Eatonville Library resides at the intersection of Burnhamthorpe and Highway 427. A reconstruction of the building occurred in 2000, but heavy use has since tarnished some of its millennial shine. I sensed a more gritty vibe from this popular branch whose patrons’ cultural diversity reminded me of branches closer to my home in Scarborough, such as Fairview, Albert Campbell, and Cedarbrae.
On my first visit in 2009, I noticed a man praying on his knees behind the paperback carrels, rising and then returning to rest his forehead on the floor again and again. Not far from the devout man, library materials were on offer in Chinese, Serbian, Korean, Polish, Punjabi, Spanish, and French.
Eatonville’s children’s section was vast and well-stocked with English and multilingual books, but graffiti carved into the wooden window bench provided more urban realism than the library was probably looking for. While I like graffiti as a form of expression, it troubled me to see swear words embedded in a library bench.
Even the stuffed animals that lined two high shelves had seen more prosperous times; many of them were stained with magic marker, fur-tattered, and ready for retirement. Nevertheless, the sheer volume of the stuffed assembly was impressive: a frog lying on his back, a bunny, a duck, a blue and green bumblebee, a blue dog, a burgundy elephant, a clown, an electric-lime-green bear, a black hen, and a panda bear in a blue snow suit. (On my 2012 visit, I noticed that some of the more worn animals had been removed).
As I waited in a long line to check out a travel DVD, I gazed up at the high ceiling and appreciated the calm it afforded. In fact, several station points in the library provided uncluttered views and a sense of openness.
Walking back to the car, I admired the tall grasses planted around the perimeter of the building and a footpath composed of recycled manhole covers, now permanently free from the constant press of Toronto’s vehicles.
As I looked in my rear view mirror, the asymmetrical hulk of the library struck me as resembling a silver ocean-liner docked at the highway’s edge or possibly a gray whale taking a rest. Whether ship or mammal, I felt grateful for Eatonville’s vitality, commitment to diversity, and unconventional architectural beauty.