[niamhoneill]

Over recent months I have been going to the library on a regular basis and this brief article outlines some profound learnings that I have encountered away from any written text.

Lessons from the Library:

I’m going to open this short piece with what I’m sure will appear to many as an obvious notion, but was for me a recent thought, or perhaps more correctly the conclusion to a cycle of internal reflections which resulted in a simple and insightful personal deduction: “It’s amazing what can be learnt at the library!” I recognise that for many this will appear such an uninspiring and rudimentary observation that terminating the further reading of this article, to move onto to something more gripping, is the only conceivable course of action – to those of you who feel this way I kindly ask that you bear with me.

I suspect that most people see the library as a place of inspiration and a source of enlightenment, which in most, if not all instances, is derived from the elegant words of the literary gifted. This of course can take many forms, including the magical worlds created by fictional novelists, factual detail presented by scientific enigmas, through to the guidance provided by theologians and the like. The library, therefore, offers a place of escapism, a sanctum where people can indulge in their personal interests, whatever form or substance.

I’m a scientific academic at heart; hence I care little for the imaginary worlds of make-believe, although I appreciate the appeal and subconsciously hope I will one day allow myself to sample this rich literary terrain. I opt instead, at present, to read texts that will hopefully help me search for what are far too often the elusive “truths.” The library for me, therefore, is a gas station where I can stop off to fuel the urges of my cerebral addictions.

Believe it or not, in fact I find it somewhat hard to comprehend myself; I have spent each hour of every working day, for the past three months, in my local library reading texts contributing towards my academic studies. Over this period I have covered more writing than I would wish to admit, but have proudly learnt a great deal. Although the knowledge gained during this period is personally and professionally gratifying, it’s not the learnings I have acquired from the books, chapters, and research articles read that I wish to share. It is instead the lessons I have learnt from my experiences at the library, the questions these raised, and the insight I drew from engaging with those thoughts. As earlier stated, the library is often a place of escapism. Indeed, I decided to complete my studies in the local library not only because of the resources it housed, but also for the “distraction free” environment that it would provide – or so I thought.

I’m a creature of habit and hence quickly found “my spot,” a position within the library in which I felt comfortable, and returned to on a daily basis. I would typically arrive at just gone 9 am with a laptop and a batch of carefully selected articles that I spent my day working through. For the first couple of weeks, my concentration was resolute and I was largely oblivious to those around me and what they got up to. As the days wore on I became increasingly aware and accustomed to my new surroundings; it was after all developing into my “second home.” Naturally as a territorial predator, that each of us are as humans, I became protective of “my spot” and inquisitive to those that surrounded my patch and were part of the pride that I had unknowingly joined.

It soon became apparent, to my surprise, that I was not the only “regular” in the local library. In fact, it didn’t take long to discover that a population of regulars inhabited it, and I was but a new member of this intriguing microcosm of society. Over the coming months I could not help but think considerably about the regulars, and I would like to share with you my thoughts and experiences, plus how these individuals have unknowingly had a profound impact upon me.

Before briefly introducing you to three of the regulars, and how they have indirectly influenced me, I would first like to stipulate that I perceived myself to be very much an average type of person. Like the majority of our population, I was part of the capitalist “rat race.” I walked, fast paced, straight past people on the street without giving them a second thought. I was insular and blinkered, busy, and typical of people I know. I felt profoundly separated from the majority of society and lived in my own secure bubble. I resided, and still do, in the heart of a city, but not in a community. I knew not my immediate neighbours and I didn’t think I cared. In fact, I only interacted in any depth with my immediate family, friends and colleagues. These thoughts would not have seemed foreign at the time; they would have instead been seen as the accepted social norm to which I had become accustomed.

During my time at the library I became increasingly aware of the other regulars, three of whom left a lasting imprint upon me, which I would like to share with you…

The first was an older Indian man in traditional dress; he was a true regular, there all day, every day. He obviously had itchy feet as he tended to wander from position to position around the library and this was his regular jaunt. He had a friendly appearance and it was apparent that he was trying to make an effort to introduce himself to all of the regulars, in particular, young Asian ladies. Whenever we made eye contact he would always greet me with an enthusiastic wave and a large smile before making a b-line towards me. Upon arrival he would provide me with a rigorous pat on the back, which would be accompanied by ‘very hard working, very hard working’ in broken English. Although fond of this greeting, it soon grew frustrating as the communication barrier meant that we could never move beyond this shallow level of interaction.

