Library Love...

I had some lovely news recently. But first, a ramble.

The day I joined the library.
I look DETERMINED.

When I was growing up, my local library was brilliant. I'd suggest it still is, but the urgency to use it has calmed since adulthood struck. I took full advantage when I was younger, however. Because as every book-loving, poverty-stricken, busy-home-dwelling child knows, the library is an oasis in a world of chaos.

I joined my local library when I turned five. I don't think this was the rule of the library, but more an arbitrary date my parents set, to get themselves organised to take me. (Likewise, swimming lessons started at seven, and permission to have my own TV kicked in at eighteen.*) So at five years and two days old, I joined the library. There are photos in the family album to show this event.

I own these! But I read dozens more for free.

And it was an event. The library was amazing - beyond comprehension. Shelves and shelves of books that I could take home with me? Yes please, sign me up. Until this point, books were bought for birthday presents, or came with other people's names in the front after the church's Summer gala. I wasn't completely devoid of reading material, but I was devoid of choice and replenishment. Now I had a library card, I could read everything and everything. As often as I could find an adult to take me.

The aforementioned murder mystery
genre. There was a whole
load of these stories. More
comical than the Famous Five,
but kids sorting out wrong'uns,
nonetheless. Enjoy this historical
artefact, with added tea stain.

I soon found I had preferred authors. Enid Blyton, Roald Dahl and Judy Blume. I found I didn't care much for fantasy worlds such as Narnia or the Faraway Tree, but I buzzed off worlds I could believe in. Worlds like boarding school, or murder mysteries where a gang of kids sorted it out whilst the local constabulary floundered. (The Five Find Outers and Dog! Oh yes.) I can still picture the children's area from the mid-eighties. Turn left at the front door. Turn another left, and the picture books for babies were avoided, and the chapter books were displayed. It was one of my favourite places to be.

As I got older, and the teenage years kicked in, I no longer needed an adult to take me. In a bid to ease the congestion in the Bond household, I spent many evenings of my teenage summer holidays making the twenty minute walk to the library. I'd peruse the adult books at that point. I read anything I could find, but discovered I liked thrillers. Dick Francis books were fun reads despite my disinterest in horse racing, and the back catalogue of Agatha Christie was soon devoured. On top of that, I could experiment. Would I enjoy The Life and Loves of a She-Devil? I had no idea but I got it out for free, found it creepily compelling, and went back a few days later, willing to keep my options open with other books I wasn't initially sure about. I think by the time I left home at eighteen, I'd read the entire fiction section. Probably not, but it felt like I had. It was a safe, free, interesting place to spend my evenings, in the days before bingeing Netflix and going to the pub took precedence. I am very grateful to my local library. It made me a well-read, well-rounded, literate child. It made me a young adult that could access books I couldn't afford. When cuts and threats to libraries crop up in the press, I wince at the lost potential to the community, but especially to children and teenagers. That's the time when reading leaves an indelible mark. That's the time that books shape the adult you'll become.

Bit chuffed about this, can't lie.

So, I said I'd had some lovely news. Well I really have. After an initial enquiry from me, and a couple of emails trying to get in touch with the right people, I can now share that both my books will be stocked in my local library. That also happens to be the library of my youth. MY BOOKS ARE IN MY HAPPY PLACE. There are several wow moments when you write a book. The first time you see your name on the cover, the first time you hold it in your hands... that kind of thing. Well, getting the email to say my books will be in the library of my childhood is WAY up there. I can promise you that. It's the best feeling. 

So, I wanted to share the good news, as well as explaining why it means so much. And obviously I've gone to the library to see the books in their new environment. Leeza looks so happy to be there, don't you think?

Have a lovely week, folks.


*That last point merited an automatic call to Esther Rantzen, surely?