Public libraries shaped me

What education I have I got from public libraries.

I could wish my education were better. I wish there were fewer holes, fewer subjects about which I know nothing. But I am still learning, trying to close those gaps in my understanding of the cosmos, of humankind and of me.

The many holes in my education are the fault of the student, not the institution. I revere the library as others revere a temple.

In the two generations before mine, some great minds tried to imagine ways to improve the average citizen. It was a discussion about education, not politics.

The movement to improve the average citizen had many champions. The Great Books program began as a college curriculum and evolved, in one version, into a kind of book-of-the-month club for ordinary folks. Harvard had its 5-foot bookshelf. Several publishers tried to provide affordable copies of classics. The Little Blue Books were still around when I was a student. Penguin published more good books than I’ve been able to read.

The effort that most influenced me was the work of the Committee on College Reading. A group of college professors compiled a pamphlet of recommendations for “supplementary reading” in 1932. It was a list of books, other than textbooks, that an educated person might know.

The pamphlet grew into a book, Good Reading. It had about 2,000 entries by the time I found it. My edition was published in 1969.

The idea was stunning: I could, just by reading, give myself a pretty good education.

Just by reading. Something I did with joy.

J. Sherwood Weber, the spokesman for the committee, wrote: “You must find time for non-required reading or surrender yourself to self-chosen ignorance.”

I used Good Reading as a starting point, rather than a guide. There are many classic works I haven’t gotten to yet. When my interest was piqued by a subject, I followed it. But I keep coming back to the list, just to see what I’m missing.

Over the decades, I’ve borrowed countless books from public libraries. I’ve read in coffee shops, under trees and in my easy chair. I read Paradise Lost in a cavernous, deserted barracks in San Diego. An aircraft carrier had just put to sea, and I had the place to myself.

It’s customary, in old age, to remember your sins and assess your shortcomings. But I don’t regret this: Early in life, I got into the habit of going to the library and finding something good to read.

Reading changes your mind — the very way you think — and so it changes you.

That kind of change is a good thing. And it’s within everyone’s reach because of a vital public institution: the library.

If you want a better you, which is a small step to a better world, you know what to do. The library is the place to go.