I Grew Up In Libraries

On learning how to read

Siobhan O'Connor
3 min readOct 23, 2020
This is pretty, but it is not how you shelve books. Image by Ria Puskas for Unsplash

Before she got her Master’s in children’s literature, my mother was a reference librarian at a public library in Montreal where her job was to be the internet before the internet. People would call the desk and ask her a question, and she would walk the aisles to find the book or the periodical with the answer. “What time is it in Newfoundland?” “What is the difference between an alligator and a crocodile?” “What is a p value in research?” I’d often go to work with her on Sundays. I was free to roam around by myself, and there was a cafeteria with snacks, which is all kids really want — a sense of independence in a well-lit place, and snacks.

Before he retired, my father was a philosophy professor. I went to libraries with him too. Unlike my mother’s modern bungalow set back on a patch of grass, my father’s library was a stone building, dimly lit with dark wood and tall shelves stacked with solid-colored spines. I went to this library less frequently. I remember looking up at the books piled so high you’d need a ladder and thinking to myself, “One day I will read every single book in the world.

I have never taken my son to a library. He was two when the pandemic hit, and he was loud before that (he is still loud), so it’s on my to-do-later list. But our apartment is full of books. Art books, picture books…

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Siobhan O'Connor

I write and edit, usually in that order. Priors: VP, Editorial @Medium, exec editor at TIME, exec editor at Prevention, features at GOOD magazine etc.