Good day! Today's guest blog come from Mary Vensel White, author of The Qualities of Wood. A young woman is found dead, a young wife suspects her husband, but is he actually to blame? Christina Baker Kline, author of #1 NYT bestseller, Orphan Train, says this book is "a haunting and provocative debut," so I would surely snag a copy now.
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During a recent visit to my hometown of Lancaster, California, I drove over to the library we frequented when I was a kid. It’s boarded up now—the city built a new library in the 1990s—but you can still catch the Sixties vibe from the curvy ridges of the exterior walls and its practical, cube design. The blue, horizontal stripe painted around the building came later; this is one of the memories that surfaced as I stood there. I recalled, too, many sensory impressions from the inside: the whoosh of the door when you stepped from the bright desert heat into the cool tranquility, the smell of pressed paper, of old paper, a sense of the mystery of countless books and what they might hold. And I remembered the clicking sound of the huge Rolodex-type file when the librarian searched for that pink card with my name typed at the top, and the feeling of belonging when she found it.
When I was young, I was extremely shy and the library was a safe, comfortable place. I knew the system, knew where things were. An environment where speaking is prohibited may be the most welcoming kind for a quiet child. And yet, the library was one of just a few places where I had the bravery to speak to someone I didn’t know. Librarians were always friendly, they always spoke in hushed tones, and they always, always were happy to help. That’s a universal truth that holds to the present, when I take my own children to the library. A trusted breed, librarians are enthusiastic, curious, and always ready with the right book at the right time. Often, that’s just what a kid needs.
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Thank you, Mary!
– Annie