Ciera Burch is the author of the middle grade novels Finch House and Camp Twisted Pine. In her forthcoming novel, Olivia Gray Will Not Fade Away, a seventh grader who is experiencing shifting friendships and pressures around dating struggles with feeling invisible—literally. Here, Burch pays tribute to the librarians who offered her a safe space as a young person and the knowledge that she was fully seen.
In seventh grade, the library was my refuge. I was at a brand-new school in a brand-new town where I knew no one and, it seemed, no one wanted to get to know me. So, I comforted myself with the things that had always comforted me: books. And in my search for books, then as throughout the rest of my life, I found librarians.
One of the librarians, whose name I’m saddened I can’t remember, was the first person to see me. She recognized in me my loneliness and depression and gave me the best gift she could have: access to the teacher’s section of the library. Though we didn’t talk much, the sheer recognition that she provided me—knowledge that I was visible to her in a way I wasn’t to my peers and that she noticed how comforting books were to me—was a gift in and of itself that I’ve never forgotten.
As important as books, and the things they provide, are to children, so too are the people who get those books into their hands. Librarians are consistently on the front lines of book banning or attempts to divest their libraries of important histories and the diversity of the real world. They are champions not only for kid lit but for the kids themselves.
In a world that feels like it exists increasingly more online than in real life, libraries are safe spaces. They are places where everyone can go for some sense of safety or normality or comfort, that missing third space between the routine of home and school. At libraries, you can get help with your homework. You can attend a story time or book event. You have access to a computer. You can find a quiet, relaxing place to just be for hours at a time.
And, of course, you have librarians.
In my book, Olivia Gray Will Not Fade Away, Olivia’s librarians, first Mrs. Cassidy and then Ms. Amelia, are pivotal people in her life. It’s with them that she shares her art, something dear that she usually keeps to herself, and her worries and her fears. Ms. Amelia’s presence throughout the book frequently bolsters Olivia in some of her most difficult moments. Not only does Olivia find refuge in the library’s physical space, but in the warmth and openness that Ms. Amelia provides. Her presence, attentiveness, care, and book recommendations allow Olivia the space and time to navigate her identity and some of the loneliness that stems from it. It allows her to see that while she may not be able to relate to her peers, or her peers to her, there are still people in her life, and in the world, who are like her, who see her, and care about her.
It doesn’t end in middle school, either. One of my high school librarians, Mrs. Funaro, was, for all intents and purposes, my friend. She was a listening ear when I was stressed over college applications, let me live out my librarian dreams as her aide after school, and even gave me a pass or two on those mornings when I was running a little late and wanted to avoid the office.
Librarians don’t have magic wands or that one perfect book that will cure anything that ails you, but they, and the libraries they care for, are still a type of magic. They can help you find fantastical worlds and introduce you to books with new perspectives or cultures you might never have known about. They can fight for your freedom to read and offer safe spaces to those quiet kids who need somewhere to be when they can’t stand to be in the cafeteria.
There is, and always will be, a large part of me that perks up whenever I’m in the library and in the presence of a librarian, a bit of star-struckness that I hope never fades. And, of course, there’s an endless amount of gratitude from my young self, my present self, and every version of future me.
Olivia Gray Will Not Fade Away by Ciera Burch. McElderry, $17.99 Mar. 17 ISBN 978-1-6659-7262-8
