I have always felt a reverence for libraries. As a child, a favourite outing was the weekly visit to the local public library. A squat, 60s, concrete building, it was nothing to speak of architecturally, but seeing it still makes me draw breath. We would enter from the brilliant sunshine of the street outside into a dark and quiet place. Immediately, I felt the need to hush any conversation we might have carried into this refuge. Inside, the walls were clad in dark wooden panels. The lighting was dim. It was quiet. I would almost rush past reception and into the broad but also densely shelved childrens’ area to begin my aimless and yet zealous exploration, drawing out one book after the next, regularly reassessing the growing stack of books in my arms. Which was I prepared to give up in favour of another?
I was particularly fond of the Norse mythology section and would leaf through the tempting texts, captivated by illustrations of gods and warriors, beasts and battles. But even more fascinating was peering around the wall that separated the two halves of the library, peering into the adult section. What mysteries, what adventures were hidden in those wordy tomes that were thus far out reach of my literary abilities? I felt the thrill of curiosity. Solitary adults sat alone here and there, on a couch, in a corner, among the shelves, each with a book in hand. Where were they? What worlds did they see in those silent words? Then I would nervously return to reception and the revered librarian with my stack of books – always the maximum number allowed – who would dutifully open each at the back cover, stamp the small card with the return date, and I would receive the stack with a flush of anticipation.
These days, libraries are no less exciting for me. The national library in Nuuk has a childrens’ section on the ground floor and ascending the stairs to the adult section, I still feel a certain thrill to see all those shelves filled with books. When I visited last week, I was pleased to see so many people sitting at the desks, in corners here and there. But after a while, I noticed that not one of them held a book. Instead, each of them looked into the glowing screen of a mobile phone. They were each immersed in other worlds but none were the worlds penned by the authors of all those books around them. They were using the free wifi. I can only wish that some of them were also using the vast free online library that is part of Greenland’s library service, through the Danish libraries system.
