It was falling into disrepair (but not disuse, clearly, considering the continued pile-up of books, magazines, flyers, random household items), and now it’s not. In fact, there’s a fresh, new structure to frequent. THANK YOU, mystery carpenter!
For the first time in my (admittedly selective; and I don’t manage the selecting) memory, I’m juggling four major writing projects and this blog, which is a long-term effort in its own right. It’s a curious feeling like, at any moment, one project will tumble, ripe from the tree, and some force will pluck it up, cart it off. Well . . . one can hope. And work. And see what happens.
Jacqueline Woodson. If you don’t know her, you should. Not just because she’s one of the premier writers for young people (whose career I’ve followed since I was a high school student), who happens to be African American, who happens to be a New Yorker. Not because her memoir-in-verse, Brown Girl Dreaming, won the National Book Award for Young People’s Literature in 2014. But because here’s a woman who can answer her some reader-questions.
The first time I saw Ms. Woodson on a tour for her then newly published picture book Show Way, children lined up to ask questions. I was amused. Impressed. A toddler approached the mic in her mother’s arms.
My second experience was at the Cambridge Public Library as part of Cambridge Reads. Children waited patiently in two lines and spoke with bravery, curiosity, clarity, humor, and the desire to know. Be known.
Okay, I thought, this is a thing. In all the author talks, book signings and panels I’ve attended in my 30+ years, I’ve never seen such thoughtful and relentless interest from children as at Woodson events. Is it because Jacqueline speaks to them as she would any person, child or adult? Is it because the first child asked a question that didn’t even touch the perennial ‘where do you get your ideas’, and broke some kind of good-question seal?
In my experience, in mixed groups of adults and children it’s usually the adults who dominate. Not here. Adults stand back: the true creatives have arrived.
Reading #1: Monday, March 12, 2007, 6:30 PM
Jacqueline Woodson’s Author Visit at BPL Connolly Branch (JP) 2007
“This celebrated author of children’s and teen books will discuss some of her work, including her new novel Feathers. The event will include a question and answer session and a book sale and signing (courtesy of Jamaicaway Books). Co-sponsored by the Foundation for Children’s Books. For ages 5 and up.”
Questions (items in parenthesis are my notes):
Reading #2: Wednesday, November 18, 2015, 7:00 PM
Cambridge Reads, November 18, 2015, Fitzgerald Theater, 7:00 PM
“Brown Girl Dreaming—a memoir of the Woodson’s childhood written in verse—is the recipient of the 2014 National Book Award, the Coretta Scott King Award, a Newbery Honor Award, the NAACP Image Award, and the Sibert Honor Award.
Jacqueline Woodson is the author of over two dozen award-winning books for young adults and children, including The Other Side, Each Kindness, Coming on Home Soon, Locomotion, Miracle’s Boys, After Tupac and D Foster, Feathers, and Hush. She is a four-time winner of the Newbery Honor Award, a three-time finalist for the National Book Award, and was recently named the Young People’s Poet Laureate by the Poetry Foundation.
Cambridge READS, the Cambridge Public Library’s citywide book club, promotes the love of reading and facilitates community conversations about books. It includes book discussions at the Main Library and its six branches, and culminates in an appearance by the featured author.”
Questions (items in parenthesis are my notes):
Jacqueline concluded here, but there were more kids who attempted to join the line. They could have gone all night.
So. I look at these two lists of questions and my first thought is: whoa, Cambridge. My second thought: these children (thankfully) have not yet perfected the unfortunate art of long-declarative-statement-masquerading-as-question. Third: I didn’t mean to spend the evening typing out questions (with my thumbs, on an iPod) but I couldn’t help myself. They were too good.
And you, faithful WHL reader, get to share the bounty.
This rainy week in Boston reminds me of another rainy week.
It was fall. My partner and I had the day off and what better way to spend it than exploring the library? Particularly a new branch. Not just new to us, but new to the network.
Walk through the community garden, up the stairs, past the porch, and enter East Boston Public Library‘s spacious, one-room(ish) affair with clever, moveable elements and variety to appeal to all types of users.
Gray thought it may be outside, inside this fresh, welcoming branch is sun and surprises.
Sometimes, my 80s shows when I visit a new (to me) library.
What swivels my head and has me coming for a closer look? Wooden card catalogs, tall-as or taller than me with ornate metal drawer pulls smoothed from many years use.
And then there are those special touches I never saw in the decades of my youth. This is what makes each library I visit so unique. Thoughtfulness: each library’s approach to meeting the needs of its audience, its patrons, its co-collaborators in word-love and learning and listening and reading and play. Discovery.
