A recent survey in the US found that Gen Z-ers and Millennials(千禧一代) visit libraries more often than their parents or grandparents. The young love libraries because they are secure, comfortable, free and—as my 11-year-old would say—"aesthetic". This means they look good in the background of an Instagram post or TikTok video. Libraries are also a great place to meet people. If you're both young and in a library, chances are that you have similar interests.
And then, too, there are the books. Gen Z-ers are turning out to be big readers, especially of paper books. Even though they have smartphones, the most limitlessly distracting devices ever invented, in their pockets, many are deliberately choosing to pick up a piece of 15th-century technology instead. They like the fact that books are self-contained and require concentration.
There is, sometimes, a sense of nostalgic(怀旧的) cosplay in the way young people read. In New York, for example, the latest TikTok-fuelled craze is reading with strangers in bars. You have to buy a ticket in advance, and then you all gather and sit in silence for 30 minutes, reading whatever book you've brought along. Like an expensive version of going to the library, except that afterwards you all have a drink and talk about books.
The very thought of it makes me suffer, but that's because I'm a child of the 1970s and 1980s. To me, reading is a private pleasure, while screens—TV or cinema—are social. I did once, in a fit of ambitious parenting, introduce a"family reading hour", during which my husband and children were pressed to join me at the fireside for some silent reading. It could not have felt more performative if we had dressed up in top hats and crinolines(旧时的裙衬).But still, I applaud these young readers—for knowing what is good for them, for seeking out human connection, for finding the beauty and pleasure in old institutions, and for bringing new life to the library.
