What's your library journey?

 Last month I had the pleasure of attending the official launch of the Libraries Alliance at The British Academy, a partnership ‘working to strengthen and champion libraries of all kinds’ spanning public, school, academic, independent and national libraries. The event included a rather inspiring video ‘Libraries Through Life’  and, although I was there with my school librarian hat on, it got me thinking about my personal library journey. 

I grew up in London, my local public library was Sands End in Wandsworth Bridge Road, about 5 minutes’ walk away. It was above the public baths and I can remember going every week on my own, from around the age of 10 years, spending hours inside, browsing and reading. If I selected more books than I could borrow, I’d simply read the extra ones in the library. Sadly, the library is no longer there; the nearest one is Fulham Library, about 30 minutes away. I suspect if this had been my ‘local’ library, my reading would probably have been a bit curtailed as a child. Local libraries really do need to be LOCAL!  A large library in the centre of town cannot take the place of numerous small libraries serving outlying communities. 

I have no recollection of my primary school library (though I do remember being sent home with those dire Janet and John books) but can recall my secondary school library; tall shelves, wooden desks, everyone speaking in hushed voices. And it would get very hot and stuffy in the summer. I don’t think I used it much – we didn’t have library lessons or events. My reading needs (including books for homework) were still being fulfilled by the public library especially as, by this time, I was visiting my grandmother once a week after school and she, very conveniently, lived round the corner from Fulham Library. Also, my father, who was the reading influence in my life, was passing on the classic sci-fi and fantasy books he’d finished with. I, in turn, was bringing home graphic novels (including Tintin books) from the library and passing them to him to read.

My next library memory should be associated with university and my business degree but my mind’s a blank. When I took my distance-learning LIS degree (years later) I was thrilled by the library at Aberystwyth and made good use of the inter-library loan service but, sadly, this was not the case as a young adult. Sorry, University of Westminster, it wasn’t personal – there were just too many other exciting distractions in my life at the time. I also wonder, given the lack of interaction with my school library, did this make any difference? Would I have made more use of the university library if I’d had lessons in my school library, learned how to find resources I needed, how the school librarian could have helped me look for them? Perhaps we need some research on the correlation between school library use and university library use – there’s certainly enough evidence that indicates school library use improves attainment.   

Moving into the world of work, I found myself employed as a project manager for a consultancy firm and being set various information-finding tasks; one I remember was regarding the numbers and types of engineers in the oil and gas industry. It was at this point I discovered special libraries – namely at the Institute of Petroleum Engineers. I had no idea such libraries existed! I’d also started doing family history research so spent several hours buried in archives. Today much of this is done online but in the late 1970s and early 1980s we didn’t even have the internet. Those hours spent looking at parish registers, trying to decipher handwriting, delighting in finding a link to another family branch and the smell of musty books - online searching is way more convenient but it’s not quite the same. 

And then I found myself working in a school library … 

I’m not sure why nobody suggested I become a librarian when I was at school, especially given my love of reading and obsession with books. Although, if I’m being honest, I don’t think I’d have been the same librarian if I’d gone into the profession when I was younger. 

And my library journey continues: Public Þ School Þ Academic Þ Special Þ School Þ Public 

Today I use my public library more than I ever did – I regularly visit about five ‘local’ libraries (so convenient being able to return books to any library in the county) – as I don’t tend to reread books it’s far less costly to borrow them. As part of the CILIP School Libraries Group I’m still very much involved in school libraries and, as a CILIP member, I take advantage, when I can, of visits to special libraries and talks by professionals in other sectors. And, when I’m travelling, the library gets added along with museums and galleries to my ‘want-to-see’ list; my fascination with books and libraries is still going strong.

What’s your library journey? Has it gone full circle or do you no longer visit public libraries? I’m surprised by the number of people I meet, who love books and are readers, yet they say they’ve not been to a library in years. If this is you … please go, our public libraries need you! 

 ‘To ask why we need libraries at all, when there is so much information available elsewhere, is about as sensible as asking if roadmaps are necessary now that there are so very many roads.’

Jon Bing (1944-2014)
Norwegian writer and law professor at the Norwegian Research Center for Computers and Law

Beyond One Book: the wider impact of school library censorship

 As part of the recent CILIP Members’ Fest, I was asked to take part in a panel discussion for the Midlands Member Network, speaking about an issue I was working on within my sector – school librarianship. There were several possibilities I could have chosen; the deprofessionalisation of school library staff, the lack of statutory requirements for school libraries or the widespread public misconceptions about the role and impact of school libraries. In the end, I chose to focus on book banning and censorship – an issue that relatively few other library sectors encounter so directly, yet one that is becoming an increasing concern within school libraries.

A couple of weeks later I was delivering training to a group from LIPSEE (Librarians in Prep Schools) on this same topic. The session included a practical, hands-on exercise on writing a Collection Development Policy and establishing a clear procedure for responding to concerns about books. Coincidentally, during the morning an article about book banning in a Manchester school was published by Index on Censorship. This was not news to me; the CILIP School Libraries Group (SLG - of which I am currently Vice Chair and Treasurer) is supporting the librarian involved and we were aware she had chosen to go public – albeit anonymously and without naming the school. 

