Chapter+Five+-+Castles+I+Have+Known

**World of Words**
Late afternoon sunlight sifts through the large, lead- pained windows. Specks of dust twirl in the light, tiny tornadoes. Birds call from the willow branches tapping panes of glass, an airplane rumbles over the roof. I hear nothing. I am no longer here. Lost in a world of words, I turn the page and my eyes follow letter after letter, sentences tugging my mind to places more real than the cold, hard floor where my body waits, still.

Washington Squar e
As a child, I often visited the Washington Square Library. I remember its large, open children's reading room - wide stained glass windows, a fireplace, lumpy chairs, and tall shelves of books for me to explore. I remember applying for my first library card here and checking out a chapter book about horses (//Black Beauty//, I'm guessing). I must have been seven or eight years old at the time. The card, it seemed, gave me a feeling of power and instilled in me a sense of awe. That I could just walk into the old brick building, choose any book I wanted off the shelf, and then keep this book for two weeks felt like a privelege, an honor, an entry to a special society of people who loved words and the worlds they described.

As a child, I associated this library with the magical books it contained. This was not simply a brick-and-mortar building, but a storehouse for places I would visit in my imagination. Over the years, I have visited this library countless times and have experienced so many reading adventures there, I rarely notice that the building itself holds beauty. Interested in learning more about this physical place, I did a little investigating into the Kalamazoo Public Library's historical archives. There, I discovered my [|Washington Square Branch Library] is often called "The Castle" and has been mistaken for a church. It was originally built in 1927, and by the time I began browsing its shelves in the mid-1970's, it had just celebrated its 50th anniversary. According to these [|historical archives], "The building, of old English design, is made of tapestry brick with limestone trim and two-toned slate on the gabled roof. The interior features oak woodwork, decorative panels, small-paned leaded glass windows, and three open fireplaces. Rough timbers outline its steep ceiling...From the beginning it was praised locally as 'a place of charm and delight,' and received national recognition for the efficiency of its design." As a child, I was certainly entranced by the beauty of this building. Fireplaces, window seats, arched windows - it seemed like a castle to me. In the children's reading room, there were so many places to hide from the rest of the world, sit with a book, and imagine I was transported to C.S. Lewis' mystical wardrobe, a fairytale kingdom, or far-away place in the "real" world.

Books that transported me from Washington Square:
The Anne of Green Gables series by Lucy Maude Montgomery Black Beauty by Anna Sewell Farewell to Manzanar by Jeanne Wakatsuki-Houston The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe by CS Lewis Little Women by Louisa May Alcott The Secret Garden by Frances Hodgson Burnett

Oshetmo Branch
Until recently, I continued to live in my childhood neighborhood, the closest library being the Washington Square branch. Now, however, I live in another area of Kalamazoo, less than a mile from the city's newest branch library in Oshetemo. This past winter, I noticed this library offered a "family story time," and I decided to take my sons (then 2 and 4 years of age) to this new experience in a new library. The first time I drove up to the library, though, I have to admit I was sorely disappointed. Unlike my dusty, brick, stained-glass Washington Square branch, this building is not historical or even serious-looking. Sleek and modern, the library is described as " whimsical." The Kalamazoo Public Library's [|historical archives] describes the construction of this site by stating the "new building arose like a medieval village around a castle. Designed to appeal to children and the young at heart, it features colorful, basic geometric forms. A circular path leads through the barrel-vaulted reading room, past the reference area, circulation desk, young adult and children's rooms, and into a community meeting room." As I walked toward this new building, this fanciful architecture, I wondered, "Will this library be a magical reading place for me and my children?"


 * [[image:http://www.kpl.gov/collections/LocalHistory/Images/Oshtemo%20Branch/OshTwilight.jpg width="400" height="305" align="center" link="http://http//www.kpl.gov/collections/LocalHistory/KPL/KPLHistory_Oshtemo.aspx"]] ||
 * Oshtemo Branch Library at twilight, 1998 ||
 * Photographed by Fred Golden for David Milling & Associates. ||

Not suprisingly, my children love this new library. Its large, open floor plan allows for long walks through the children's collections, plenty of windows offer sunlight and warmth, and whimsical artwork lends a playful, childlike aura to the entire building. I have spent many hours with my children here. We have made puppets and listened to picture books at the children's story times, and we have borrowed many new story books from the shelves. However, this library still feels too new, too sterile, too modern to be a special reading place for me. Call me sentimental, but I really do miss the dusty, damp children's reading room at the Washington Square Library.

A Room of One's Own
Why am I so attached to the old library? How can a place affect my identity as a reader? Do physical surroundings truly write themselves on our minds, shaping our identities? These are some of the questions I wonder as I consider "place" as an identity influence. For me, Washington Square Library certainly holds significance because this was the place where I first received a library card - a magic portal into a never-ending supply of books. However, the long hours I spent there in my childhood reading beside its large windows also made an impression on my identity. From that physical space, I developed a belief about **where** I wanted to read. In the library, I always sat by one of the large windows - sunlight splashed across pages and drafts of air prickled my arms. I remember smelling dusty paper, old bindings. These are the sensual experiences I long for today every time I open a book. Not surprisingly, I try to buy used books instead of new ones. I love the feel of worn pages and how the ink sometimes blurs, or how I can find another reader's handwriting on a flyleaf or in page margins. I also enjoy reading next to a window. In our new home, we have a large chair across where the sunlight streams in the late afternoon. This is where I sit.

And as I sit in my big chair by the window, with my old, dusty books, I wonder how my experience as a reader is similar or different from the experiences of my students. Do they have library memories? Library cards? Do they own books? Do they read at home? I think about my classroom and the type of reading environment I can create for them. I look at the freshly-painted walls, laptop computers, state-of-the-art lighting. My classroom does not feel like a library. Not yet. I need comfortable chairs, a rug, a bookcase, and lots of lots of books. Yes, what I need most are lots and lots of stories, especially the stories of my students. Maybe I need a chalkboard or a bulletin board. Maybe a mailbox. Someplace where we can leave each other notes about books, about reading, about the stories we carry in our lives.

**When I build a library**
All I want is a room - not of my own - but a place where my books feel comfortable. A room of dust jackets, cracked bindings, pages soft from turning. Sunlight and sounds of birds to tempt me from my words, my secrets stacked on ceiling to floor shelves, my mind let loose, wandering within these walls.