about taxes here. But the library feels free.)

Sometimes I worry politicians are going to figure just how valuable libraries are. And we’re going to be charged for usage. (Hey, they added tolls to bridges and highways, didn’t they?) Besides general infrastructure and schools, there is no civic service or program that has provided me more value than the library.

Like just about everyone, I can’t wait for the Covid-19 pandemic to end. But when our county opens to more in-person venues, I won’t be heading to a restaurant. I’ll be heading to the library.