Greenpoint's Greenest Building

The new public library cost a lot, and it may have been worth it.

- JUSTIN DAVIDSON

IF YOU’RE A NEW YORKER, chances are you live within walking distance of one of the city’s 208 branch libraries. Roughly a quarter of them are early-20th-century Carnegie libraries, limestone-and-brick-fronted affairs with high arched windows and fancy cornices meant to bring a sense of ceremony to opening a hardbound volume. Another 65 or so date from the 1960s and ’70s. Named for the mayor who went on a branch-building spree, the squat, cramped, and plain but serviceable “Lindsay boxes” generally make you want to check out a book and go home. People don’t, though. Both generations of branch-library architecture have been strained by New Yorkers’ varied needs—for a quiet place to hang out, computer access, job-hunting advice, translation, classes, read-a-louds, homework help, voter registration, a spot to get out of the rain, and assorted other services in dozens of different languages. Your local library is a one-stop shop for civic participation, and a suite of airless rooms with stained carpets and flickering fluorescent lights is not always up to the job.