When I was recently rereading Ian Rankin’s Rebus detective novels, gathered over years of sleuthing around second-hand bookshops in three provinces, I made a discovery: in my personal collection there were fewer than half of the novels that had been written about the life and career of the fictional Edinburgh policeman, the first of which was published in 1987.
The latest book, Midnight and Blue, with John Rebus now way past his retirement, came out in 2024. How to fill all those gaps? Find all those books? Well, it so happens the public library has not gone away. In the atomised age of individual screens and targeted messages determined by algorithms, there is still a public place for — as the sign in Cape Town’s central library has it — “being, exploring, imagining and collaborating”. And all paid for from the public purse, putting taxes to good use.
My quest started at Rondebosch library, in a fine old Victorian building that began its civic life as the town hall of the Rondebosch municipality. The library shares a car park with the train station, another example of how the Victorians concerned themselves with the public good at a time when people were crowding together in cities in unprecedented numbers.
As with so much else, South Africa followed Britain’s lead. The pursuit of progress took a big step forward in the UK in 1850 with the passing of two laws, the Public Libraries Act and the Factory Act, the latter giving workers Saturday afternoon off. This not only allowed for book browsing but also led to the creation of organised sports leagues for playing or watching.
In South Africa the Molteno Regulations of 1874 worked so well that the Cape Colony is said to have had “one of the greatest concentrations of public libraries anywhere in the world”, according to Wikipedia. The Western Cape still leads in South Africa, with 373 of the country’s 1,459 public libraries, and my experience suggests that they offer excellent service.
In the atomised age of individual screens and targeted messages determined by algorithms, there is still a public place for ‘being, exploring, imagining and collaborating’
At Rondebosch, assistants Mitchel and Imadah were efficiency itself as they explained the interlibrary loan system through which I can get any book I want, provided it is somewhere in the system. I also received the link for the online public-access catalogue and a tip-off about a great website for searching for fiction, Fantasticfiction.com.
Rondebosch’s library has recently been renovated and has a sun-filled reading room.
In Claremont, a clever bit of co-operation between the city and a private developer created a modern library on the bottom floor of a building that is part of a precinct containing medical offices, flats and restaurants. In previous years the library was squeezed into prefabricated buildings next to the old town hall. Now it defines Library Square.
The central library was also given a new home when the old Volunteer Drill Hall on the Parade was repurposed in 2006. The steel lattice work that forms the shelving and walkways perfectly complements the high-domed ceilings. Sections for teens and coding suggest that the library is keeping up with the times.
At Langa library the 40-chair study room and eight computer terminals point to engagement with the needs of the community. Among the skills possessed by chief librarian Sandile Bukani is the ability to put a group of tiny preschoolers at ease via finger-snapping singing.
At Hanover Park library bookshelves are on castors so that space can be maximised for community events. Kloof Street library has a charming courtyard, where at least one wake for a regular reader has been held.
As with so many other public services, funding cuts have hit the library service — but if you know that Kloof Street is open on three days, you can plan. By contrast, the central library is open most weekdays to 6pm. I was hugely impressed that I could pop in before going on to an event elsewhere in the city.
Libraries open up possibilities. There is a story of a young man in the UK who cycled every Saturday from his small village to teach himself Greek at the Manchester central library so that he could study the great philosophers in the original. His school results were not good enough for university admission, but fortunately his cycling in search of insight was discovered during a conversation.
My goal is a little more prosaic, but it’s the library system that is going to get me there.
Incidentally, Midnight and Blue is available in seven Cape Town libraries.
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