When Did You Last Visit the Library?

I grew up with Grindon Library less than a 5 minute walk from my house. It was an old and cold building that had a smell of never having quite dried out. I remember the yellow tickets that would allow me get three books out and I steadily worked my way through every Asterix and Obelix book in the children’s section. I soon graduated to Goosebumps, and when those were consumed, I moved to Point Horror, jumping at shadows and strange noises every night. By this time, as a young teenager, my tickets were green and I could get 6 books out for a week at a time. My late fines were numerous.

Grindon Library 1980- Copyright Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens

Upstairs in the library was a small museum with rooms made to look like Victorian houses. One of these would strike fear into the heart adult and child alike… the dentist.

Dentist Room of Grindon Library. Copyright Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens

You can just about make out the creepy little tableaux of calm, collected dentist, slowly torturing (or treating) screaming-patient-mannequin. It’s no wonder we all thought the place was haunted. It was a test of bravery to go up those stairs and into the long, quiet corridor leading along the display rooms.

Grindon Library 1958 – Copyright Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens

Every now and then, the library would sell off some of its old stock, piling books onto a wooden trolley that I’d spend hours pouring over, bringing home ripped and crumpled books about all sorts for just a few pence, their purple-ish ‘Grindon Library’ ink stamp faded to obscurity through age and use.

Grindon Library 1980 – Copyright Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens

The library boasted beautifully landscaped, high-walled gardens, which were always off limits. As a young teen, it became a dare to squeeze through the railings at the bottom of the gardens (which backed onto one end of the estate) and run across the gardens, out of the entrance gates at the other end of the estate. The shortcut it provided was hardly worth the effort, but the heart-racing, blood pumping, adrenaline rush kept us entertained for 20 minutes after school. In reality, I’m sure the librarians couldn’t have cared less about some kids running across the gardens, and we were probably warned to keep out in case, with its complete privacy, ne’er-do-wells lurked in the bushes.

I can’t remember when exactly the library closed; it was a swift, but staggered decline. First the museum was moved out in around 1996, and I think the library probably went around ’98 or ’99 but I could be wrong. The building itself was demolished to make way for a respite centre, and it was a real wrench to see it torn down like that.

I’d always loved reading, so I can’t say the library started my love of books, but what it did do was to make them accessible and affordable in a time when you couldn’t pop online and buy cheap books. It also let me try books that I might not otherwise have read.

When my local library closed, I joined the City Library – it was a much harder process, you needed a lot of ID which is hard when you’re still officially a child and it was a longer slog to get and return books. Needless to say my paying of fines increased. I was probably keeping the entire Sunderland library system afloat at one point. I even did my work experience at the library, 5 glorious days of learning filing systems, microfiche and even a stint in the art shop! As I joined college and later, university, they had their own libraries and the using the internet to shop was becoming much more common, and so I dropped out of using public libraries.

Recently, the City Library has moved out of its bespoke building and into a far smaller space in the Sunderland Museum and Winter Gardens’ building. If the closure of the local libraries was a warning light, then the downsizing of a major city library is a booming klaxon, screaming ‘use us or lose us.’

But if we don’t use libraries, can we really lament their loss? If libraries haven’t evolved with the times then are they themselves to blame for the decline? I don’t think there’s a straightforward answer. In the same way that eBooks aren’t a direct replacement for a physical book, and that mobile phone cameras aren’t a replacement for DSLRs, the internet (and online shopping) isn’t a replacement for libraries. Privilege might tell us it is… why would we join a library when we can buy dozens of books for just a few pounds online? But what about those families who don’t have that kind of access or income? What about the children who wouldn’t otherwise be introduced to J K Rowling, or Shakespeare, or Margaret Atwood, or, or, or….

Libraries are a gateway, an entry point, a critical resource for our communities, and as such we should champion them, and yes, fund them, even when we ourselves no longer have a use for them. If you can’t use your local library, think about donating to it, or even purchasing some books to donate to them. Join your local book group (or start one!) or take part in community group events that make use of the library. Libraries are a rite of passage for many book-loving children, and if we don’t find new ways to use and sustain our libraries, we will lose them, and wouldn’t that be a tragedy for us all.

Did you have memories of your local library? Does it still exist? Do you still visit, if so? Let me know in the comments.