On the death of the church library

The most obvious takeaway from the death of church libraries is my initial horrifying conclusion that people don't read books any more. That's end-times stuff all right, but nowhere near to being true. While it is true your and my doctor's waiting room is full of people buried in their screens, most of them aren't playing games--they're reading. What?--I don't know, but they're reading. 

What do experts say? Somewhere close to a quarter of the entire population of the U. S. of A. did not read a book last year. A quarter may appear massive and foreboding, but if you flip the number around as some do, and say 75% of the America did read a book in the last year, it doesn't sound so much like a death knell. It's even a bit surprising.

Then there's the whole matter of media. These days, books come in all sorts of flavors. Right now, I'm juggling four books: one, I'm reading and recording audibly, Country People, by Ruth Suckow; another is an audiobook on my phone, a collection of short stories by Wendell Berry I listen to daily in the gym; a third is on my Kindle Scribe, a 1850s- era biography of James T. Frederick, an African-American mountain man; the fourth (and last!) is also on my Kindle, Tim Alberta's The Kingdom, the Power, and the Glory, this month's choice of the book club to which I belong. I'm "reading" four books, none of which I can hold in my hands. 

What that all suggests, of course, is that not all books these days have heft. In fact, more and more books come to us by way of our phones or iPads or computer screens, where some of those books are heard and others read. "Reading a book" these days, almost as often as not in my life anyway, has nothing to do with something bound and in your hands. 

I know that local libraries own audio books that can be checked out as if they were in print, but supporting digitizing a library requires both time and money--and most importantly, technical know-how. The demise of church libraries may well beat least in part understood if we think of the difficult time we all have dealing with the technology required. 

And then there's this: an incredible rise in political books. You may despise Donald Trump (I do), but he's been terrific for book sales and even newspaper subscriptions, national newspapers anyway. Everyone who has any experience at all with the ex-President and his day-to-day carnival has written a book as of late or else is planning one right now. Ghost writers are feeling no pain right now. Trying to understand the discipleship of millions of Trump supporters has created a huge market. No one has quite done it yet, but you can figure on more are coming out all the time.

Would a church library stock political books right now?

I'd guess probably not. If your church librarian wouldn't put Tim Alberta's book on the shelf to be loaned out, he or she is missing the kind of book that right now is selling big-time and is worth an entire church's time. If your church librarian wouldn't put Kristin Kobes DuMez on the shelf, your church library doesn't deserve to use up space. 

A friend of mine was doing a signing at a Christian bookstore recently. He told me when the crowds thinned (that's my description), he walked over to the store's fiction shelf and saw absolutely nothing he'd care to read. 

Dare I suggest that the death of church libraries may be in some small part understood on the basis of how well the librarian was able to buy books of relevance and high interest. I'm guessing most church libraries barely have a budget. I'm guessing--I'm no expert--that a church library that doesn't tell its patrons something about its latest titles or make sure those purchased titles had some legs, that moribund library would collect more dust than patrons. 

So I read the article, well done with the promise, I hope, of more. My gut reaction was horror. As a writer, I couldn't help but think that what closed-up libraries forecast is the death of the book. After all, America stands a chance of returning to office a man who can't read an 10-page summary of world affairs daily presented to whoever sits in the oval office, a man who is notorious for his lack of reading, a man who, consequently, doesn't understand NATO because he knows so very, very little about World War II and its aftermath. Millions of  us are being led by a man who doesn't read. That's horrifying.

But church libraries? I feel a little sad, but when they fail I'm not ready to say we're a step back into another round of the Dark Ages. The demise of church libraries is understandable.

I feel sorry of the Ally Junes of the world, the men and (mostly) women who kept shop in church libraries and did so with determination and resolve, despite the fact that they never really did much business, less so recently.

May such heroes--as well as their beloved libraries--rest in peace.