Why Small Libraries Matter

How Maine’s Small and Rural Libraries Serve Their Communities

—by Jen Maffett (Pembroke) and Barbara Baig (Edmunds TWP)

Note: a shorter version of this appeared in the Bangor Daily News as an Op Ed.

A library is not a luxury but one of the necessities of life.

—Henry Ward Beecher

When most people think of a library, they’re likely to picture one in a big city—Bangor, perhaps, or Portland. They’re likely to imagine impersonal rows of book stacks, carousels of DVDs, a score of tables, each with its own computer, equipped with high-speed Internet and the latest software. There are several such libraries in Maine.

But Maine, with its long history and geographical reach, has a different kind of library, too. These libraries—there are over 200 of them—are not in big cities, but in small towns and in rural areas, where they serve, not thousands of patrons, like the large urban libraries, but a few hundred, or even fewer.

Hearing those figures, many people might be inclined to dismiss small, rural libraries as unimportant, to say, “If those libraries have to close, what does it matter?” But those people are wrong. The small and rural libraries in Maine have a special value, a value to their local communities, a value that goes far beyond checking books in and out, a value, in fact, that extends far beyond the boundaries of those communities and into our own lives.

Rural libraries in Maine might be housed in small buildings, but they often have a large patron base. Because distances between rural towns are so big, one library can serve people who might live fifty miles or more away. In Washington County, for instance, patrons of the Pembroke Library come from many surrounding communities: Robbinston, Charlotte, Perry, and Edmunds. A rural library’s service area is usually much more extensive than its local community.

In many small towns and rural areas, spaces to display local information are often limited to a cluttered bulletin board in a convenience store, plastered with out-of-date notices.But if the town has a library, it typically provides a clean and well-organized notice board, to keep local people informed of what’s going on.

In cities, public spaces are plentiful. But in small towns and rural areas, the library is often the only available public space. Responding to local needs, a library provides a vital gathering space. Patrons borrowing books might run into old friends or make new ones; seniors, especially vulnerable to the effects of isolation, come to socialize.When temperatures plummet or spike, some libraries offer shelter to those living without heat or air conditioning.

Most small libraries have embraced their role as community centers. Interest groups are encouraged to gather here: to knit, quilt, play ukuleles or chess, work on a community jigsaw puzzle, sing, discuss, learn. Just about every small library has a book group for adults and programs for children. Some rural libraries are housed near or in a school, providing extra learning opportunities. Other towns provide weekly bus trips to the local library for school children.

Many small libraries give local artists the only space in town to display their work; many provide space for other organizations to offer concerts and lectures. One library is part museum. Another houses a craft shop. Yet another one facilitates weddings and offers notary service. Most small libraries run a used book shop, with the sales helping to fund the library. All of these events and activities reflect the specific needs of each community, and are made possible mostly through the energies and efforts of volunteers. These volunteers know what their community needs because they live and work there, and their patrons are neighbors and friends. These librarians don’t need survey forms to find out what their patrons want; all they have to do is listen to them.

Volunteers are at the heart of every small library; they are the people who make it happen. These people give of their time and energy to clean the library floors and dust the shelves, to shovel the walkways, to take out the trash, to clean the public restrooms and plant gardens around the building. They do their best to make the library an attractive place, arranging furniture to make cozy reading nooks, keeping a fire going in the fireplace in the winter, cleaning windows. They develop programs for their patrons; they do fundraising.

Naturally, volunteer librarians sort and file books and other media and check them in and out. They recommend books and movies and help patrons find what they need. But often the small, rural libraries serve their communities in a vital and broader sense, providing access to information and services that would otherwise be unavailable.

Many people in rural areas can’t get access to the Internet where they live, or can’t afford service. The Library’s Internet connection rescues them: with it they can research colleges or job opportunities, renew credentials, apply for a job, purchase or change airline tickets, learn a new skill, educate themselves through an online course, and stay connected to what’s going on in the larger world. Through all types of media, from magazines and books to new technologies, patrons of all ages—from tots to seniors—can discover new ideas and create new connections.

Many rural areas have a rich history, but no building to house historical documents. Here, too, the local library steps in, providing a home for irreplaceable local archives and managing them for present and future use. Some of the libraries have a vibrant history themselves, having served their communities for over 100 years. Stories of their founding make fascinating reading.

The Milo Public Library, for instance, began in 1902 as a “traveling library,” with books obtained from the Maine State Library. For a while the collection lived in a private home, until volunteers successfully obtained a Carnegie grant in 1921 to fund a dedicated library building. The result was a handsome “Carnegie-style” building that was eventually added to the National Register of Historic Places.

The Monheghan Memorial Library originated as a memorial to two children—regular summer visitors Jackie and Edward—who died in a storm in 1926. Every volume in the well-stocked children’s section bears a bookplate featuring the words “Jackie and Edward’s Library.”

On Mount Desert Island, the Somesville Library had its beginnings in 1884, when twelve local women raised funds to buy books kept in their homes. Eventually they were able to purchase land overlooking the water, and in 1895 construction was begun on a modest building—only

three rooms—that still houses the Library, and which features, as neighbors, bald eagles, seals, and waterfowl.

Imagine the hard work and determination shown by the women and men who decided their communities should have libraries, and made that happen: raising funds, soliciting donations, balancing costs and expenses, making decisions about sites and sizes and building shapes.

These values of hard work and determination, of a commitment to give of self to help others— these values are embodied, still, in the people who maintain small and rural libraries today. These simple values may get lost in the noise of our present world, but though they are simple, they are powerful, and potentially life-changing—for those who work in small libraries, and those who benefit from them.

As one library volunteer and Board Member puts it: “We are the only public space supporting the arts in our town. And we are the only organization here that is preserving the historical record of our town. We consider our Library to be essential to the character of our town and to the happiness and well-being of our patrons!”