Palmerston Library, a modest-sized branch just west of Bathurst on Bloor, was a relaxing place to spend a couple of hours in the city. A considerable number of fellow Torontonians seemed to share my sentiment, as the main room (square with white brick walls) was filled to capacity with readers and computer users. What saved the all-white interior from being overly institutional was a display of Summer Reading Club illustrations near the entrance. These pictorial book reports created by young readers gave testimony to time machines, fire engines, subway cars, three little pigs, a dragon, and a “vacation under the volcano.”
A few more playful decorations livened up the space to the left of the entrance. A purple wizard kite flew overhead in a floppy purple hat that seemed part-toque, part-nightcap. Wire-rim spectacles and a long gray beard further enhanced his scholarly image, and he had tucked his hands into drawn-on sleeves. Actually, his arms were no more than suggestions; they served as the kite’s side flaps. The rest of the wizard’s body was one very long purple swoosh of kite material, spanning the children’s section diagonally. Next to the wizard was a much smaller kite, a multicoloured fish with a propeller-like tail.
Palmerston branch, which opened in 1971, had initially been a children’s library (see TPL’s website). The kids’ books were indeed plentiful, including lots of French ones, but I was surprised to find loose bare sofa cushions on the floor instead of carpeted window seats and other amenities common in the majority of branches I’ve visited.
The adult section offered a good many Korean materials and to a lesser extent, Spanish ones. On the wall near the ESL shelves were two important notice boards: Newcomer Information and Volunteer Opportunities. A small Local History Collection displayed titles such as The Riot at Christie Pits, The Annex, and Honest Ed Mirvish: How to Build an Empire on an Orange Crate. I couldn’t see Honest Ed’s corny brilliance from my table near the computers, but I did enjoy the view of the back of some red brick buildings along Bloor. They reminded me of the rear view of late 19th century storefronts in my hometown square of Liberty, Missouri. (My mother once devoted a whole series of paintings to these architectural shapes one summer).
Before I left Palmerston to meet a friend, I wanted to see the basement level which housed a meeting room and theatre. However, the door was locked, possibly because no specific events were scheduled that day. Not overly daunted, I tucked a DVD biography of Charles Darwin into my backpack and rejoined the pedestrian traffic along Bloor.