3 1/2 stars
We all make mistakes: run late, spill our coffee, forget someone's name, or sign up for the wrong thing. Little mistakes with little consequences that are forgotten easily. However little mistakes can turn into bigger things: signing up for the wrong thing (during a mix-up of her church's ministry meetings) had the author of this book, Schultz, go from serving the weekly communion at the local penitentiary to becoming a prison librarian. Not what she expected!
Schultz re-imagines prison as a penitentiary, from the early root word meaning "from the Latin poenitentia, meaning repentance, or the desire to be forgiven... Once upon a time, a penitentiary was a place one could go to reflect on one's religious transgressions and ask forgiveness of God. And in early America, a penitentiary was different from a prison in that its purpose was reform rather than punishment." (p. 266, Ch. 9) While Schultz desires reform, she is clear-eyed about the men inside the prison. The men also struggled with how to view Schultz: was she a whore or a Madonna? She holds no aspersions about the crimes the men (some of them were barely more than boys) committed or who they are, rather she frequently struggles with the ideas of forgiveness and humanity. Can a person change? Can a person be forgiven? (Some of this is based on Schultz's personal faith and some of this is based on general belief in who humans are.) She also wanted the men to see her own humanity and failings and learn that women and men are equal.
Told through the use of the Dewey Decimal System for each chapter heading; the library-nerd in me appreciated this. Sometimes though this format felt a bit forced. Some of this book was previously published as essays and maybe that is why some of the chapters didn't quite line up throughout. I found it fascinating and sometimes a bit almost intimidating how quickly it seemed that Schultz went from being a volunteer to a prison librarian. Though she did talk throughout how time-consuming and tedious the prison system was for trying to get anything accomplished, even for something like putting up a bulletin board or getting permission for starting a newsletter. I have a new appreciation now for the intricacies of bureaucracy.
My favorite chapter, was "700 Art & Recreation" which had a list (from books donated to the prison library) of "items found in books, often functioning as bookmarks:
homemade string
plastic tooth flossers, used and unused
candy wrappers
important legal documents
free Bible pamphlets
trust account statements
mail order photos of sexy girls with cleavage and/or visible butt cheeks
old envelopes, faded and soft from handling
canteen receipts
pictures torn from the library's magazines
a postcard from Paris, breezily signed by a famous musician parent
any item that had been laminated
hair"
We have had books donated to the library (pre-COVID) and items returned to the library; library staff like to trade stories about the really strange items that are returned as "bookmarks." Yes, a slice of raw bacon really happened (and lunch meat too!). A piece of American Cheese still limply in its wrapper. Money in the form of bills or checks (we return these). Tampons, toilet paper, pads, bandaids...thankfully, the ones I have found were all unused. Too many family and class pictures to count. Bills and notices long past due. Stickers, used lollipop sticks, and tiny bits of toys or broken parts of jewelry. Receipts, innumberable, and doodles galore (I am guilty of these). Playing cards, Christmas and birthday cards have all been jammed between the pages of books. Library workers see the mundane and the bizarre.
What I appreciated most about Schultz's time and her work at the prison library is what I believe about libraries fundamentally. Outside of the library we may carry burdens; the world may try to do everything in its power to break us or make us the worst versions of ourselves. When we come to the library, it is a safe space for everyone. As Schultz wrote, "The yard could be a harsh judge...For me, the yard existed outside the doors of the library. Conflicts and and prejudices belonged out on the yard, not in the library. Closed mindsets and ignorant opinions were to be left out on the yard. They were unwelcome in the library. As far as I was concerned, the library was on the yard, but not of the yard. It was a place of light and learning. It was sacred ground." (pp. 272-273, Chapter 9)
My library may not be a sacred ground. I hope though that it is a welcoming place, a place where we can bring light to others (and maybe a little bit of fun and learning too!).