The great british telephone box library scandal | thearticle

One of the unexpected by-products of the pandemic has been an appetite for news stories about rural communities. In normal times, village gossip is of little interest to the national media,

which devotes its attention to more important (or self-important) personages. In a period of suspended animation, though, it seems that the public has rediscovered the pleasures of reading

about ordinary people doing silly things in picturesque places. The latest tale comes from the village of Hurstbourne Tarrant (population 851). There the parish council has appealed to local

residents to stop desecrating their beloved telephone box library with — pause for effect — _erotica. _Yes, you read that correctly. The idea of finding anything steamier than a cookbook in

rural Hampshire positively boggles the imagination. What is the cause of this outburst of righteous indignation? The book depository stands next door to the primary school. And, as the

council missive points out, “some of the children are tall enough to reach the shelves where books for grown-ups are”. Admonishing the unknown donor for corrupting the young, the councillors

add sternly: “Please find another outlet for your collection.” As for other, more respectable parishioners: they are instructed to deal ruthlessly with “inappropriate” books: “Put them in

the bin next door or let us know ASAP.” Is it possible that the good people of Hurstbourne Tarrant are stuck in a 1950s time warp, perhaps connected with their telephone kiosk library?

(Where is Doctor Who when you need her?) Has news of the Lady Chatterley trial and the abolition of censorship yet to reach this corner of the South Downs National Park, an area of

outstanding natural beauty and seemingly of unnatural prudishness? The point about libraries — even very, very small ones — is that they almost always contain books that are “inappropriate”

for somebody. But the moral jeopardy of letting children roam fancy-free among the bookcases is far outweighed by the value of serendipity — the magical moment when a child discovers the joy

of reading for him or herself. To treat adult literature as dangerous is to infantilise young readers — and counter-productive, too. Do parents and teachers worry about child protection

every time boys and girls set foot in the local public library, lest they stray into the “grown-up” sections? In reality, most are more likely to be glad that the kids are reading books at

all, rather than spending their leisure looking at who-knows-what online. Their innocence is at incomparably greater risk from the smartphones they all have than from a smutty paperback in a

phone box. This is not, apparently, how they see things in Hurstbourne Tarrant. The former editor of the parish magazine told _The Times _that the culprit might not be from the village at

all. Still, she was honest enough to admit that nothing “as exciting as this” had happened there before. What sheltered lives they must lead in Hurstbourne Tarrant. When Sir Giles Gilbert

Scott created his classic design for the K6 kiosk in the 1930s, nobody imagined that these public phone booths would one day find a new purpose as book exchanges. Many villages have thereby

preserved their elegant red boxes, including one in Norfolk where the miniature library commemorates the designer’s son Richard Gilbert Scott, also a distinguished architect. These little

libraries have hitherto attracted no controversy and they add a focus to remote places that often lack amenities. Perhaps the residents of Hurstbourne Tarrant will regret the council’s

decision to draw attention to their community. The parishioners may well be less pooterish than the self-appointed guardians of their morals. But the rest of us should be grateful to the

councillors for making us smile at their folly.  A MESSAGE FROM THEARTICLE _We are the only publication that’s committed to covering every angle. We have an important contribution to make,

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