I love reading, but sometimes it feels like there are just too many books out there. How do you keep up with all the new releases? Walk into any bookstore, and it can be overwhelming. You see new titles, classic gems, and tempting biographies. Visiting the library feels the same; so many choices can lead to indecision.
But just around the corner from me is a tiny street library. It’s a simple wooden box with a plastic door. Inside, you’ll find a curated collection of donated books from my neighbors.
This little library can hold about two dozen books at most. In a world filled with endless options, I appreciate this limited selection. Choosing a book from just a few feels manageable. Maybe there’s something I want to read; maybe not. Either way, it’s less stressful.
Visiting this library gives me a glimpse into my neighborhood. I wonder about the people who donate their diet cookbooks or the ones who pass along advanced reading copies. Someone always drops off their latest copy of a magazine a little late. I’m curious about who’s sharing play scripts or celebrity memoirs. Their choices spark my interest and connect me to the readers around me.
With a smaller selection, I often find myself checking out books I wouldn’t normally look at in a bigger store. It’s a chance to discover titles that suit my taste yet slipped through the cracks. For example, I found Cho Nam-Joo’s thought-provoking novel, “Kim Ji-young, Born 1982,” which tackles tough topics like depression and sexism in South Korea. I also came across VV Ganeshananthan’s beautiful story, “Brotherless Night,” set during the Sri Lankan civil war.
Sometimes, I dig out older books that I missed when they first came out. That’s how I got to read Donna Tartt’s “The Goldfinch,” which has become one of my favorites, along with Paul Kalanithi’s touching memoir, “When Breath Becomes Air,” and Maggie O’Farrell’s “The Hand That First Held Mine.”
Now and then, I even stumble upon a childhood favorite: graphic novel adaptations of “The Baby-Sitters Club.” Reading one of those brings me back to my younger self in just half an hour. When I hit a reading slump, I might find a stack of Jodi Picoult’s books. After picking up a new one, I remember why I loved her stories, even if I reach my limit soon after.
Not typically a mystery reader, I impulsively grabbed Richard Osman’s “The Thursday Murder Club” for a trip. I devoured it! A few weeks later, I was thrilled to see the next book in the series waiting for me in the library. I return every book as I finish, imagining my neighbors and I sharing a secret book club where we read each one together.
I still enjoy buying the latest releases and using my library card. But the little neighborhood library brings a special kind of calm. It connects me not only to my community but also to books I may have forgotten. I pop in every few days, hoping to find something new or see if my donations are still being read. While I might not always pick up something fresh, the books will be there when I return, quietly reflecting the stories of our neighborhood.
