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On May 10, 1933, books were burned in Babelplatz.
By students.
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In April of that same year, many supporters of the regime announced that books incompatible with the Nazi ideology ought to be destroyed. The May 10th burning stands out as the largest, but the burnings continued for months.

One of my favorite memorials in Berlin now commemorates the incredible loss of those books. Those who wish to see it have to get close to the ground to see it underneath the square.

Covered by thick glass, huge empty bookshelves, large enough to hold the books that no longer exist, stand empty to remind us what is now gone. It's haunting to see, and as someone with packed bookshelves at home, it evokes the chilling absence simply and eloquently.

This past weekend, June 17 + 18, Babelplatz hosted the Berlin Bücherfest (book festival) under deep blue skies and temperatures high enough to burn the participants, if not the books. Thankfully, I'd coated my vampire skin in SPF 50.

As I walked through the square, it struck me again what a book-loving culture Germany and Berlin are. As of 2018, Berlin counted 236 bookstores for our nearly 4 million inhabitants. Given that bookshops were considered an essential service and could remain open during most of lockdown, the number is more likely to have increased than decreased in recent years.

This comforts me tremendously as I watch censorship ablaze in the American media. Characteristics of books likely to be banned in the US sound familiar when reflecting on the history of my adopted country. Goebbels, minister of propaganda, called out in an address leading up to the events in Berlin, "Yes to decency and morality in family and state! I consign to the flames the writings of Heinrich Mann, Ernst Gläser, Erich Kästner." Kästner is a favorite childhood author of most of our German friends.

And yet. From this level of fanaticism, we now have a book festival in its place. Walking through the aisles of tents, I saw books not only in German, but in Arabic, Turkish, English and more, encompassing the languages of many foreign residents of Berlin and beyond.

It doesn't need to get this bad. We don't need to lose 25,000 books like the ones that were burned May 10, 1933.

Many of us ask ourselves how we can be so indulgent as to spend our time writing books when there are so many disasters looming around the world, from climate change and natural disasters, to rising costs of living and the war in Ukraine to personal struggles we all face.

This is why.

When we take a stand for books, we are taking a stand for everyone's story to get included. Even the ones we don't agree with, and the ones that don't look the same as our own.

We stand up for writing when we write ourselves, and when we read more widely and support stories we might not choose as part of our regular TBR list.

Try something new. Read a banned book. And most of all, don't ban yourself from writing. Let's fill the shelves with new stories that we want the world to remember.

I don't usually stray into politics in this letter, but when books are involved, I need to speak.

Recently, I read an author's response to being banned, which was, loosely paraphrased:

This sums up my thoughts, and after thirty minutes of searching, I cannot find the source. My apologies. If any kind reader can hit reply and tell me who said this and the correct phrasing, I would be most grateful.

May your writing go well this week. Keep the channel open, as Martha Graham wisely said. We need all the stories more than ever.

xx,
Caroline

PS. I still have at least one spot available for individual work this summer. Learn more and book a consult to discuss working together here.

Caroline Donahue
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​A Writing Coach, host of The Secret Library podcast, and a writer of fiction and nonfiction myself, I'm ready to help you build the writing life that works for you. Let's talk about your book, your routine, your dreams and take you from dream to finished manuscript. Let's get you writing!​