Since moving to Anchorage, one of the places I visit weekly is the public library. I don’t think I’ve spent this much time at a public library since I was a kid. I’m learning to re-appreciate the experience of checking out physical books to read. I’m part of a writing group that meets at the library. It’s a space that is becoming more and move familiar to me full of familiar faces, as well.
On one visit, I noticed a wing on the 3rd floor that I had never explored, a section behind glass with the words “The Alaska Wing” printed on it. I was curious about it but also assumed I wasn’t allowed to go in there. My default mode is to avoid trespassing into spaces that I’m not formally invited into. Sometime later, I saw a post on instagram about an exhibit of Sydney Laurence paintings on display in that section of the library. The post said that if you visited the paintings, you could receive a free Sydney Laurence print. I told my writing group at our next meeting and invited them to visit The Alaska Wing with me after our meeting (trespassing is less scary in a group). Fortified by witnesses, I led the group to the hallway behind the glass wall. A display cabinet ran along one side. We looked at the paintings, landscapes framed ornately in gold, behind another layer of glass. As I walked down the length of the display, my eyes noticed a room behind the wall that held the paintings. Feeling braver with friends around me, I peeked inside and saw a large room with dark wood shelves and cabinets full of older hardbound editions of classic books, a fireplace, warm lighting, large rugs, and leather chairs and couches. It reminded me of a Victorian gentleman’s club. It looked fancy and cozy, and I knew I wanted to come back.
A week later, I called the library for information about the room. Rather than worry I’d be called out for breaking the rules, I decided to preemptively find out what the rules were. I was told that the Ann Stevens room is open for visitors, except when it has been pre-booked.
I decided to visit on a rainy, humid morning armed with a library copy of Edith Wharton’s The Buccaneers, which I was reading for a book club, and my writing notebook.
The room was quiet and completely empty of people when I arrived. The lighting, furnishings, and decor gave it a cozy feel. A large window on one wall looked out over the courtyard and parking lots. Every once in awhile, the silence was interrupted by the sound of seagulls squawking outside. A set of couches was set up facing each other on one end of the room next to an inactive fireplace. End tables with lamps were placed next to each seat. A chandelier hung from the ceiling with all but one bulb burned out, which actually added to the cozy warm lighting. One end of the room had big wooden double doors. The other end had two sets of glass french doors leading to another room. A handful of leather armchairs were positioned in various parts of the room, allowing for small groups to covort or for private reading and contemplation.
The overall aesthetic was wood, leather, and dark moody colors. It felt very private and inspiring for reading and writing. While I was there, I mostly had the place to myself, except for a few people who wondered in for just a few minutes and a nice security guard who checked in a few times. I was honestly amazed that the space hadn’t been discovered and overrun with dark academia enthusiasts (there aren’t a lot of places for us in Alaska). It’s the perfect place to spend some time aspiring to be the next C.S. Lewis.
Cozy in Alaska 