The Multnomah County Library of Portland, OR, Central Branch, charmed us with its special touches, friendly staff and many, many wooden chairs lining the walls that all but whispered, here, have a seat. Also, if you’re visiting, check out the John Wilson Special Collections room! You will discovery many an enormous and many a tiny book.
Is this your local library? Leave a comment about your experiences/wishes/favorites.
My favorite way to travel is to someone. Beauty is in the eye of the person who loves, and what better method for cutting to the heart of a place than through the perspicacious perspective of a child of that place?
This past August, I re-met Cape Cod, that supremely popular portion of Massachusetts famous for attracting throngs of respite-hungry tourists.
Raised on the Jersey Shore, I generally feel I’ve seen the beach. Nothing new. Except, of course, there is always something new: sunset colors warming the slow waves over our toes, a diverse collection of sober revelers, singing around a fire in the sand, something about faith, humility, and togetherness.
And Provincetown . . . well P-town is unique. My Jersey childhood had me picturing this oft-mentioned resort town as one with wooden board walks dried ashy by salt, lined with arcade/casinos competing for attention with booming game soundtracks and the ping! of coins dropping.
My Boston Pride experience inspired me to expect dudes in short-shorts with that strut. Yet, with its quaint sweetness, superb galleries, and narrow, semi-urban feel, P-town strayed from my expectations.
The biggest shock was the Provincetown Public Library.
Small town libraries always have something interesting going on. Few, however, pack the sort of surprise that, in theory, could one day sail away. Crash right through those walls and down to sea.
I was so impressed by the library’s holdings, a half-scale model of the Rose Dorothea Schooner completed in 1988, I barely searched for what have come to represent, to me, markers of a solid community resource.
I guess, sometimes, it’s okay to be swept away.
From time to time, I become aware of a place and think wow! I’d really like to go there. My assumption is that I never will, but more often than not it happens that I find myself walking through the door . . .
A trip to DC for work prompted me to ask friends where I should visit, even as a little voice in my head whispered: the ultimate librarytour: Library of Congress. I engaged in the bare minimum of research, glancing over the options for the Library of Congress. Three whole buildings (Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and James Madison Memorial) dedicated to research, and at least one holding American folklife history as well as tweets.
Similar to visits to the New York Public Library, I opted to go for the iconic, even though I knew these beautiful spaces don’t actually house books (at least not books intended to be held, sniffed for their gorgeous and memorable library-smell, checked out.)
Of course, even in the halls of softly glowing marble, security guards, brightly restored murals, treasured collections (ensconced in glass), interpreters/tour guides, long, empty passageways, and tourists, I often find a haven for young people.
A friend introduced me to Little Free Libraries, small book-lending boxes that exist worldwide for reading-enthusiasts, champions of community, and the just-plain-curious. No less than a year later, such a library appeared five minutes from my house. So, in addition to the amazing Boston Public and Minuteman Library systems, I’ve a hyper-local option that draws my eye each time I wander past.
Who’s spoiled? (Hint: me.)
I heard about Cambridge Street Little Free Library on a community listserv before I saw it in person. Winter tends to tame my wandering and ground my bike, so it’s wasn’t until the weather warmed and I returned to my wheels full-time that I located Little Free Library #3884.
Even smaller than the microwave-oven sized box in JP, the Cambridge Street library is vividly painted and planted in a giant flowerpot.
While I snapped a few photos, another pedestrian noticed and decided to loiter by the box after I departed. I mean, how can you resist?
If I were to sum up my first impression of the Arlington Robbins Library in a word: livable.
The Robbins Library, housed in a stately building on Mass. Ave. in Arlington Center, moments from a 77 MBTA bus stop and the MinuteMan Bikeway, is the sort of place where you favorite a table, chair, or study cubby.
Maybe you show up early in the morning to claim that table/chair/study cubby, and frequenting it becomes your rally cap, magicking you towards the success with your homework/dissertation/novel/job search.
Form, function, inspiration, and surprises.
I look forward to discovering more on my next visit.
A friend, knowing me to be of the library-lovin’ sort, introduced me to the concept of a Little Free Library. Naturally, I was smitten. Library, little, and free being three words that move me with some speed to cheers, coos, or great gasps of celebratory excitement.
And then one turned up in my neighborhood.
I was a little concerned at first, because the library sits perched on a city-owned structure. However it’s stayed, and even grown a solution to keeping out the rain. I look forward to noticing the ebb and flow of it’s collection, as well as adding a few contributions of my own.