2 days ago
The Bookless Club: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood?
Vancouver has 22 civic libraries. Victoria has 12. The streets of these two cities, however, have well over 1,000 unincorporated 'little libraries'. You've seen them, of course. Those quaint little bird-house structures, placed along sidewalks, usually with a glassed-in front to keep the contents safe from the elements. Inside these little boxes there is always the oddest selection of books, and almost always something that will pique your interest.
Victoria, in particular, seems to have taken to this citizen book exchange idea in a big way. I was recently in that city and took dozens of photos of these creative little structures. Clearly, it's not enough to just stick a box on a post — you've got to bring some imagination to the task … and certainly some carpentry skills, too. Many of these mini lending libraries are made to replicate the exterior of the houses they sit in front of. Some take their inspiration from literature itself — say, a Hogwarts theme, or Tara from Gone With The Wind. I lost count of the number of little libraries, but Greater Victoria Place-Making Network shows a map of their LFL — Little Free Libraries — and the unofficial count is in the range of 1,000. The network even offers a LFL Bingo card where the task is to find things such as a Danielle Steele novel, anything in French, a textbook, or a LFL made from old furniture.
None of this existed at the turn of the century. The LFL movement began in 2009 in Wisconsin, as a son's tribute to a book-loving mom. Todd Bol's mother was a teacher. When she died, he built a model of a one-room schoolhouse and filled it with books, then put it up on his front lawn. The lending principle was, 'Take a book. Leave a book.' People loved his little lending library, so he made several and gave them away to friends and family.
Shortly thereafter, a professor from the University of Wisconsin saw an LFL and contacted Bol, suggesting that they expand the idea. They took as their inspiration Andrew Carnegie, the Scottish philanthropist who set out to create over 2,500 free libraries for the English-speaking world. The goal of the LFL was to match the number of Carnegie's libraries by the end of 2013. Well, by early 2012, Bol's humble project leapt well beyond that target, a year and a half ahead of plan.
The Little Free Library idea grew into a global movement. Bol would die in 2018 from pancreatic cancer, but not before the organization he created celebrated the landmark 75,000th Little Free Library. Shortly before his death, he restated the mission behind his novel idea: 'I really believe in a Little Free Library on every block, and a book in every hand. I believe people can fix their neighbourhoods, fix their communities, develop systems of sharing, learn from each other, and see that they have a better place on this planet to live.'
So, that's the back story behind those darling little houses you see perched on posts on sidewalks … and isn't it grand?
Jane Macdougall is a freelance writer and former National Post columnist who lives in Vancouver. She writes The Bookless Club every Saturday online and in The Vancouver Sun. For more of what Jane's up to, check out her website,
Question: Do you have a Little Free Library in your neighbourhood? What's the story behind it?
Send your answers by email text, not an attachment, in 100 words or less, along with your full name to Jane at
thebooklessclub@
. We will print some next week in this space.
Question: What were the backyard games in your neighbourhood?
• In my childhood in Tehran we played a game called Donkey. It was a little complicated, but you needed two teams, and one side would back up blindly and the other side would jump on their backs. Part of the fun was that you would have to hold the other person up for as long as you could. It was so very much fun.
Valentin Yersian
• Our game was called Relievo. It was a take on Hide And Seek. You could sneak up unseen and tag the power pole home base to relieve those already caught. This went on in the back alley and on the hill behind our houses for hours. Great fun for neighbourhood kids of any age.
Joan Kowalenko
• This game starts with two people. It can be more, but you only need two to make it work. Each person gathers 10 rocks. One person says to the other, 'I'm going to guess how many rocks you have in your hand.' The other person can put one, none or 10 in their hand, but the person has to guess the amount. If they are right, they get the rocks. If they're wrong, they have to give the other person the amount that they were wrong by. The winner of the game is who ends up with 20 rocks. If playing with more people, when you run out of rocks, you're out of the game.
This game was started at the beach by my mother who was trying to teach three little girls counting and patience. I now play it at the lake in Nakusp with my grandchildren, who all loved it.
Judy Toffolo
• My best friend, Gilles, and I were the oldest kids on our block. When our large group of young children gathered together, we had to keep the little ones entertained. It was a challenge to keep them from getting bored, so we put on plays. I had a patio on the back of our house that doubled as an outdoor theatre. Admission to our plays was one clothespin. Once we got over the quarrels over who was going to be in the play and who would be the audience, we began. The young ones' favourites were our comedies, especially the two carpenters. Gilles and I played inept carpenters who would keep messing up our projects. My mother had to step in and halt the play when I swung a two-by-four, narrowly missing Gilles every time.
E. Drieling
• Yes, Red Rover was lots of fun because all different ages could play together, although us littler kids would sometimes get knocked about. Same goes for Tag, or Hide And Seek. The girls used to do a lot of rope skipping (Double Dutch!) and have Dolly Tea Parties. We boys spent many summer hours playing at Livestock Management Technicians and Indigenous Warriors. Sometimes we would hop on our bikes and raid the tea parties if there were cookies to be had. And lots of exploring on our bikes — neither mom nor grandma seemed obsessed with knowing my whereabouts, as long as I turned up on time for lunch and dinner.
Bruno Bandiera
• Red River Rover. We call such and such over. That's what we sang in Kamloops around 1955 or so. Besides, 'Red Rover, Red Rover' just doesn't have a sing-song quality. Other games we played were marbles, skipping, jacks, and civil war, plus Pigs and Wolf — my favourite.
Sheila Humphrey
• Growing up in East Van, no one seemed to mind that we played '500' or 'Cherry' with a baseball bat and ball, hockey with a tennis ball and our coats as goals, or 'Yards', throwing or kicking a football, 'Kick the Can' and 'Night Tag' on 30th Avenue by Fraser St. No one shouted at us to get out of their yard or not hit their parked car or to keep it down. I recall getting trapped on a neighbour's back porch while playing tag one evening, so I simply opened the back door and proceeded to walk through the main floor of the house. 'Hi, Mr. Holmes. Hello, Mrs. Holmes' as they watched TV, and then I skedaddled out their front door. Times were much simpler in the late-1960s.
Dirk van Renesse
