I'm a bookaholic... and a bad library patron. But I'm ready to finally face my late fees

Originally published on January 6, 2020.

My name is Catherine Cole and I am a bookaholic. 

As a fast and voracious reader, I've always had a particular affection for libraries. I think of them as an oasis filled with shelves of possibility and escape. I love all libraries in general and the Huntsville, ON, Public Library specifically. And I would like the library to love me back.

I don't make this easy because I have a problem fulfilling my book-borrowing obligations.

There is an unspoken promise made when entering the library: I'll lend you my books and you'll return them — on time and basically in the same shape as they were given to you.

I have a hard time keeping that promise. I don't return books on time. It is not malicious; it is simply the maladjusted way my brain prioritizes my to-do list. 

As a late returner, I suffer from Library Shame: the terrible feeling that you've let yourself and your library down, that you're a criminal waiting to be exposed as the reprobate you know you are. If you instinctively find yourself nodding in agreement to these feelings, you're in my club.

The dark side of book love

In social situations, I bring up library habits to gauge where I sit on the scale of bad behaviour. There's a sliding scale of transgressions: from returning books late; to damaging books; to completely losing and never returning them. Each situation has its own associated emotional state: small twinges (of I've-got-to-get-this-book-back guilt); generalized anxiety ("Oh my god, I dropped it in the bathtub"); paralyzing fear and avoidance ("I think I sold the book in the garage sale").

My friend Sarah Spring and her son Shannan Pratt are a case in point. She and Shannan had borrowed a new, hard-cover children's book. But Shannan – then a toddler – took a bite out of the corner of the cover.

"It was one nibble and we had to buy the book!" said Sarah.

To avoid future expenses, Sarah taught her children to check the publishing dates of books they wanted to borrow, to ensure they were not new, so reasonable wear and tear could be expected. 

"I said to the kids, 'You know, we can't afford this. If you nibble on another book, it has to be an old book.'"

A confusing caveat

But what about the library? Do they ever get it wrong? 

My friend Christine Cain still remembers returning a Star Wars book with her 8-year-old son, Mitchell, two days before its due date. At the time, the library was closed. But our branch has an after hours book drop-off bin with a challenging disclaimer: USE DROP BOX AT YOUR OWN RISK. A few days later, Mitchell went in to borrow a book for a school project. The librarian checked her screen and told him he couldn't borrow anything until he returned the Star Wars book.

"I explained to her that we brought it back on Sunday. And the library was adamant that I did not return it," said Christine. "She proceeded to write in the computer that we are saying that we returned the book, but it has not been located in the library and that my son could not take out any other books until this was resolved." 

Even though they both remembered returning the book, Christine and Mitchell scoured the house for the lost book. She went back to the library the next day.

This time a different librarian quickly located the book on the return trolley. However, when Mitchell returned to check out another book, the original librarian told him that the Star Wars book had not been returned. 

"I thought I was going to lose my mind," said Christine. 

The point of no return?

I have to confess that in my own case, I can only blame myself for my slipshod library habits. It all came to a head for me over a number of library books that I had – you guessed it – sold in a garage sale. When I returned to the library years later, the books were a distant memory. But the Huntsville library's surprisingly efficient computer system hadn't forgotten. When checking out more books, the librarian announced that I had accumulated a $180 fine and I couldn't borrow again until it was paid. I felt mortified. It took years before I summoned up the courage to return and pay my bill.

I've discovered many of my contemporaries share this guilt.

My friend Sarah Downes moved back to Huntsville last year. She also had library issues. Sarah had been hoarding an overdue library book, Gluten Free on a Shoestring.

"I kept putting it off. Then we packed up the U-Haul and moved. And I never brought it back," said Sarah.

A few years and a few moves later, Sarah still hadn't returned the cookbook. 

"I'm way too scared to bring it back because I know that the fines are gonna be huge," she said. "I'm also worried that they've sent it to collections. It's easier for me just to look at it and have that shame, live with it, rather than actually facing my fears and going and dropping it off at the library."

I told Sarah about my own crime and subsequent liberation. Caught up in my enthusiasm, she decided to face her fears. Over the years of cooking, the book had become oil stained, worn, well-loved and Velvetine Rabbitted.

Sarah walked with me to the library and heart racing, entered the building. She approached the counter and confessed her crime.

"I'm here to return a very overdue library book that I took out in 2012. It's been with me for a long time," said Sarah. "It's also damaged. I'm sorry." 

The librarian, unperturbed, thanked Sarah for returning the book and checked on the computer. As it turned out, the loan was so long ago that the book was no longer in the system. And Sarah, no longer a member, had no overdue fines.

It was all a little anticlimactic.

The librarian promptly signed Sarah up for a new library card.

"It'll be like a fresh start," said Huntsville librarian Cortney LeGros. "You'll have a clean record and we won't tell anyone else that this happened."

Better late than never, right?

To hear the documentary, tap or click the Listen link at the top of the page.

About the Producer

Catherine Cole is the host of Food For Thought on Hunters Bay Radio, in Huntsville, Ont. She is Muskoka's health food guru and the owner of The Great Vine health food store. Catherine wears many hats: theatre director, performer and public speaker; she is passionate about creating community through meaningful connection. She believes the act of sharing our stories has the potential to break down barriers, overcome differences and create ties that bind. She is eternally hopeful, curious and grateful.

This documentary was produced by Alison Cook and made through the Doc Mentorship Program.