Libraries have always been an important part of my life. When I was younger, going to the library was a regular occurrence for my family. Since we lived in New York City, there were a few of them that we would frequent and each one was special in its own right. The one closest to us had three floors and I remember climbing up and down those stairs to the different levels, each section brimming with books.
This was the first library I became familiar with and I can still picture it even though I haven’t been there in a very long time. One thing I’ll never forget is the feeling when a librarian guides you to the book you had inquired about, takes it off the shelf, and puts it in your hands. It’s a magical transaction, like being given a ticket to journey to another world.
The library of my teenage years was in a turn of the century Carnegie building and also the largest library in my borough. One time, I spent hours there with my father collecting data for a science project, something that would have taken a fraction of the time if the internet had existed, but it’s a happy memory that I would not have had if that were the case. When I was old enough, I went there by myself to work on research projects for school, looking for resources as I navigated the stacks.
I love a good dystopian novel as much as the next member of the target 18-25 year old female who reads upwards of 50 books per year demographic, but I’m also a skeptic. Frankly, it takes me a Golden-Gate-sized suspension of disbelief to buy some of these “kill all the kids” and “let’s all wear tunics” scenarios.
Yes, the government’s probably evil, but they’re also not that organized (I mean, just look at how long it takes them to crank out census data every decade. Do you really think they’re going to force everyone to Sorting-Hat themselves into Factions? Think of the paperwork!)
With that in mind, I’ve come up with some realistic, low-stakes dystopian situations for the near future. The next hit series could be here! But probably not!
A good poem, they say, trips off the tongue. What they don't say is what kind of shoes it's wearing to do so.
NEVER FEAR: in honor of National Poetry Month, we're playing Cinderella and pairing up the rhythmic units of meter with their appropriate poetic footwear. Every poetic foot (for example, the iamb, of Shakespearean pentameter fame: duh DUH) has its own stylistic flavor, and now it's got a stylish shoe to match.