While perusing images for this site, I came across some beautiful ones of libraries, and it reminded me how much I love them.

When I was young, six or seven years old, my mother used to take me to the local children’s library, which at the time was housed in a grand Victorian building. An impressive dark oak staircase, of the sort Victorians specialised in, led down to the large room, which contained many dark wood bookcases and long tables. There I would explore the plentiful offerings, excited to borrow the latest adventure which would take me to worlds of freedom and excitement. I’d enjoyed books from an early age, but I think it was in that library that my love for them – and the stories they contained – became a passion.

My secondary school was located in an old Elizabethan palace (one which had originally housed bishops rather than royalty) and the library was housed in a very grand room with a high vaulted ceiling, huge leaded windows and, of course, more dark wood shelves.  This was both a haven from unwelcome weather and a comfort in its timeless grandeur. My love affair with libraries continued.

The last time I was to spend lengthy periods of time sitting in a library was at university, where my college library was only a couple of minutes walk from my room, but gave the distance from distraction necessary for someone of my undisciplined nature. Indeed, just walking into it gave me something of a feeling of accomplishment – I’d actually managed to move myself somewhere the chances of being productive increased significantly. It was generally easy enough to get a table to oneself to spread out and be comfortable, with a few books open at once for that added sense of accomplishment. And of course the sensation of being surrounded by books is always something to be cherished.

Over the years, I built a sizeable library of my own, with lots of lovely books (mostly) properly arranged in ‘Billy’s courtesy of Ikea. Too many books had to be moved into storage boxes from time to time as my collection grew, and the rate of that growth has slowed considerably as I’ve been unable to resist the convenience of the Kindle. But it remains an ambition to have a house large enough to have a whole room to house books and properly be called ‘the library’ (in a Georgian house in the country would be just perfect). It also remains a constant source of regret that I’ll never have the time to read all the books I’d like to during this lifetime.

Writing this article, though, has me thinking it would be lovely to visit as many of the world’s great libraries as possible. Is there any space more simultaneously comforting and awe-inspiring as a beautiful library? Do you have a favourite library? I love it if you’d let me know in the comments.