I’m taking a brief pause from book reviews to talk about something just as close to my heart: free books, book donations, and the simple magic of the Little Free Library.
Close to home, I sometimes spot bins at garage sales labeled “free books.” They always stop me in my tracks. When I travel, though, I notice them even more—boxes marked “free books,” tucked into unexpected corners, and, more often, Little Free Libraries quietly waiting to be discovered. Each one feels like a small invitation: take a story, leave a story, be part of something bigger.
The Little Free Library movement began in 2009, when Todd Bol of Wisconsin built a tiny library on his front lawn, shaped like a one-room schoolhouse. What started as a heartfelt gesture quickly grew into something extraordinary. A nonprofit was formed soon after, and today Little Free Libraries can be found across all 50 U.S. states and in communities around the world.
Typically, these libraries take the form of small, mounted boxes placed in public spaces and filled with donated books. You may have one near you without even realizing it. They come in all shapes and sizes—most often roofed wooden structures resting on posts or poles—but no two are quite the same. Many are lovingly painted with bright colors and designs, reflecting the personality of the neighborhood that tends them.
The Little Free Library pictured above is stocked entirely with donations. While it’s colorful and eye-catching, I’ve seen many others that are simple wooden boxes brimming with books and quiet possibility. Over the years, I’ve also noticed that many municipal and state parks have embraced the same idea, setting up “take a book, donate a book” boxes along walking paths and near picnic areas.
These humble exchange boxes do something powerful: they invite the community to take part in promoting literacy and sharing stories. In a world where some people discard books once they’re finished reading them, donating a book becomes an act of generosity—a way to give a story another life in someone else’s hands. And that, to me, is a beautiful thing.