Into the temple of the written word

A child reads in Liyuan Library, a striking example of modern architecture in Jiaojiehe village near Beijing.[Photo by Zou Hong/China Daily]

"There's no need to use protection," he said. "And if accidents happen, protection doesn't help you; it just, makes matters worse."

Zhou and his family live within a few stone throws of the library and said he grows chestnuts and fruit trees on a mountain southwest of the library. His wife is a homemaker and his son is training to be an electrician. To make ends meet, Zhou said, he occasionally does work on building sites, but he donates his time to the library.

"Sometimes, Li Xiaodong (the library's architect) will come and look around. It's been two weeks since I saw him. Usually if there's something wrong I'll take photos and send them to him and he tells me what I need to do."

The 170-square-meter library itself pays homage not only to books at a time when many people are convinced that, in the ink form at least, they are in the twilight of their lives, but to the planet as well. There is no electricity, no tap water and no air-conditioning, the temperature being kept at a pleasant level through a cool trick with firewood sticks on the exterior of the glass walls that also help with light.

Entering the library you may be forgiven for thinking that you are entering a church, a temple or some other sacred place. There is a distinct reverential air, and visitors are asked to remove their shoes. There are "No photos" signs, too, but that does not stop many visitors whipping out their mobile devices－the very ones that may be helping to kill books－to record their visit for posterity. The justification seems to be: "If we are to spend a few minutes here after a long, tiring journey on a sweltering summer's day we deserve at least a picture or two."

Finally we could savor the heart and the raison d'etre of the architectural masterpiece that has won for Li Xiaodong international acclaim, including his being awarded the inaugural Moriyama Prize by the Royal Architectural Institute of Canada and the architect Raymond Moriyama last October, and the CAD$100,000 ($76,000) that went with it.

The books are not classified, and the only library staff are several villagers, including Zhou Liming and Wang Fuying, 55.

Wang had stood at the entrance waiting for us. Her granddaughter, 7, also helps in the library. Wang's duties include organizing books ("The only books we classify are children's books and English books") and politely requesting any noisy visitors to lower their voices and children to stop running around.