Each of these four books (and/or authors) has been recommended by one of you reading these very words, possibly more than one of you (and I’ve previously enjoyed another book by both Guadalupe Nettel and Charmaine Wilkerson too).

Laila loved Beautyland by Marie-Helen Bertino, Rebecca recommended Still Born by Guadalupe Nettel, Liz enjoyed Good Dirt by Charmaine Wilkerson, and Emma read another book by Timothy Snyder but there were many holds on it so I requested The Road to Unfreedom instead.

Last Monday, there were five places in the yard where snow was still piled, but the last one melted on Saturday (more because of the day-long rain than the temperature, although it reached a high of 8 that day). So the sidewalks will be reliably clear now, and I can resume more regular library visits.

This pleases me, but I’ve also really enjoyed focussing more on my own shelves (and not feeling so directed by my duedates). Last year, about 20% of my reading came from my own shelves. So far this year, about 60%. It turns out that you read more of your own books if you go to the library less often.

On Kanopy, I’ve watched a 2023 film called Library Stories: Books on the Backroads, which opens with Albert Einstein: “The only thing that you absolutely have to know is the location of the library.”

First it focuses on a library in El Rito, New Mexico, in an old adobe building which has served many purposes over the years. It’s not a municipal library, but it was receiving federal and state money (there’s an option for donations on their site). The summer reading program for young people is at the heart of the film, but it’s a community hub which fills many purposes.

Then, north to Villecitos, New Mexico, where the library is housed in another adobe building, which dates to 1850 and looks like it’s out of a movie about the gold rush (after the rush). There are some local history projects underway, and there’s also a cell phone on a cord that stretches out to the porch, which people use throughout the day to make calls (serving the many people who don’t have running water or electricity, let alone cell phone service).

These, like the library in Dixon, New Mexico are in agricultural and rural communities. The library there began in somebody’s house with their own collection of books, but it quickly outgrew the location. Now it has a thrift shop for fundraising, along with other necessities (if you’re a bee) like a pollinator garden.

All three operate like community meeting places, incorporating both Spanish and English languages, and hosting all sorts of seasonal and other themed events. One’s older card catalogue serves as a storage system for natural artifacts (like a bird’s nest) and another’s serves as a seed library (still alphabetical).

West to Glenwood where there’s a preponderance of hermits. Historical divisions between ranchers and new arrivals have been eased by the library, which also accommodates those who don’t leave home (bringing books to them instead). There are no schools there (not enough children) so summer reading programs are vitally important, both for content and for socialisation. (Here there’s a volunteer with two PhDs who helps curate and catalogue the collection.)

There are also 18 Pueblo, 2 Apache, and 1 Navajo chapter libraries in New Mexico, and there’s a portion of this film dedicated to the Jemez Pueblo Library. Among other roles, this library protects and nurtures Indigenous languages. There is a storytime in the Towa language, for instance, which includes discussion in the native language (work supported by elders and other family members).

The Magdalena train depot was built to service the mines and it now houses the public library. (Portions of the wall have been preserved, on which workers and travellers marked their names, scores of years in the past.) After the mines closed in the 1950s, the cattle drive kept the community alive. Now, one librarian manages the catalogue and all the programming. (The mayor is a metal-worker, so you get a peek of his workshop too.)

In Datil, the Baldwin Community library is in an old cabin (complete with historical images) which opened as a library in 1999 during a snowstorm. They actually still use their card catalogue as a card catalogue; they’re not computerised but they do have audiobooks and largeprint books (about four small shelves).

North of Santa Fe, in Abiquiu, the library serves as a central location for the Indigenous people participating in community events to gather and prepare for traditional feast days, for instance. Residents talk about how important it is to the Pueblo community to have resources available, as well as some special projects including an archaeological dig and research into community members’ DNA which illuminated unexplored Indigenous ancestry for some who were not aware of their inheritance.

It was really neat to see the variety of structures and how much space is available for books and for other purposes; some have stacks and rows like the libraries I know, whereas others have just a few bookcases like the kinds you might have at home.  And I also learned about the acequias system in New Mexico, the manmade system of canals, structured to supply water for irrigation. As well as where to get homegrown chard and where to hear the best gossip.

It’s an excellent reminder of the important role that libraries play everywhere. And it fits perfectly with Rebecca’s monthly #LoveYour Library event.