The Lost ‘Library Voice’
The library of my youth, in Ocean Township, N.J., was a tomb of peace, where the only sounds were shuffles, whispers and the occasional shush — delivered with an index finger crossing the lips of a bespectacled, cardigan-wearing librarian.
These days, at my local branch in Washington Township, N.J., I have to play an MP3 file in a loop — a sound bite of a hair dryer blasting between my ears — because without the white noise, I would not be able to think straight.
A “Complaint Box” essay I wrote for the Times.
