The Love of Libraries

August 9, 2015

As both a writer and a reader, I love libraries.  I learned to read at a very early age, thanks to my retired-teacher grandmother, who lived with us.  Money was scarce and there was no bookstore in our tiny little town, but there was a library, remarkably well-supplied for rural Ontario.  I read my way through the children’s section, and at about eleven, switched to the adult books. This wasn’t allowed – I was far too young – but my mother fought for my right to read what I wanted, and won.

In high school we swapped books around in a small group of geeky science fiction and fantasy fans, and I read Verne and Lovecraft and Eddison as well as Tolkien and Dunsany and Lewis. Somewhere in my late teens I learned libraries would order books for you, if they didn’t have them, and this opened up another source of new worlds and new thoughts. I read the Beat poets and writers, and Kesey and Tom Wolfe, and Toni Morrison and Alice Walker – new voices for me.  Then I went to university – on student loans and summer wages – and discovered used bookstores, where I spent far too much money.

Meanwhile I continued to use local libraries, reading four or five books a week, fairly indiscriminately.  I’d stopped using the hold or request functions, though, because if I really wanted a book and it wasn’t available, or, I saw one and liked the cover and the blurb, I just bought it.  Bookstores were a destination most weekends, and I rarely came away without at least one book, and as we moved from undergrad to grad school, and then to working, and disposable income increased steadily – I (we, actually) bought more and more books.

During this time, I also came to appreciate the library – in this case the university library – as a place of calm and quiet, a place where I could write.  First my M.Sc. thesis, written on the exceptionally quiet fifth floor, and then, over the years but in the same place, other works – poetry, short stories, and quite a bit of my first novel.   It’s also the same floor and  the same study carrel where I’m writing this blog right now, and where frequently I’m working on Empire’s Hostage, the sequel to Empire’s Daughter. It’s a space both low on distractions – no cats wanting attention, no husband commenting on the game he’s watching, no house or garden chores nagging at me – and high on acquired discipline.  When you’ve been writing in one place for thirty years,  habits of productivity are reinforced by the environment.

While I was working, I only used the university library on weekends.  What little bit of writing I did do during the working week was done at home in my study/library, but in comparison with the university setting I found it hard to work there, even when I was alone in the house.  Gradually I came to realize that the visual distractions in my study – mostly the overflowing shelves of books and the piles of papers on the desk – were in complete counterpoint to the spare and organized university space.  All those books were working against me, love them as I did.  So we culled, donating to book sales, and I moved papers into files on the shelf space freed up.  Suddenly I had a home environment much more conducive to work. (If you are interested in my writer’s blog, please visit it at https://marianlthorpe.wordpress.com/).

But I need new books, for research, for pleasure, for contemplation. Slowly the shelves began to fill up again….and then we retired early, and our income fell by sixty percent.  I looked at what we spent on books each year, and blanched.

These are our book buying parameters now:  first, see if it’s available from the library, including interlibrary loans and purchase requests.  This works about 80% of the time, although there is often a considerable wait.  I once hated waiting for books; now I appreciate the anticipation, the pleasure or learning I know is going to come.  If the library doesn’t have it and can’t get it, look for used, especially on-line when it’s a book I need for research.  Again, waiting a few months often yields the book from these sources.  But if all else fails, and either of us are absolutely certain the book is needed for research OR that it will be read multiple times, as I do with books I buy for contemplation – then it is bought.

And the books I used to buy on impulse, because I liked the cover?  Now I pick those up from the new book shelves at the library.

Habitual Behaviours

August 8, 2015

Relearning spending patterns, like creating any new behaviour, doesn’t happen overnight.  There are triggers to our spending, especially on things that aren’t necessities. In the downtown of the university town north of us, where I shop, and where we go for films and bookstores, are a few streets of cafes, small interesting shops, a couple of local/organic food stores, two bookshops and an art-house cinema. And the library and an eclectic video rental shop, and the Saturday market. It’s been the cultural and epicurean hub of our lives for the last thirty-five years.  It’s also a spending trigger for me.

