Folio is a private library in Seattle, and on Saturday they had a “quiet reading time,” allowing plebeians like me inside. It was free, and no speeches or activities were planned — just come in and read.
They had me at free, but I wasn’t sure what to expect. I’d been barely aware of Folio, and assumed it would be a snooty place
for snoots.
It’s downtown, a flight of stairs up from Pike Place Market, and I’d forgotten that the Market is swarmed with tourists whenever it’s sunny out. Well, it was sunny and swarmed. There was only standing and waiting, no walking on the walkway, but I softly shoulder-shoved my way through the throngs and found the stairway up. After a few wrong turns I was at the door to Folio.
Walking in, the first vibe is oak paneling and books, like you’ve stepped into Montgomery Burns’ mansion. And of course, I was wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants, which is pretty much my wardrobe. Before I could feel out of place, though, a lady introduced herself, “Hi, I’m Caroline,” and showed me the brief basics of Folio.
It’s three large rooms with books and bookshelves on every wall, chairs that are sorta swanky but soft, and desks and tables and lamps. “And here’s the coffee pot,” she said nicely, making me feel like a guest, not an intruder.
Then she left me alone, giving me space to wander the place. I strolled along the shelves, and looked out the window. There’s a lovely view of Elliott Bay, and other windows overlook a vibrant interior food court, where several casual restaurants share tables and chairs.
In addition to all the books, there’s a table with a chess set. I love chess, but was too shy to ask anyone to play. Plus, I’m not very good at the game.
There’s a newspaper table, with a week’s worth of New York Times that have been read but neatly arrayed. I always enjoyed reading newspapers on paper, in the ancient pre-internet era.
There’s a magazine table, with only a few subscriptions, but they’re the ones I’d appreciate — The New Yorker, and the London Review of Books, and a few more magazines, but no Golf Digest or Sports Illustrated (and hooray for that).
It was momentarily startling to notice a big-screen TV on one of the walls, but it wasn’t on, and there’s a podium beside it. The screen is for presentations and author nights, etc, not for watching football or Fox News.
Actually, while nothing seems explicitly political about the place, and I spotted a biography of Condoleezza Rice, I don’t think anything at Folio would appeal to the MAGA crowd.
For one thing, there are books, and they hate that. For another, one of Folio’s upcoming events is called “The Human Library,” and seems utterly mind-blowing. They bring in ten people, all interesting in some way (a pacifist who’s married to a soldier, a bank robber who spent two decades in prison, a disabled pole dancer, a busker from the corner, etc), and each of them gives a brief talk at the podium. After that they’re each available to be “checked out” like books, for conversations at one of the tables.
What made me go “Huh” is that none of the ten are successful executives or millionaire real estate agents. They’re all weirdos like me, like everyone I like, and despite my non-stop introversion I think I’d want to be there that night, and talk with all ten of them.
Surrounded by thousands of books at Folio, I started by reading the New York Times, or trying to. Idiot me, I’d forgotten to bring my glasses for “reading day,” so the reading went slow and left me guessing at the longer words.
Next I surveyed the shelves in all three rooms. Lots of highbrow literature by “the greats” I’ve mostly never read but always kinda wanted to, with plenty of present-day fiction, too, and biographies of people who deserve one, and poetry, and art, and ooh, graphic novels. Some high-quality time could be passed here, just reading…
In a comfortable chair, I spent an hour with a graphic novel I’d pulled from the shelf, Can’t We Talk about Something More Pleasant?, by Roz Chast. The book is great and funny, with lettering big enough to read with a minimum of squinting, even without my glasses.
And jeez, it was a wonderful afternoon. Probably I was the poorest person in the facility, that day or maybe ever, but neither the books nor the people seemed to hold my poverty, ratty clothes, or generally dumpy appearance against me.
Saturday was a special event, with Folio open to the general public, so I expected to be pressured to join, but there was none of that either. Caroline was available when I had questions (Where’s the restroom?) but she never pounced with a pitch.
A man came in with a cup of coffee, for himself not for me, and he smiled but said nothing as he sat at a table and set up his laptop for quiet click-clicking.
None of the other patrons had anything to say to me either, but it wasn’t a rude silence. They’d come to read (or listen; one guy was wearing headphones), not to make chit-chat, and anyway, it’s a library.
That’s when I belatedly noticed the finest feature of Folio — it’s quiet in there. No children stomped or hollered, no teenagers snickered or swore, nobody conversed above a whisper. I have never been in any library so quiet, and didn’t know libraries so quiet existed. The only sound was the occasional rustling of pages, the gentle clacking of coffee man’s keyboard, and the low hum of air conditioning that dried my sweat despite it being 95° outside.
I slowly walked the premises again, more and more liking what I saw — quiet people in a quiet space. I’d been there less than two hours, and already felt more at home than I feel at home.
There was no way I’d leave Folio without knowing I was coming back, so I approached Caroline a third time, to join as a member.
She answered a few more of my questions, including which of the restaurants at the Market are good but also affordable. She gave me her card, which says she’s Executive Director, even though I’d seen her emptying trash and recycling-bins. First time I’ve seen an executive do real work like that, instead of delegating it.
Membership at Folio is $150 for a year, with no senior discount, and for this senioe citizen that’s a lot of money. But having been there just once, a quiet space in the heart of the city is not a luxury. It’s a necessity.
7/22/2024
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