A guest post by author Maya MacGregor, author of The Many Half-Lived Lives of Sam Sylvester.
Libraries are the source of magic.
When I was growing up, often in rural areas, getting to visit bookstores was always a special treat, but libraries were where I would thrive. I found them bewitching for their serenity and the sense of hushed reverence that exists within–or at least that’s how I’ve always perceived it. That there were thousands of quiet places one could find books of all flavours never ceased to amaze me.
As an adult, that wonder has only solidified and grown as I learnt the power and the myriad functions that flow beneath the shelves of titles. One of the first things I’ve always done in a new city is get a library card. They’ve been symbols of access to the world for me–a place to study or seek information, a place to solve urgent problems when I couldn’t get access to a computer, a place where people could gather and take part in community activities. All those things combine to provide a vital hub of humanity.
There is magic in that, maybe the oldest magic we have as humans: the reverence to maintain and make available the wealth of community storytelling, learning, and problem solving. If you’re quiet in those spaces, you can almost feel the threads of those webs of connection.