NYPL

For some of us of a certain predilection, the most important site in New York is the New York Public Library. Restaurants, theaters, shops, monuments and stadiums all beckon, but do not represent the repertoire of knowledge and culture collected within the walls of the exquisite building at 42nd and Fifth Avenue. Even if it is just a quick pass through the gift shop, a trip to the library is always rewarding.

The ceiling of the reading room surreptitiously
taken with my iPad

A few hours reading books in the main reading room, where no tourists are allowed to take photographs, is ennobling. Unlike many other libraries these days, the time-honored traditional of quiet reflection is largely observed. Often the only noises, which are magnified because of unusual silence is the frequent sound of the wooden chairs legs dragged across the tile floor and the infrequent coughs of patrons. It is a quiet oasis in the midst of a great bustling city. 

The best quality of a research library is that there are books and material that is available very few places, or nowhere else in the world. In fact, the New York Public Library system is a treasure trove of unique items. It is one of the things that makes the library so special and why so many fight to keep much of the collection on-site to continue to make it a working research library.

While the collection makes the library particularly useful, the building inspires us to greatness. At the entrance to the main reading rooms is a quote from John Milton that reminds us of the immortality of literature, words and books: “A good Booke is the precious life-blood of a master spirit, imbalm’d and treasur’d up on purpose to a life beyond life.” There are also corners of the library that reminds of us days passed; my favorite is the bank of public telephones in the basement that are, today, rarely used. 

Public telephones at the NYPL

I was reading a fairly obscure book by a British author (only 52 libraries around the world reported having a copy) from the early post-World War II era. I had expected to find the book distasteful and vehemently disagree with the ideas presented; however, I was struck by the thoughtful exploration of the issue in question. While I disagree with the overall premise, it did strike me as an interesting understanding of issues from a bygone day. The author had written five other books, which made me wonder if the library held copies. More broadly, what ideas, thoughts, stories, narratives and collections must be contained in the volumes within the stacks of the library? These are the types of books that are not on any type of electronic device and likely never will be. When was the last time someone read the book I read on that beautiful fall afternoon? Are there books that have not been read in decades that would be discovered by a patron later today? Next week? Or next year?