Libraries carry the past forward to the present and into the future. The knowledge and truth stored safely from the Library of Alexandria through to the likes of Wikipedia and The Internet Archive, and all libraries, are the creations of our minds and those looking to control the narratives of history are oft times fearful. It is not that long ago that the burning of books took over from the burning of witches. The concept of an open and accessible library is an ancient democratic idea, and for the destruction of democracy access to knowledge and art must be curtailed.

How much of a surprise was it then when on May 8th Carla Hayden received an email from the White House’s Presidential Personnel Office.

“Carla, On behalf of President Donald J. Trump, I am writing to inform you that your position as the Librarian of Congress is terminated effective immediately. Thank you for your service.” A spokesperson for the Library of Congress confirmed that the White House told Hayden she was dismissed. The reason given by the White House press secretary, Caroline Leavitt, was that Hayden ‘did not fit the needs of the American People’. Leavitt, a young and ambitious Republican, reminds me too much of Reese Witherspoon’s character in Alexander Payne’s 1999 film Election which follows Tracy Flick in her race for high school president in Omaha, Nebraska. Leavitt comes from New Hampshire and, like Tracy Flick, she too has learnt to use the media, adjusting her facts to suit a hoped-for narrative. Fact-checking at The Library of Congress is not likely to happen soon, for a culture war has begun and the Library of Congress, along with National Public Radio and other media are making fine early targets.

The Library of Congress was founded in 1800 and during the 1812 war burned by British troops. But precious documents had been saved and after the war ended, past-president Thomas Jefferson gave his own library to help restock all that was destroyed by the British on the condition that the library was to be free and accessible to all, sharing knowledge of the diversity and culture that already made up America. His library held copies of the Quran and Hebrew Bible which exposed Jefferson’s beliefs in the freedom of religions which was not then – as is not now – despite the pledge of allegiance – a universally-accepted truth in America. With the firing of Hayden this month we have a return to that history.

At the moment there is a stand-off in which the Library Staff and their legal counsel have refused admittance to the President’s team without congressional approval. We hold our collective breath as the lasso circles around the Kennedy Center, National Public Radio, and libraries large and small.

In spring and autumn, this little community of Primrose Hill holds a festival of self. The main street is closed off. Vans are parked and stalls pitched on both sides of the road. Food stalls bring ethnic foods from all corners of London, hand-made boutique gifts are laid out under twinkling light, bright colored clothes hang high, swaying in the sunny breeze. Big ferris wheels and spinning teacups twirl around, flinging children up into the air with screams of delighted fear.

And after all that excitement almost everyone is in need of a bathroom, a cup of hot builder’s tea, cookies and a book. Then they pour into the library – which is strung with ancient bunting – which offers –  cheaper than anywhere else – all of the above in their biannual Cake and Book sale.  

For weeks leading up to this event, the library kitchen has been storing donated books. Like any community organization the kitchen becomes the store room – or the store room becomes the kitchen. We can hardly get in to haul out the books and begin sorting them into categories: history, fiction, non-fiction, biography, art, cookery, travel, children’s, philosophy, poetry and all else. Are there enough books to make plays and short stories a category? It’s a delightful dilemma. The days before the sale sees volunteers sorting, sifting books into crates with the aforementioned categories. On Saturday we admit partial failure, but on Sunday the full crates of books get hoisted onto the tables and, as the doors open and the first cups of tea are poured, we begin again in earnest. Every book is second-hand and priced at £1 except for the large and colorful cook-books, the only ones that are £2. They are interesting to wonder about. Which ones have been outgrown, or the families have developed other tastes. What is the story behind this almost perfect copy of ‘The Joy of  Cooking’? Was there an illness in the family, was it given as a wedding present by a very old-fashioned aunt or did a divorce tear the fabric of that relationship before the first casserole came out of the oven?

Titles spring out, surprising, delighting and amazing us. A leather-bound copy of Mao’s Little Red Book, is tucked into self-help. There are two almost new copies of both Barack and Michelle Obama’s autobiographies. Obviously readable but a one-night stand and not save-able to take up so much space on the bookshelf.

People come in – in waves – and we watch who comes and what books they choose. An early-bird Muslim woman combs through the boxes. She picks out seven books, one on the destruction of Palestine and I slip out, “Oh good one” before offering to find her an old bag in the kitchen. I tote up her spendings, £1 a piece – that’s £7- “I want to make a donation to the library she says. “£3 to bring it to 10?” I ask. “No £50” she replies and I wonder at the price of, and gratitude for, kindness. Later another woman has ‘The Art of the Deal’ in her collection and I wonder out loud again (when will I learn to be quiet) “You’re buying that?” “I want to understand more.“ she replies. I pray for her compassion as I ask her if she has seen ‘The Apprentice’ film. ‘No’ she replies “But I will look for it after reading this.”

It’s a wonderful mixed crowd drawn from the community and beyond. A single gentleman spends at least an hour circling the crates before choosing one book. £1 changes hands and he disappears back into the crowd. But he just went to the cake stall for a cup of tea, a piece of cake and a sit-down at the round table. Half an hour later, refreshed, he is back and buys four more books. It is a good day for him. There are several single visitors, using this day, this time to be among other people – a kind of friendly cafe without any obligations – cozy and safe from the carnival atmosphere outside and the world beyond.

There are two lower tables filled with books for children, all within easy reach of little hands. Parents lean over too, choosing this or that book. A family comes bouncing in and the sisters pounce on two collections. “Daddy Please?” and their father is so happy that they want books he smiles his “Yes” to us all. Pregnant mothers sit down at the round communal table, sipping their hot tea resting for too-brief a moment, while their toddlers eat brownies and flit through the pages of their new-to-them purchase. Maureen and I take turns sweeping the floor.

This has been A Letter From A. Broad written and read for you by Muriel Murch with WSM by my side. Tech support by murchstudio.com