Tales of the forgotten and overdue library books

An overdue library book doesn’t usually make the news. I mean, come on — it’s a library book.

These books’ corners are crusty from someone’s spilled drink, the pages are doodled on, and it kind of smells like your grandmother’s attic.

Besides, I’d hope most libraries can survive a book or two going MIA.

Nevertheless, this doesn’t mean we don’t stop and do a double-take when a library book gets returned after more than six decades — complete with a letter of apology and a $100 cheque.

But that is exactly what happened at the University of British Columbia library earlier this year.

I have to admit, the dedication it takes to mail back a book that has been overdue since before most of our parents were born is kind of impressive — even more when you consider the borrower took the time to explain himself in a letter.

For most people, finding an overdue library book is probably a lot like realizing you forgot to reply to a text.

When I see a text from my sister asking what she should eat for lunch, I figure it’s only 10:00 am, so I’ll get back to her later. Next thing I know I’m getting ready for bed when I suddenly remember.

So what do I do? The logical thing — leave her on read and pretend the text doesn’t exist.

Once you miss that window of “reasonably late,” the only rational thing to do is pretend it never happened. Unless, of course, you’ve been holding onto a library book since the last century and suddenly decided to make things right in 2025.

I figure most people would prefer a more covert operation, in comparison, such as an anonymous drop off or quietly orphaning the book in a random donation box.

Out of sight, out of mind. At least we can clear our conscience and forget about it once the incriminating piece of literature is gone from our shelves. I think that’s what some of my neighbours were thinking.

A couple of years ago, someone in my apartment set up a small bookshelf in an empty corner of the amenities room. Taped to it was a sign that read, “Friendly neighbourhood library! Take a book, leave a book.”

The collection grew quickly, with people eager to abandon their dog-eared copies of trashy dime novels and university readings they never wanted to see again.

On that note, shoutout to whoever abandoned their annotated copy of Chaucer’s Major Poetry — hope you survived your English degree!

While walking past our friendly neighbourhood library every day with my dog, I started to notice something over time — books with library stamps and barcodes.

Sure, some of these might have been donated by a library and legitimately purchased from a second-hand store. Most of those have their barcodes removed or crossed off to indicate the book rightfully earned its retirement from circulation.

But what about that one book labelled “Okanagan Regional Library”? The one with all its labels and stickers pristinely intact? Call me a skeptic, but I have my suspicions about that one.

I like to think the book had an epic journey to get here. An unintentional stowaway that was accidentally smuggled across the province during someone’s move, only to be orphaned on a bookshelf hundreds of kilometres away from home.

At the very least, I hope it’s happy here.

But if anyone from the Okanagan Regional Library is reading this, do you happen to be missing a copy of Bitter is the New Black?