It’s refreshing to see Student Body President Ian Green moving forward with making one of the two major libraries – either Marston Science Library or Library West – 24/7. Ask anyone on campus and they’ll agree that keeping one of those two libraries, ones that, you know, actually have books and plentiful seating, open at all hours is the logical thing to do.
I mean, whose idea was it to make Newell Hall the primary 24/7 library, anyways? Newell is… cute. I can’t discredit Newell. It was the building my great grandfather took classes in when he studied here in the ‘20s. Of course, it’s not like he had much of an option. There were what, three buildings here?
While Marston and Library West are fantastic libraries — I spent hours-upon-hours in Marston last semester, checking out entomology books or getting distracted and not doing homework — there are many smaller, more secretive libraries around campus that don’t get the love and appreciation that they deserve. Take the Fine Arts library as an example: double. decker. desks. Are you KIDDING me? It’s like studying in my childhood fantasy. Mom, if you’re reading this, I still want a bunk bed. Then there’s Smathers Library, Library West’s sophisticated, pretentious older brother. The Great Reading Room, I’m convinced, was inspired by Hogwarts. Or maybe Hogwarts was inspired by the Great Reading Room? All I know is that your IQ rises by at least ten points just by walking into Smathers. Had I written this in Smathers, it probably would have been much more eloquent, potentially even Pulitzer Prize-worthy. My personal favorite, and maybe the smallest, most secluded library to ever exist, would be the philosophy library. You’re probably thinking, what do you do in the world’s smallest library, sit around and philosophize? Yes. Yes I do. Plenty of abstract, esoteric philosophical ideas have been conjured up in that little room. Like Smathers, you’re infinitely smarter just by walking in. While the actual libraries are wonderful, some of the best places to get work done around campus are not even libraries at all.
There are also plenty of little nooks and crannies around campus, albeit, like Newell, there aren’t any books at those locations. People who enjoy utter chaos and deafening loudness tend to study at the Reitz. The Hub is a popular spot to do work, as it has a Chick-Fil-A and a Starbucks. The Hub is great if you want to eat comfort food and cry into your macroeconomics homework, which I have definitely never done. The benches around campus, surrounded by Florida’s natural beauty, are a nice spot for a study date, where you probably won’t actually get anything productive done. Plaza of the Americas, the lawn in front of Library West, is an ideal place for eating Krishna and reading, weather permitting. Lake Alice is also a lovely outdoor niche to set up a hammock and read, just don’t get eaten by our mascot. And I don’t mean Albert.
I digress. My point here, ultimately, is that we only have four years here — unless you’re a nerd and are planning on graduating early, or if you’re like me and switched your major seven million times and won’t graduate until approximately 2040 — so take advantage of all of these unique study spaces. Someday you’ll want to come back to sit on the upper level of the bunk-desks in Fine Arts, but you’ll be escorted off the premises because you’re a grown adult who isn’t supposed to like bunk beds anymore. So while you can, go find your niche!
The irony of this all? I'm currently sitting in Library West, writing this.
Hannah Whitaker is a UF English sophomore. Her column appears on Mondays.
