Breakfast in Scarborough

Taylor Memorial Library started with a love story. In 1962, Fred Taylor donated his 1921 family home to the Scarborough Public Library Board as a memorial to his first wife, Florence Nightengale Taylor. After twenty-two years, the house near Kingston and Warden was demolished and the current building opened in 1985 on the same site.

When I visited Taylor Memorial for the second time last week, I realized that I had previously overlooked a black and white photograph of Florence Taylor in a long formal gown. A lovely flowering vine curled around her photo in the white space between the picture and the frame. To the right of Florence’s picture were framed photographs of Fred Taylor and his second wife, Kate.

I was sorry that the Taylor’s original house no longer remained because I would like to have seen it. The next best thing was a painting of the 1921 home which hung above the east side of the fireplace. The artist, Nikita Marner, presented the viewer with a tall fairy-tale cottage distinguished by a timbered exterior.

Before I knew that Taylor Memorial had once been an actual house, it had struck me that the current edifice looked more home-like than many of the other TPL branches. On my previous visit, I wrote in my notebook that Taylor Memorial’s exterior was like “a slightly official-looking cottage.”

As I took in the library’s interior, I was impressed by how faithfully it upheld the spirit of Fred Taylor’s priceless gift: a home as a sanctuary for quiet reading and reflection. I hope Fred would have been pleased that I found Taylor Memorial to be the least institutional of all the seventy-four branches I’ve visited so far. Each piece of furniture was just right for settling down for a good long read, from the lawn chairs on the covered patio by the garden, to the comfortable high-backed armchairs in front of the fireplace, to a semi-circular cushioned window seat in front of a bay window.

Three elegant paintings of the Scarborough Bluffs (one of the original cliffs in Yorkshire and the others of the local Ontario version) adorned the interior space. They reminded me that the real Lake Ontario beckoned just a few minutes drive from the library.

On the south wall, an arched stained glass window lent a sacred element to the relaxing atmosphere. Possibly inspired by the floral embellishments on Florence Taylor’s photo, glass butterflies and a few birds fluttered attendance on a flowering vine which filled most of the window.

With so many high windows, refined paintings, garden views, and inviting surfaces to sit on, Taylor Memorial branch invited peace into my soul. If you are a visionary or just someone who loves to read in a state of restful abandon, I highly recommend a pilgrimage to this harmonious place. Its aesthetics of lounging are remarkable and bear testimony to the loving spirit of a generous library benefactor, Fred Taylor.

Located next to The Flower Emporium at Parkway Mall, Maryvale Library shares a lot in common with its mall-library cousin, Eglinton Square. Both branches opened in the 80′s (1987 and 1983 respectively), occupy one room, and don’t put on any airs. Marvyale even has the same wooden letters spelling “CHILDREN’S” on the wall as Eglinton Square does, although the Cat in the Hat inhabits the letter “C” instead of a monkey. The Cat’s jaunty bow-tie and mischievous expression encouraged playfulness.

On a high shelf near the irreverent Cat stood a fold-out series of Peter Sis illustrations of Sleep Safe Little Whale by Miriam Schlein. A wide variety of sleeping animals appeared in the paper panorama, but I found the panda bear mother and her cub in a hollow tree especially endearing.

Another nearby shelf provided a platform for a white mama rabbit with a baby stitched to her arms. The older rabbit wore a pink ruffled apron trimmed with a floral pattern, and the inside of her ears were lined with same floral cloth. I think the pair were about to attend a party, for they both had festive bows sewn on their foreheads at the point where bunny ears started to sprout.

Throughout the library, a certain randomness to the decorations prevailed. Wooden birds on stands faced Lord of the Rings posters on the other side of the room. I saw a Renoir print, some aging travel posters, and an odd paper-craft item (a square within a square with a dangling tail) over the check-out desk. Clutching the registration sign overhead was a superhero toy with a cape.

Despite my lukewarm response to Maryvale’s decor, I don’t mean imply that the value of a library lies in its appearance. After all, Maryvale branch is a friendly, well-stocked facility that offers materials in Chinese, Greek, French, Arabic, Tamil, and Hindi. It just seems unfair to me that some branches look smarter than others. For example, why does Beaches Library have a a timbered ceiling and a window seat overlooking Kew Gardens while Bridlewood Library has a rocket made of construction paper? I realize it’s not as simple as “wealthy neighbourhood equals elegant library.” Some of the most lovely branches — Riverdale, Kennedy/Eglinton, McGregor Park, Malvern, Woodside Square — are in relatively deprived areas. My wish for wall-flower libraries like Maryvale is for them to be models of beauty in a wasteland of urban malls.

(Note: Bridlewood’s paper rocket is no more! See this post for Bridlewood’s newer look).

