It is 1:30 pm, the sun is sweltering, my vision blurs, and I fear I may not make it. While there is nothing Saharan about Connecticut, the breadth of Yale’s campus and the New Haven sun were undoubtedly enough to start seeing mirages. Then, as if I were indeed an explorer, trekking across dunes, an oasis appeared. Tucked into the Hewitt Quadrangle and surrounded by skaters, the architectural phenomenon boasts what appeared to be windows made of marble. I would later learn that these “windows” were translucent Vermont marble panels, which allowed sunlight to enter the library without damaging the books. But marble windows or not, the stately building promised one thing…AC.
I walked desperately into the building, gasping for air as I took in the blast of immediate air conditioning. I took note of the acoustics as the voices from other guests began to echo against the walls. With regenerated lungs and a drier forehead, I finally craned my neck to acknowledge the imposing tower of floor-to-ceiling books. And suddenly, as though I was in the fireproof pillar, I felt like all the oxygen had been sucked out of my lungs.
While the oxygen-sucking chamber is a bit of an exaggeration, the beauty of the pillar left me breathless as I traveled back in time. The books on the lowest level were heavy manuscripts with reed-like pages and tattered covers bound by threads that stood the test of time. As I wandered upstairs and searched for familiar titles in the archives, Peter Pan seemed to finally grow up as different versions of the story formed a timeline through the decades. One glass case, in particular, seemed to disappear behind the mass of guests around it, piquing my curiosity as I approached the dimly lit display. Inside, the Gutenberg Bible lay open, with large pages covered in dark ink written in a script that seemed more like a font than handwriting. With a class looming, I took more pictures and trudged back into the heat for a seminar.
As I walked back, my mind was less busy with thoughts of heat and more concerned with the inner workings of the Beinecke. I was certain that no one was allowed to read or even touch the materials. I caught up with one of my instructors, Wyatt Renolds, to ask what he thought of this museum of sorts, and to my surprise, not only were the books available for public use, they were used consistently! Reynolds describes the Beinecke as “One of the most beautiful and unique libraries in the Western Hemisphere,” I couldn’t agree more.
What an incredible privilege it is to journey through time and read the stories of the world, written in clay, script, and wood. With such a massive historical canon sitting on Yale’s campus, I highly recommend that anyone with the opportunity to visit New Haven adds the Beinecke to their itinerary. Architecturally splendid, rich in history, and thoroughly air-conditioned, it is a destination for travelers from all over the world, including those from the faraway lands of Pierson College.
Author Details:
Azaio Udoh
Literature, Philosophy & Culture
GA, USA