My search for America's last decent public libraries

But increasingly, those books are not located in a branch library. They are in a warehouse somewhere. In a state of storage. When you receive these stored books, they often look strange and sickly. Like they haven’t seen sunlight in a while. Like they belong in a museum, an artifact from the past.Into the futureA couple of years ago, I visited several recently completed public libraries in major North American cities: Seattle, Phoenix, Salt Lake City, Calgary, among others. I noticed these libraries had been specifically designed in anticipation of a decline in book-reading.These new buildings had “craft” areas, or recording studios, or computer labs. They had conference rooms, where they held workshops for seniors to help them use their smartphones, or instruct young people on how to start a business. Most of these new libraries were socialistic in nature. They were becoming places where people could access social programs and government assistance. You could sign up for job training. You could get help with your taxes. Prisons and psych wardsAnother thing I noticed: The designers and architects of these libraries seemed to believe that rampant homelessness was not a passing trend. In their minds, this was a permanent situation, which libraries would need to accommodate and serve.Because of this, many contemporary libraries look and feel very different from the classic library environment.They had removed old, comfortable furniture and replaced it with unbreakable plastic chairs and tables. Reading lamps were gone, with harsh overhead LED lighting taking their place. Charging stations and sleeping lounges were favored over cozy study nooks. Couches or armchairs were made of odor-resistant, easily disinfected fabrics. Outdoor areas were constructed so they could be hosed down. Because of these changes, many new libraries often looked like a cross between a prison and a psych ward. They’d been designed to house unclean, unpredictable, occasionally violent, and sometimes incontinent humans. Shhhhhhhh!One recent incident I found interesting: I was in a local library, and a patron was watching a TV show very loudly on his phone.A librarian appeared to see what the noise was. I looked at her like, “Can you say something to that person?”She shrugged and said, “Libraries are for everyone. I’m not allowed to tell them to turn their phone down.”She wasn’t allowed? I thought to myself. “But you,” she said, looking at me. “You can say something.”Looking at the TV-watching patron, I didn’t feel inclined to confront him. But how could it be that the librarian wasn’t allowed to intervene? In search of the 'luxury library'Like I said, I love libraries. I love the quiet. I love the atmosphere. I love being around other studious types like myself. I’ve kept tabs on the libraries in my own city, frequently visiting some of my old favorites, to check on which ones are making progress and which ones are getting worse. (They’re all getting worse.)But recently, I stopped doing that. I don’t go to the big central library building anymore. I have seen enough during recent years to know what that looks like.Now what I do — at home and in other cities I visit — is figure out where the wealthiest parts of town are, and I find small regional libraries in those areas. In such places, you have the best chance of finding the “original library experience.” Peace. Quiet. Clean carpets. Comfortable chairs. You encounter kind, thoughtful librarians (as opposed to the PTSD librarians you encounter in the war-zone libraries).Actual families visit these places. Moms with their kids. Teenagers after school. There’s no need for armed security at the front door. There are no Narcan canisters rolling around in the bathroom.What about the children?But even these places are subject to change, as they continue to expand their purview.In one such “luxury library” I frequent, the library has become a kind of part-time nursery school. During certain hours, one half of the building fills up with small children. There are toys and games and little play areas set up for them. Because this small library is basically one giant room, I am exposed to the screams and cries of the children. They run around. Occasionally, I find them hiding under my table as I work.I don’t mind the children at all. I don’t have children of my own and always enjoy their antics. And the library has to do something with that space, don’t they?RELATED: When did America's public libraries become homeless encampments? Genaro Molina/Getty ImagesStill searchingEven in these wealthy neighborhoods, it’s clear that the libraries are struggling to find ways to remain relevant to their communities.They have my sympathies. I don’t want libraries to go away. But what purpose will they serve going forward?I’d prefer that libraries not become another arm of the “nanny state,” full of progressive propaganda and social activism. (“Drag Queen Story Hour” is trying to make a comeback at one library in my city.)And what about the homeless? Is it really the fate of our great American library system to become a charging station and nod-out zone for drug addicts and street people?But such is the nature of our socialist society. Tiny enclaves of luxury. Prisons and psych wards for everybody else.The only solution I have found is to seek out these “luxury libraries” — and make full use of them. And I recommend that others do the same.