The Main Branch of the New York Public Library at 42nd Street (the one guarded by two stone lions) first opened in 1911 and has been a city icon ever since. In the 1920s during its borrowing heyday 1,000 books per hour were being requested and it stayed open until 10pm. Then it fell into disrepair and it stopped lending out books. Eventually both the exterior and interior achieved landmark status (in 1967, and 1974 respectively.) Now, it is more tourist attraction than functional resource but still, a lot of earnest-looking students and scholarly types sit in the awe-inspiring Main reading room and sit under the gaze of stacks of research material hunched over books or typing away at laptops. A near-absolute quiet reigns in the cathedral-like space. Contrast this to many other public libraries, which has in recent years have become a hub for many homeless people, oddballs, and loud talkers. (On the hand thank God they have a place to go, but on the other - it's no place to work.) This morning I had a craving to return to this former haunt and was a little taken aback by some of the recent renovations - a gift shop and cafe(!). But the Main Reading Room still seemed to be there in all its glory. Now,  though amid the hordes of tourists it seemed to have extra layers of gatekeeping, including prominent signs and staff vetting everyone who wanted to come in. "Do you have a book to research?" I was asked. I produced a hardcover fiction copy of The Leftovers and was waved through and told to remain quiet and stay seated. Never in a million years would I expect books to become a kind of currency in this electronic age. I sat down and bathed in the golden silence and wrote.