Have you ever walked into a public library that isn’t exactly inviting, with stale gray shelves and confusing archives? On the contrary, have you ever walked into a Barnes & Noble or a similar store and found an atmosphere that draws you right in? I have, and very few things are more likely to invigorate me to read than this kind of environment. It feels warm and inviting, as if immersing you in a boundless sea while reading Homer’s “Odyssey,” or New York City nightlife in J.D. Salinger’s “The Catcher in the Rye.”

My true passion for books started about a year ago. I have always admired the great thinkers and writers of history and literature. However, this all-consuming obsession with books and thirst for knowledge was absent for most of my youth. Like most kids, I saw reading as an obligation rather than something enjoyable. Now I’ve realized that books can be therapeutic.

I am always elated to see whether Barnes & Noble added anything to the banned books section this week, and I’m electrified to notice anything potentially therapeutic for me in the self-help section. Just breathing in that fresh bookstore smell, along with seeing those magnificent mahogany shelves, is delightful. The staff is also — more so than at any library I have been to — always more than willing to comment on the book I selected if they’ve read it, or give additional recommendations based on my selection.

Now, let’s look back at the average public library. You’d be lucky to have one section tucked away in a microscopic corner containing any recommendations or books that are new and noteworthy. The presentation of the books themselves can make you think you are in a psychiatric ward with monotone walls and weathered wares. Also, I often have to hunt down a librarian who usually doesn’t seem passionate or enthusiastic enough about books to give a recommendation, let alone add some positivity to your day.

Now, this is not to say all libraries are like this. I’m sure there are plenty of libraries — likely in more affluent communities — that have all the bells and whistles. However, given the crucial role of a library, particularly in underprivileged communities, I think serious investment is in store. A library needs not only to be a place of books, but a place of life, giving kids resources and skills they need to prosper and flourish.

By grade three, children spend over 80 percent of their waking hours outside of the classroom. This statistic says a lot about how we elevate school as the ultimate be-all and end-all for learning and development, when most learning happens outside of school.

Let’s use an example of a sixth grader who has to spend an hour at the library to wait for a ride home after school. That hour can be spent in a brain-numbing, phone-induced mania, which is the most likely scenario. Or, with the help of a librarian and an encouraging atmosphere, a book to that kid’s liking can be found. This gives that sixth grader something to fall back on when times get tough — something to look forward to that’s not a game or an unhealthy addiction. All of this to say that if the employees and ecosystem of a library can exude even a slight sense of gregariousness and grace, maybe our precious youth can use some of that 80 percent to thrive.

Maybe the millions, if not billions, of dollars it would take to improve every library in the country to the aesthetic caliber of a private bookstore is not possible. But I truly do not think it is necessary. People of a community make up the very essence of the library. It is a place for public classes, conversations and books. So how about adding an opportunity for public contribution? People can refine and even contribute to aspects of the fabric of their local library, such as painting, designing and suggesting changes.

Regarding staff, although there is already training and suggested ways to act, how about we add real incentives that encourage library staff to radiate support for everyone who walks through the door? Weekly meetings where librarians and staff come together to speak with those who were deeply affected by a certain librarian’s insight and recommendation. Once this kind of conviviality is fundamentally established as rewarded in the system, libraries would be rampant with love.

Books saved me. I have been depressed, hopeless and painfully dazed. Books turn that uncertainty and anxiety into magnificent stories, new worlds and comforting characters. A book is a window, allowing you to peer into the perils and triumphs of different experiences. A book is also a mirror, encouraging its reader to examine themselves more deeply in varied contexts.

A book is you, a book is me, a book has the bad and a book has the beautiful. It took a while for me to have these revelations, shifting literature from something miserably preached by elders to a passionate love I could not live without. Libraries with flourishing communities can be the charming channel through which this river of reading, self-actualization and realization can flow naturally.

There is not a single doubt in my mind regarding the practical benefits society will reap from having better libraries placed throughout every community in the country. We have both an attention epidemic and a listening epidemic because of the bittersweet comfort of having all information within arm’s reach and traveling around in our pockets at all times. Unlike a five-second internet search, books allow you to slowly, methodically and memorably devour knowledge. These skills can transfer directly not only to the subjects of our conversations, but more importantly, to how we have them.

Books and libraries go beyond palliative care for these issues that plague our generation. They change the wiring of our brains, and even our sense of self.

Jacob Lieser is a junior majoring in philosophy, politics and law.

Views expressed in the opinions pages represent the opinions of the columnists. The only piece that represents the view of the Pipe Dream Editorial Board is the staff editorial.