It might surprise readers to learn that my personal library is very small. I have copies of some classics: Anna Sewell's Black Beauty, Frances Hodgson Burnett's The Secret Garden, and two copies of Tolkien's The Lord of the Rings. One copy is a gigantic single volume with the movie covers I bought out of desperation, as the final book had been checked out of the local library for ages; the other is a gorgeous boxed set of the illustrated trilogy with artwork by Alan Lee, one of my favorite fantasy artists. Speaking of Alan Lee and fantasy art, I also have several books of art by both him and Brian Froud, the creative mind behind the Jim Henson films Labyrinth and The Dark Crystal. He also did the inspiring artwork for a book by Patricia McKillip, Something Rich and Strange. McKillip is also the author of the Riddle-Master trilogy, which I have in one volume, wedged between Spindle's End and Sunshine by Robin McKinley and The Ropemaker by her husband Peter Dickinson. All seven Harry Potter books are lined up in order (hard cover, with the original dust jackets, of course), and an assortment Anne McCaffrey's Dragonriders of Pern books have their own section as well. There are dictionaries in English and Spanish and a well-thumbed thesaurus. As I am also a student, a large part of my limited shelf space is given over to text books on statistics, environmental health, cellular biology, and (tangentially) literature and writing. I have copies of the literary magazine See Spot Run, for which I was the editor-in-chief. There are also copies of Cicada magazine, which I subscribed to in high school, back when it was perfect bound (like a little paperback book). But really, that's it. If you scan through the books I've reviewed recently, you might notice something. I don't own a single one of them.
My private library may border on pathetic, but thankfully, that's where the joys of the public library come in. The last time I went to visit those hallowed halls, I had three books I'd planned to grab... 45 minutes later, I walked out with eight I just couldn't leave behind. I've used inter-library loan to hunt down historical sources and to borrow $50 pattern books to fuel my dressmaking hobby. It's often my go-to printing spot when I'm away from home, and a great resource for music and movies. As an undergrad, Friday nights found me and my roommate perusing the DVDs in preparation for Roomie Movie Nights. I'm even a fan of library discards; I make altered books and journals in my free time, and old engineering textbooks are one of the few books I don't feel guilty tearing apart and painting.
When I moved on to my graduate studies, I was a bit surprised to discover the zeal with which the university libraries were guarded. True, they are treasure troves: a ten story tower of stacks at the main library alone, separate law, health, and theological libraries, rare books and manuscripts. In undergrad, the library was one of the few places where the local community and the college met. Everyone was welcome. Now, as a master's student at a large university, I've found that students have to card their way past turnstiles to even glimpse the wealth of pages within. I understand that the libraries exist for the students and faculty, and survive because of the funds these students bring, but it still seems miserly to hide such a wealth of information and storytelling away for only a select group. I consider myself lucky to still be in that group; the sheer number of books at my disposal are astonishing. Even if it does feel a bit like sneaking past a dragon every time I swipe my card and climb into the ten stories of stacks, the riches I find are worth it. And, of course, so is the pleasure of finding a little gem to share here with you.
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