On Wednesday this week we were going to see Mr. Holmes at the art-house cinema, along with two friends.  So already there was a ‘treat’, something that didn’t happen every day, waiting for me.  I was making dinner for after the film, and as it’s summer, and warm, I chose to do two salads and cold, sliced chicken breast, along with good bread and olive oil.  I had bought the vegetables for the salads on Tuesday, and I was making the bread, but one of the locally-sourced foodshops downtown does exceptional free-run store-roasted chicken breasts.  So I went to buy them, along with  a few other items needed for later in the week.

I had several other errands to run, and one appointment to keep, and by bad planning it was nearly 1 pm by the time I got to the foodshop, and I hadn’t eaten lunch.  Now, remember, I’ve already said in an earlier post we’d basically blown our entertainment budget for the month by going out for an expensive dinner, plus we were going to a movie the same evening.  But this foodshop also has a little cafe, and makes healthy sandwiches and very good coffee.  So along with my chicken breasts, I bought lunch.  It was a good lunch:  a roasted veggie sandwich with cheese on a store-made wholegrain bun with a cup of coffee.  No guilt about junk food.  But it was $10 I shouldn’t have spent.  Not this month.

It’s not going to send us into debt, of course.  I’m not agonizing over it, but I am analyzing why I did it.  And mostly, it’s the associations of that location.  Yes, I was hungry, but I could (and should) have had a cup of coffee and biscotti – which would have been $3 or so – and eaten when I got home.  It was my last stop.  But this part of downtown is where I went to treat myself when I was working – Saturday morning coffee-and-bagels after the farmers’ market;  pizza and wine after a movie; books browsed and bought.  A good chunk of my novel was written in these coffee shops.  A place of refuge and relaxation from work, and through all my medical treatments last fall and winter.  The sane centre of my world.

So what am I going to do about it?  Three things.  First off, recognize and expect the trigger.  Secondly, plan to not be there at lunchtime on an empty stomach.  And thirdly – keep going!  I don’t need to deny myself the special relationship I have with this neighbourhood, but I do need to go there mindfully.

Choosing Wisely

August 5, 2015

A few nights ago, we had dinner with two couples at a fairly expensive restaurant.  At first glance, this seemed both unwise – the meal would cost most of our entertainment budget for the month – and contrary to our desire to live simply.  But let’s examine this more closely.

Both of us enjoy and appreciate very good food, and this particular restaurant is very good, consistently featured in Where to Eat in Canada.  It also serves locally sourced foods, which is important to us.  The night was perfect for our patio table, and the company and conversation of our friends delightful.  We had a memorable meal – I ate caesar salad, a quail appetizer, and frites, followed by coffee and a whiskey; my husband had quail and pickerel- and the meal and tip came to about $120.00, as we expected.

As we left the restaurant, our friends asked to join us there again in about three weeks.  And – this is the important part – I declined, explaining honestly that we can’t afford it that often, which they understood.

But as I have reflected on that meal this week, I realized I declined not just because of the cost, but because I really don’t want to eat like that too often.  Not because it was expensive, or we overate (we didn’t), but because it was an experience I want to savour and remember as something exceptional.  Treats are not treats if they happen too often.  Good food is important, something we take seriously in our meal planning, preparation and shopping, but there is a difference between everyday good food and a very special meal.

Adjustments will be made to this month’s spending to accommodate this meal, money cut from both the entertainment and grocery budgets.  We’ve traded a couple of movies at our local art-house cinema and some more-expensive foods and beverages for those few hours on the patio.

But, for us, this meal was a wise choice, because of the quality of time shared with our friends, the immediate appreciation of the food, and the on-going pleasure of the memories engendered.  It was also a considered choice, discussed and planned for, the costs, not just financial but in our quality of life for the rest of the month, analyzed.  Did we choose wisely?  We believe we did.