I’ve delivered similar training before, both via webinars and in-person, and the reactions have been mixed. Some attendees have embraced the process enthusiastically, drafting policies, securing approval and publishing them on their school websites. Others, however, have been more hesitant. I have heard comments such as, ‘this policy isn’t statutory so we don’t need one’ yet many schools maintain policies that are not statutory - homework and uniform polices, for example, - and no one suggests these are unnecessary.  Occasionally there has even been a reluctance to make a policy public with concerns that doing so might give parents ideas about challenging books. Yet, having a policy that requires parents to read the book in question and clearly outline their specific concerns, alongside a transparent process for reviewing challenges, may in fact discourage some from taking the matter further. 

During the training session I read the article aloud and the collective response in the room was one of shock and concern, with a clear recognition that any one of the librarians present could find themselves in a similar position. I suspect that for quite a few of them, writing or updating a collection development policy has now moved significantly higher up their to-do list.

School libraries hold curated collections by necessity; we simply don’t have the budgets, space or  purpose to purchase and retain every book that is published. Nor should we - school libraries are not archives, they contain dynamic, responsive collections that evolve over time with their holdings reflecting the interests of the students, the requirements of the current curriculum and wider trends in genres, authors and formats. At the same time, materials are selected with careful consideration of students’ reading levels, emotional maturity and age. For that reason, you are unlikely to find an A Level Chemistry textbook in a primary school library, just as you would not expect to see a novel by Louise O’Neill on the shelves of a Key Stage 1 reading corner.

Anyone who has been following the wave of book bans in the United States, or who has seen the recent documentary film, The Librarians, will recognise how serious the situation has become. PEN America has tracked 6870 book bans in the 2024-2025 school year alone and has documented nearly 23.000 bans in US schools since 2021, the majority with themes of identity, race and sexuality. While there is currently no official centralised list tracking challenges in the UK, the cases that have been reported follow very similar patterns and it is increasingly clear that such challenges are becoming more frequent. 

At first glance, book challenges may appear to only affect individual titles within individual school libraries – after all, what difference does the removal of one book make in a collection of 12,000 items? In reality, the implications extend beyond a single title and affect students academically, socially and emotionally. They also raise fundamental questions about authority and representation: who decides what’s appropriate for young people to read, and why should the views of a single parent determine what’s available to every student in the school? Those 23,000 book bans – 72% are from organised movements including pressure groups and government entities wanting to exert influence and control over education.

Research consistently shows that choice and representation play a significant role in increasing reading frequency and comprehension. When students see themselves reflected in books they are more likely to read frequently and with greater understanding. Reducing the range of books available therefore risks undermining motivation and engagement with reading altogether. Removing all of a type of book, for example, books featuring LGBTQ+ characters, not only reduces representation but risks breaching the Equality Act 2010. More importantly,  it sends a message to the school community that LGBTQ+ students are somehow unwelcome or invisible, which can contribute to feelings of marginalisation and isolation. The same would be true if books featuring Muslim characters or other minority groups were systematically removed.

Restricting access to books also reduces opportunities for students to encounter diverse perspectives and viewpoints; exposure to different ideas and experiences is a key component of developing empathy, cultural awareness and what we often refer to as cultural capital. Limiting what students can read therefore has broader educational implications; it constrains intellectual freedom, weakens critical thinking and narrows access to information at precisely the stage when young people are learning to engage with the wider world.

The removal of books from school libraries sets a powerful and troubling precedent. It normalises the idea that restricting access to reading material is an acceptable response to discomfort or disagreement, gradually shifting expectations about what constitutes ‘appropriate’ content – a judgement that is, by its very nature, subjective. At the same time, it challenges the professional expertise of librarians, undermining their role as trained specialists in selecting and managing collections. Libraries themselves are reframed in the process: instead of being recognised as valued, safe spaces for exploration and learning, they begin to be seen as sites of controversy, risk or liability.

This narrative shift has wider consequences. It shapes the way decision makers talk about libraries, influences attitudes towards funding, erodes public trust and invites greater scrutiny from those who may not fully understand the purpose and practice of librarianship.

The effects also ripple far beyond the removal of a single title:

• Librarians begin to self-censor their collections for fear of complaints or repercussions

• Teachers become more cautious about the books they share and the discussions they facilitate in the classroom 

• Reading lists and set texts - including those studied for exams - become narrower and less representative

• Authors and illustrators feel pressure to ‘play it safe’ when writing for children and young people

• Publishers may hesitate to commission or promote books they believe are likely to attract challenges or bans

In this way, censorship is not an abstract concept or isolated incident. It reshapes the cultural and educational landscape in which all libraries operate - school, academic and public alike. Each removed book quietly redraws the boundaries of what can be read, discussed and imagined. And if those boundaries continue to shrink, it is not just individual titles that disappear from shelves but the diversity of voices, experiences and ideas that libraries exist to protect.