Save Our Libraries

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There has been a lot of talk on the Internet of late about plans in the UK to close many public libraries as their latest idea for saving money. Other people clearly feel the same way, if the #savelibraries hashtag on Twitter is anything to go by. Personally, I'm absolutely horrified at the idea - of all the things that the government pays for, libraries should be LAST on their list of things to cut.

But it's easy, isn't it? Snip a little here, snip a little there, and hope that all your small savings add up enough to take a chunk out of the overall deficit. Trouble is, in the end, it costs more money than it saves due to the losses incurred as a result of the cuts. As my dad says, it's like removing your doors to save on the cost of paint, while leaving your house wide open to burglars. Look at it any way you like, but the UK is a country with a colossal budget for foreign aid, yet we have children within its borders living below the poverty line - children who will lose their access to free information and the chance to expand their knowledge if the libraries are closed to save a few pounds.

In a country where education league tables are everything, where the Building Schools for the Future initiative has been halted and pupils are taught in crumbling relics of the 1960s, surely we should be preserving these last bastions of free knowledge. There was an outcry when the government proposed it would cut a service aimed at providing free books, and it relented, allowing the scheme to continue. Yet closing libraries denies access to free books on a much wider scale. Books aren't cheap to buy, but if you have access to a library, you have access to an entire world of literature, not to mention general knowledge. A library is warm, dry - and keeps a young person off the streets for the day.

In his foreword to Fahrenheit 451, author Ray Bradbury advocates the existence of libraries, since in the absence of a formal education, he taught himself the things he wanted to know in his local library. Who is to say that children all over the country aren't doing the exact same thing? Of course, they won't be able to, if there is nowhere for them to go. Libraries are often the only means some people have of accessing the Internet, and if the library goes, then you cut away the resources the Internet has to offer for those who cannot afford it in their own homes.

I'm lucky, I live in a London borough with six libraries, and only one is threatened with closure. The library in question is in a position where it may be saved, by being turned into a new community facility which would incorporate the Citizens Advice Bureau, family learning courses run by a local college, and even church youth work - hopefully, this proposal will meet with success. Mayor Boris Johnson has also announced plans to set up a trust to run those libraries unable to fund themselves - it's a pity the rest of his party cannot have the foresight to do the same on a national level.

I'm also lucky in that I can afford to buy books, and have the Internet at home. Many don't have this option, and it is on their behalf that I ask everyone to join in the campaign at their local library to ensure we keep these institutions going, for the good of everyone.

(Please read author Emma Newman's post on the same topic - she puts it across far better than me)

Friday Flash - The Kingmaker

Tweet I've put aside my usual forays into flash fiction to write this, The Kingmaker. It's in honour of the appalling debacle of British politics that has formed our 2010 General Election.

* * *

He sits on a sofa in a sunny corridor. He can feel himself sinking into the seat pad. He wonders how many have sat here before him, waited their turn, had such gut-wrenching decisions to make. He wrings his hands, something he has not done for several months.

"Are you nervous?" asks his assistant.

"Of course I'm nervous. I don't know what I'm doing," he replies.

He looks at the floor. He is ashamed because he does know what he's doing. He knows that what he is doing will make him unpopular. He also knows that it contradicts everything he has come to represent.

"He will see you now." An aide sticks her head into the corridor. He takes baby steps towards the doorway.

Sunlight fills the room, though nothing penetrates the air of gloomy resignation. The elder statesman sits behind his desk, his fingers wrapped in a lattice of flesh and bone. The dour atmosphere emanates from his baleful gaze.

"You've already backed the other party." The statesman omits a greeting.

"Yes, but-"

"You think that if you give them the chance to form a government, they will fail. In that situation, you can form a coalition with us."

"That's the idea, but-"

"You want to form a coalition with us anyway, but you're backing them because you want to appear fair. When they try, and they fail, you can look impartial. Though I should warn you that you've already lost supporters. The proles don't like it when you switch sides."

"Yes, but-"

"I accept your offer. We will form a coalition when the blues lose."

He squirms on the hard chair. The words that came so freely now stick in his throat. This has been easy, but it worries him that his motives appear so obvious.

"Don't take it so personally. I should thank you, really. People wanted to vote for you to keep them out, but they didn't think you stood a chance so they voted for us instead". The prime minister contorts his face into an approximation of a smile. He reaches his hand across the table.

"Welcome to politics."