The first time I saw a Little Free Library, I was struck by the novelty. A person in my neighborhood built a library (both little and free) on their property, inviting complete strangers to borrow from it. With no questions asked. It felt like a small but generous act of radical trust. So I borrowed a book.
The second time I saw a Little Free Library, I realized: Oops, this is actually a mailbox, not a library. I owe this family a natural gas bill now.
Little Free Library began in 2009 when Todd Bol of Hudson, Wisconsin, built a small book-sharing box and mounted it in his front yard. It was meant as a tribute to his late mother, a teacher who loved reading. He encouraged people to take a book and/or leave one.
No membership. No library card. No due date. No exclusivity, qualifications, or privilege. Open to all. Unlike the box of donuts in the office that appeared to be for everyone, but actually was intended only for the accounts payable group. (Sorry, AP.)
Bol’s idea grew into a nonprofit. Today, there are more than 200,000 registered Little Free Libraries in more than 128 countries. More than 50 are in my town.
And now there’s one in my yard.
The Little Free Libraries (or LFLs as they are called, at least by me) appear in neighborhoods, churches, and parks. Most resemble little houses. Some are elaborate works of art. Some have attachments holding dog treats. Some are repurposed wine fridges. (Emphasis on “repurposed” because “Little Free Wine Fridge” would create an entirely different neighborhood program.)
All of them share the same basic invitation: This is for you.
What captured me wasn’t only the literacy mission, worthy as it is. It was the quiet audacity of building community by inviting strangers to share — without keeping score. If you install a Little Free Library on your property, you’re basically putting up a welcome sign and meaning it. “Mi Casa es su casa.” Or more specifically: “Mi pequeña biblioteca libre es tu pequeña biblioteca libre.” That’s probably not accurate Spanish. I took two years of German in high school.
Take a book. Leave a book. Take three and leave none. That’s okay too.
There aren’t many things left in modern society that operate entirely on the honor system. Someone could empty the library. Someone could damage it. Someone could expose your affinity for the spicy alien werewolf romantasy genre. (Not mine. Someone else must have left that in there.)
But the possibility that someone might abuse your generosity shouldn’t prevent you from being generous.
That is the small act of radical trust at the center of every Little Free Library.
When we enjoy a book, we want someone else to experience it. So we place it in a little box and offer it to someone we may never meet. It is generous, anonymous, and unconditional. A rebellious belief that the things we love are meant to be shared.
Also, I like free stuff.
Watch your donuts, accounting.