Building on a very brief sketch of Spadina Library that I posted in October 2007, I’d like to offer a more complete picture. On previous visits, the branch had been packed with people, but last Tuesday it wasn’t desperately crowded. I was able to gaze at dream catchers, artwork, and the extensive Native People’s Collection without annoying too many patrons who might need to navigate around me.

As a viewer taking her time to look around carefully, I really appreciated the decorative unity of the First Nations, Inuit and nature-themed objects which rested on shelves and hung suspended in the air. For example, two upright hand puppets with Inuit features and fur-lined parkas stood a shelf away from a miniature canoe woven from plant fibres.

A flamingo marionette hung next to a marionette of uncertain taxonomy, and a striking assortment of dream catchers kept aerial company with a flying wooden duck.

Closer to the ground, librarians had created a path to the children’s collection by laying down playful animal tracks on circles of blue, green, and yellow paper. The book-loving animals which had left their paw and hoof prints on the carpet included bears, raccoons, and deer.

Animal themes were amplified in the vibrant collection of First Nations artwork on the walls. Placed overhead at well-spaced intervals were intense portraits in solid colours of the following creatures: owls, spirit fish, turtles, baby robins, a bear on his hind legs reaching for a bee hive, a frog catching flies, a redwinged blackbird, a squirrel, a cricket, a raccoon, and a porcupine.

Eleanor Kanasawe, a painter who exhibits on Manitoulin Island, created all of these beautiful pieces, and a couple of animal paintings by two other artists rounded out the collection. I loved the strong colours and the way each piece retained stand-alone integrity while simultaneously remaining part of an integrated whole.

Moving down the walls from art to books, the Native People’s Collection included novels and non-fiction material about culture, art, religion, history, and languages (plus DVD’s and videos on these subjects). The reference shelves displayed dictionaries for students of Cree, Micmac, Mohawk, Anishinaabe, Metis Cree, and Chippewa.

Although Spadina Library’s multilingual collection was small, it did contain language kits for most of the languages listed above, as well as Tlingit, Cherokee, Persian, French, Spanish, Vietnamese, Somali, and Hungarian. Crouching on the floor to study the kits, the plastic boxes seemed so hopeful to me; they promised travel and communicative adventure. Inspired by the possibilities of new words and new perspectives, I put away my notebook and made tracks to Spadina subway station.

Danforth/Coxwell branch hummed with energy from the moment I walked in the door. Kids raced around to gather books, strollers abounded, and every corner of the building hosted a reader. Danforth/Coxwell seemed the place to be on a summer weekday afternoon.

On the west side of the main level, a lime-green gorilla hung from the ceiling next to a fuzzy pelican in green, orange, and black. Near the west wall, three carpeted steps led up to a small platform that supported shelves of picture books. A father was sprawled on one of the steps, reading a story to his two boys.

In addition to the comfortable steps, three solid window benches provided yet more literary opportunities and doubled as miniature stages for self-expression. One little girl was so happy in the library that she was jumping up and down on a window seat in her flip-flops! A cheerleader for literacy!

Happily, I noted three more wooden window benches on the other side of the main floor, which held the teen and adult sections. All three window perches faced Danforth Avenue, where passersby were bracing their umbrellas for an imminent thunderstorm. Appreciating my sheltered position, I walked between tall shelves of fiction and non-fiction, noting the extensive Chinese and French collections. I eventually came to rest on a window seat as the sky darkened outside. After sorting through a stack of library materials accumulated during my self-guided tour (which to borrow, which to resist?), I got checked out and walked up to the second floor.

The upper level contained offices, washrooms, and a community room where I once spent a few hours volunteering for an English Conversation Circle, another reminder of how much the Toronto Public Library helps newcomers and more established Torontonians alike! Makes me want to jump on a window seat and cheer!

Inside Eglinton Square Mall is a food court. Inside that food court is a Manchu Wok. And beside Manchu Wok is a library!

I have visited Eglinton Square Library dozens of times, but last week I decided to take a closer look.

A no-frills branch in one square room, the library was crowded at six pm on a weeknight. Numerous patrons had staked their claims on various study-territories, spreading out their papers widely to ensure sufficient personal space.

Korean, Chinese, and Tamil materials constituted most of the multilingual section. Hindu videos were also represented, but the Greek collection had been shipped to Albert Campbell branch and the Gujarati collection to Downsview branch.

Three sets of low shelves arranged in a boxy “U” shape created an alcove for the Children’s Section. The main decoration was a set of chunky wooden letters spelling “Children’s” attached to the wall. A wooden monkey sat in the lower curve of the capital “C”.

The Romance collection seemed very extensive in proportion to the size of the branch. (What is it about mall libraries?) With lots of titles to choose from, let me conclude this post with a selection to consider: Beast of Desire, Sex as a Second Language, Perfectly Saucy, and Dirty Harriet Rides Again.