Little Free Library: The Hippie Spirit Is Alive And Well In Madison, WI

You know those hippie communes? The ones where everybody shares food, books, clothing, etc?  This week I walked past a little piece of leftover hippie communal spirit in Madison, Wisconsin.

It’s called Little Free Library. It’s a nondescript little birdhouse-looking thing on a sidewalk by a church. Only it’s not a birdhouse. It’s full of books.

I happen upon it while walking with one of my friends. I do one of those, stop- double take-what-the-heck?!!?!’s. My friend says:

“Oh yeah, you’ve never seen one of those? It’s like a mini-library.”

“How does it…work?” I ask.

“People take books and bring ‘em back when they’re done.”

“Don’t they get stolen?” I ask.

“Naw, it’s an honor system. You don’t steal from Little Free Library.”

I honestly couldn’t tell if that last comment was inspiring or naive, but in a sense it doesn’t matter. Someone somewhere believed enough in the idea that anyone who wants a book should have one; the idea carried enough clout for them to build a non-birdhouse library in which to house free books. I sat in front of bookhouse wondering, “There are still people like that?”

It got me thinking about what books I’d want to put into the bookhouse. Ones that have something that I think is worth sharing with someone I might never meet. Here’s what I’ve got so far:

Pilgrim at Tinker Creek by Annie Dillard. Because it taught me that looking at a paw print and seeing something sacred wasn’t completely nuts.

Ender’s Game by Orson Scott Card. It’s the only book I’ve read with a hero who is compelling because of his aversion to heroism.

Bird by Bird by Anne Lamott, which teaches that wondrous things can come out of Sh***y First Drafts. 

Short Talks by Anne Carson. It’s a book of poetry that I was actually able to finish.

Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close by Jonathan Safran Foer, because it broke my heart.

The Clean House by Sarah Ruhl. Because characters learn to like things messy.