Covid Kills Books, Too

When Wickstrom was a child, she had open access to vast shelves of books at her local libraries. Her favorite multistoried library filled an entire block. It was open from 6 a.m. until at least 10 p.m. Even though she frequently browsed the shelves before school and after work, she felt she would never come to the end of it. And new books appeared all the time. No matter where she wandered down aisles and into alcoves, books on topics she'd never thought about demanded to come home with her, called out to be read. Books seemed to jump off the shelves into her hands or summoned her from distant racks. She read about everything from deep-sea pearl diving to the invention of the Dvorak keyboard. One particular librarian at the Hill Street Branch liked to tell her about books she enjoyed. She had the feeling she'd read every book in her branch of the library. She even convinced her to try holding her breath underwater, like the deep-sea pearl divers.