The Kids Are All Right: An Intergenerational Tale of Living and Loving YA Fiction
Two libraries were a big part of my tween years. The first was tidy, organised, and strictly monitored. It was roomy and bright with short wooden bookshelves, many of which were kept locked due to the apparent inappropriateness of the books they held. I visited it once a week during Library period, and more often than not, got into trouble with the librarian at my convent school in Chennai for talking too loudly and having a good time. The second — Senthil Lending Library near my parent’s home — was quite different. A narrow dark room, it had tall open steel bookshelves flanked by many a swirling dust ball. The stacking of the books was chaotic at best, but the librarian knew his way around. He was a nice sort, never bothered by noise as long as the books were returned on or before the due...