It was National Libraries Day a little while ago and this is a belated gesture of support.  I read a lot – and were I to buy every book I read, not only would I have less money to spend on theatre tickets (v.bad), but I would also be unable to get round my house without clambering over tottering piles of word-based indulgence.  Some years ago I resolved to stop buying books wherever possible and to borrow them from the library instead.  My local branch is small, but for 50p I can reserve any book in Hampshire and have it delivered to my own town;  perhaps one in twenty  is so enjoyable that I decide to buy a copy, so my costs are down, and my bookcases are more manageable.  Partly driven by parsimony, partly based on an assumption that libraries are an efficient method of recycling, this has proved to be really workable and I commend the approach wholeheartedly.  Forgive me if it sounds smug.

The library recently came up trumps when I embarked on a Stella Gibbons binge.  Famous for Cold Comfort Farm and with some of her works revived recently via Radio 4, Stella Gibbons was a prolific author now enjoying a moderate comeback.  I read Westwood and enjoyed its slight eccentricities, its kindness, its slight air of melancholy and sharp appreciation of the English countryside – all the characteristics of life with the Starkadders, but toned down into something much gentler, akin to Barbara Pym and at times faintly reminiscent of Iris Murdoch.  A fit of online enthusiasm resulted in 10 reservations via the library, and an armful of volumes to collect.  Most were books now out of print and unearthed from the “book store” :  lovely 50 year-old hardbacks, some still in dust jackets with stylised illustrations, connecting me not only with an out-of-date author but also directly with the readers of a past generation.  It was a small privilege to have these books at home;  they offered something that the modern re-issues (where they are an option) cannot contain.   I read the same words, turned the same pages, as Ms Gibbons’ original readers and I joined that community.  The library was my only source, and as it turned out, it lent me much more than just the texts.