The second man was middle aged and was in the library as soon as it opened at 9am. He was one of the few regulars that appeared to make it in before me. Averagely dressed and a broadsheet reader, nothing at first would seem to raise any suspicion or questions about this man. After further inspection, however, one wondered as to why his hands appeared slightly dirty and a little blue as if frostbite had set in. Further doubts were then raised as his head dropped, inevitably followed by snoring, around 10am every day. Frustrated by the snoring, I could not help but often wonder as to why he was there and what story lay behind the man that sat before me.

Regular number three was an elderly man. Not so much a regular, but none the less was always a friendly face to see. Dapperly dressed, he frequently wandered in at around three o’clock and would remain in the library after I had left. Given his age, I could only wonder as to what he had come in to learn and that, given the years he had accumulated, he must have an interesting story he could likely tell.

These are of course only “normal” people like you or I. Nonetheless, seeing these individuals on a regular basis frequently made me ponder as to why they were there, what they were reading, if anything, and more importantly what were their life stories. I had come to appreciate that there is an interesting story sitting behind every person, and that rightly or wrongly, we all seem to consider ourselves at the centre of the universe, paying little attention to the next person, when in fact in most instances we over-inflate the important of ourselves at the expense of others. Indeed I came to recognise that we are all inextricably connected, but in a manner that would appear very much in isolation. Each one of us engages in our own insular life but we are often blissfully unaware of other’s.

As I thought about this in greater depth I could not help but consider its profound implications. I appreciate that this is highly philosophical, and is likely to be considered a step “too deep” by many. But perhaps the problem with our modern society is that we are increasingly lacking depth. We are instead driven by aesthetics and engulfed by the mass consumerism and capitalism. In short we appear to be caught up in the “rate race” of efficiency, at the expense of the pleasures associated with human relations. I’m not suggesting that we do not have close friends. Many of us do and enjoy our interactions. What I think I am trying to say is that we seriously limit whom we build associations with and I wonder if the world would be a better place if these barriers were removed.

Having said all that, I am but of course still one tiny pawn in the “rat race” of life, but with my heightened awareness I will never look at it in the same way again. I unfortunately still do not know my neighbours, but am hoping I will pluck up the courage to introduce myself sometime soon. I still reside in a city, but am experiencing a growing yarning inside of me to live in a vibrant and friendly community. Perhaps one day I will pack up my bags in search of this vision. As I walk the streets of the city life I now question, I cannot help but be conscious of those around me. Like the library regulars, each of these individuals has a story sitting behind them; a story as worthy as the next. Unfortunately society is not interested in the stories of some. The invisible hierarchical structures to which most of us unknowingly conform lead many to look down upon certain societal groups. As I write this I think of the homeless streetwalkers that have become so apparent to me over recent weeks. Many of us are worried by the presence of such individuals and frown upon their ending up in such a situation. I cannot help but now wonder what has lead to their being on the streets, and thinking that we can surely do more to help individuals in such a tragic situation. Such thoughts do not of course limit themselves to the streets of our own towns and cities. The mind then wonders to the many horrific scenes, happening across the globe, that are portrayed through the news reports on our television screens on a daily basis. Surely we can all do more to help?

As you can see, my attendance of the local library, and becoming aware of those around me, has initiated a process leading to my questioning of the many taken granted social norms that surround us and influence the way in which we are within the world. My eyes have been opened and the blinkers removed. I’ve started seeing the world and the actions of its inhabitants through a different lens. Hence, as I started at the opening of this short piece, “It’s amazing what can be learnt at the library!” especially without even opening and reading written text of any sort. However, as I’m now starting to realise, learning is one thing and actions are quite another. I just hope that I, and others, will take heed from these learnings and try to make the world a slightly more humane place by considering how we conduct ourselves in relation to one another.

[Vince]

I like your use and choice of words in this piece, as it makes it unique and reflects well on your character. Also the first person point of view helped establish a connection between the character and the reader, and I felt like your hero was trusting a secret to me. Gotta say that, at least twice while reading this piece, I had in my mind H.P. Lovecraft's earlier work and especially the "The Call of Cthulhu" and "At the Mountains of Madness", due to your fist POV and your vocabulary.

Now, moving on to the plot of your story. I felt it was rather intriguing, going into the depths of a small society, exploring the habits and its members and you have done well regarding this part. I have no further points to make for the plot, as it wasn't a "classic" story with a cause to achieve or something similar. It was like an essay and you have done well on making it feel like an essay.

All in all, it as a good piece and I enjoyed it. The reason I liked it was, not only it was an original idea, but it fleshed out nice.

[niamhoneill]

Hey Vince,

Thank you so much for your feedback it really is very much appreciated - I hope that it might spur others to comment also, be it negatively or positively.

I'm glad that you enjoyed my use of the personal pronoun it was purposely employed to help the reader step inside the writers shoes, so to speak, and experience these observations from my internal frame of reference.

Thanks again for your comments.

Niamh