I’ve always been fascinated by reading and by books – yet they need not necessarily be one and the same. For at a very early age of life the idea of libraries intrigued me so much so that before I even went to school I had taken over part of the hall cupboard in my family tenement and together with my twin brother we had started to arrange and catalogue a few books in the house – we had created the Macaskill Library – less interested in what the books contained but more interested in them as physical objects of story and attraction.
As I got older, I began to develop an interest in the words inside the books, and part of that was confirmed when along with my classmates I was taken along the road to become one of the first members of the junior section of the newly opened Hillhead Library on Byers Road in Glasgow. I had never been in a building quite like it – modern, designed and technological and yet at the same time an oasis for somebody who wanted to learn and to gain knowledge.
Over the years my initial fascination with libraries has deepened and I’ve had the pleasure of visiting some of the most amazing libraries in the world, from the Vatican to the New York Public Library on 5th Avenue, to the Bodleian in Oxford and of course the beautiful National Library of Scotland in Edinburgh.
I find myself thinking about libraries and their meaning today because it is Book Lovers Day. And as I reflect I cannot but think of one of the libraries which has left a significant mark upon me and that is the Public Library in Kirkwall, Orkney where I spent many a day over 30 years ago exploring the shelves, sitting quietly reading and chatting to some of the regulars.
One of the folks I met there was called John who was well into his eighties when I met him and yet virtually every day he came to the library. It was in truth partly because of the social aspect of seeing familiar faces and friends; it also meant that he managed to get a bit of warmth in the day, but it was more than that and when I got to know him a little bit I asked him why he came every day. Immediately his response was because “I want to read something new every day until I cannot read anymore. I used to think that reading was for the bairns, but I now know that reading is for all ages.”
What a truth there is in that statement and yet I cannot but reflect on the fact that the ability ot exercise such an aspiration these days is affected by the closure of so many public spaces for reading – our libraries – which sadly are amongst the first public services to be reduced or cut in times of austerity – there are a fewer and fewer places for all people, of all ages to simply sit and read and to enjoy the experience.
Libraries in Scotland have long been engines of community, learning, and social mobility. Yet as I said above, we are losing them at a terrible rate with recent reports showing closures – 42 since 2014 – and cuts to staffing and funding across rural and urban areas, raising alarm among authors and older age advocates.
This is I think is more than disappointing because in many senses we’ve lost an understanding of just how significant reading is for individual and community health and well-being.
I don’t think it was by accident that Scots were famous for the requirement that every child should be able to read and write and that reading had been central to our cultural and national character. Parish schools, universities and public lending libraries like one of Scotland’s first- the Kirkwall Library, established in 1683 – ensured that books became a public resource for growth and learning.
This tradition continues: cultural engagement research in Scotland shows that people aged 75+ are more likely to read than younger groups – underlining that reading remains a valued practice well into older age.
Insights from Scotland’s contemporary wellbeing research emphasise reading’s role in mental and emotional health. A Scottish Book Trust/University of Edinburgh project found that reading fiction in older adulthood evokes hope, nostalgia, humour and identity – helping build meaning and emotional connection. Reading for pleasure also promotes empathy, resilience, and psychological health across the lifespan.
Intergenerational schemes like Scotland Reads unite school pupils and older adult volunteers in reading and story‑sharing. These projects strengthen confidence, literacy, empathy and social networks in both generations – with older volunteers especially reporting increased self‑esteem, new friendships, and purpose through engagement.
Reading is not merely a pastime – in later life it becomes a profound lifeline. Our response to the challenges of ageing and cognitive decline are rightly sophisticated and technological these days but also have to acknowledge and recognise that the simple art of reading has huge benefits to individuals of any age.
Indeed a 14-year Taiwanese study found that older adults who read weekly had about half the risk of cognitive decline compared to infrequent readers – across all education levels. Reading strengthens memory and a US study has shown that engaged leisure reading can improve older adults’ memory skills, laying a foundation for longer-term mental resilience.
The truth of John’s statement to me in Kirkwall is that we keep ourselves healthy by remaining curious and by stretching our imaginations and few things enable us to do that better than by reading books – and as one study in the Times showed a couple of months ago – that while general curiosity declines with age, specific curiosity – such as learning through reading – actually increases after midlife, with benefits for brain health and well-being. You really can teach an old dog new tricks!
We have of course to recognise that there are very genuine barriers which prevent older people from keeping reading alive in their lives or even starting to read for the first time. One of those is the loss of public spaces for people to come together and what that means for the loss of social learning and exchange, but there are also practical issues which older readers face – but none of them cannot be addressed or dealt with.
Age-related eye changes – macular degeneration, contrast sensitivity and fatigue – make fine print and small font difficult so why are we printing less Large-Print books? While digital devices could help, many older adults feel anxious or lack confidence in using them; insufficient support leaves them preferring print – even if e-books might help access. We could improve lighting and produce more audiobooks and age sensitive podcasts which could all help overcome visual barriers and fatigue, making reading more accessible.
Even more critical and often ignored is the real prospect of developing geragogic learning and digital training. Older‑adult focused design education (geragogy) invites learners to set their own curriculum, with practical relevance and peer learning. Tailored support from digital educators helps older folks overcome technophobia with patience and practice.
On this August 9 – Book Lovers Day – let us affirm that reading in older age is far from a fading echo of youth. It’s a living presence: sparking curiosity, protecting memory, anchoring community, and offering lifespans richer in heart and mind.
Let us consider care facilities developing partnerships with public authorities or charities or businesses to have a small mini library open not to residents alone but to the wider community, including children and young people, not least in remote and rural parts of the country.
The challenges are real – vision, lack of location with the loss of libraries, technology, logistics – but the rewards, when older people are supported, are profound.
Reading isn’t a luxury – it is a potent companion for those years when wisdom and imagination can still flourish. As the poet W. B.Yeats, said in “When You Are Old”:
When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep;
How many loved your moments of glad grace,
And loved your beauty with love false or true,
But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you,
And loved the sorrows of your changing face;
And bending down beside the glowing bars,
Murmur, a little sadly, how Love fled
And paced upon the mountains overhead
And hid his face amid a crowd of stars.
So let us to take down the book in the later years – to read slowly, to remember, to dream – and in doing so, to live again the fullness of a life shaped by love and letters.
Donald Macaskill
