A Confession

It all started with a sense of guilt. That vague, creeping kind that piles up on the nightstand alongside the books you buy, nod approvingly at on the way home, and then never open.

The obvious solution would have been to pick up one of those books and read it. Instead — with the logical consistency that defines me — I decided to build an interactive visualization of loan data from Milan's municipal libraries.

The rationalization came immediately: I'm getting closer to reading. I'm studying who reads, what they read, when they read it. It's research. It's culture. It's certainly better than watching Netflix — although, come to think of it, it took about as long as a full season.

Meanwhile, scrolling through the City of Milan's datasets, I came across hundreds of titles and authors I didn't know. Books that intrigued me, names I jotted down, monthly rankings I analyzed with an attention I've rarely given to an actual printed text. Not that I have nothing to read. Quite the opposite: the list grew in inverse proportion to the number of books actually read.

The City of Milan publishes library loan data in open format. The data is clean, rich, and strangely fascinating: it reveals collective tastes, seasonal habits, differences between neighbourhoods. It's also a timely reminder of how many people, every month, find time to go to the library and read a book. Things I, for now, have sublimated into bar charts.

"Procrastination is the art of appearing productive while doing exactly what you want." — Giacomo, to himself

This project didn't make me read more. But it made me realize that Milan reads quite a lot, that Sormani is a remarkable place, and that there are books on every conceivable subject — including, probably, an essay on procrastination I'll never read.

Meanwhile, if you'd like to explore what Milan reads — and perhaps find the next book you won't read either — you're in the right place.

Giacomo