The selfish case for public libraries

I love public libraries, and they’re where I get about half the books I read.

When people talk about why libraries should exist, it’s usually framing them as a social good. Libraries provide low-cost access to books and information, they’re a hub for digital literacy and access to technology, and they’re one of the few remaining third places where people are treated as citizens rather than consumers. Their role has grown from being a lender of books to being a vital community resource.

Those are noble reasons for libraries to exist, but not necessarily reasons to use them. I sometimes hear them said with a patronising tone, from people who think libraries are only for other people. To them, a library is a charity for the poor and illiterate, not a destination for the well-read.

I think this is a failure of imagination. Even though I can afford to buy my own books and you could argue I don’t “need” a library, using them has made me a happier reader.

A risk-free way to find my next favourite author

Libraries are a cheap and safe way to me to try lots of different books, including books I’m not sure if I’ll like. Sometimes, those experiments become new favourites.

If I’m buying books in a bookshop, I lean towards the familiar, towards books like the ones I already enjoy. It’s unusual for me to get anything radically different, because I don’t want to gamble my money on a complete unknown.

Borrowing a book from the library is free, so it’s easier to try a new author or genre. I can read two chapters and return a book guilt-free if it’s not my cup of tea. But sometimes, I try something very different, and I discover a whole new collection of books to enjoy.

I found some of my favourite books and authors through library books I probably wouldn’t have picked off a bookshop shelf:

• Alexandra Bellefleur: Listening to the library audiobook of Written in the Stars introduced me to sapphic romances, not something I’d read before, now one of my favourite genres.
• Jodie Chapman: I’m not religious, so I’d probably have skipped her debut novel Another Life, which has strong religious themes. I borrowed it from the library instead, absolutely adored it, and I still think about it four years later.
• Ravena Guron: Murder mystery is a crowded space, and the library helped me find an author who is now on my “read anything she writes” list.

Most library books are just “fine” – I enjoy them and return them to the shelf. I wouldn’t want every book to be a massive revelation, but those discoveries happen more often because the library reduces the cost of being curious.

A release valve for my crowded shelves

I love living in a house with books, but I only have so much shelf space. Libraries allow me to read lots of books without cluttering up my home.

If I buy a book, I’m also buying a future decision: when I’m done, do I keep it, gift it, or donate it? It’s not a difficult decision, but it’s just another thing to think about. It’s easy for a book to get “stuck” in my home for years, even when I don’t actually want to keep it.

When I finish a library book, there is no decision to make: I know I have to return it to the library. When I’m done, I drop it in the returns bin and forget about it. It’s an easy, safe default that keeps my home clutter-free.

I especially love using libraries for books that I know I’m only going to read once, like romance novels and murder mysteries. Once I know the ending, I’m unlikely to revisit those books unless they’re really exceptional.

I still buy books, and if I really like a library book I’ll buy my own copy – but for everything else, the library has helped refine my shelves into the set of books I really love, not just a record of everything I’ve ever touched.

A built-in deadline to keep me moving

As I prepare to move house later this year, I’ve been uncovering stashes of unread books. Some have followed me across multiple moves; some I’ve owned for over a decade. I used to tell myself that these books were “maturing” on my shelf, but really they were just stagnating. I’ve donated many of them to my local charity shop, because I’ve finally admitted I’ll never actually read them.

I don’t have this problem with library books, because the return period triggers a “use it or lose it” response in my brain. I have to read a book before it’s gone, or decide not to and return it. This works even though I know it’s a completely artificial deadline – if I run out of time, I can always renew or re-borrow a book – I still feel that sense of urgency.

Return periods are some form of literary placebo: the ticking clock tricks me into prioritising a book, not letting it blend into the furniture.

My “To Be Read” list is longer than ever, but most of it is now in the library’s digital catalogue rather than physical piles in my home. When I get a book, I read it quickly or not at all – and either way, it doesn’t sit around untouched for fifteen years.

An all-you-can-read buffet

Public libraries will never be my sole source of books – I have to go elsewhere for niche, specialist, and academic texts – but using them has helped me read more and find new favourites. They’re a vital social good, but I don’t use them out of a sense of civic duty. I use them because they make me a happier, more adventurous, and more prolific reader.