As libraries turn into multipurpose cultural spaces and digital-infrastructure hubs, the functions and roles they take on within these walls are visibly expanding.

The first aspect of this change is how libraries are transforming their indoor spaces. Architecturally, libraries are moving away from enclosed reading rooms built solely for study and toward multipurpose cultural spaces that host exhibitions, discussions, play, childcare, creative work and exchange. Rather than remaining simple study halls, they aim to evolve into open cultural spaces that blend reading and relaxation, communication and discussion, exhibitions and lectures.

Take, for example, learning that was once confined to history lectures built around books. That has now expanded to a far more vivid experience in spaces like the National Library of Korea’s “Shilgam Seojae” (Immersive Library). Step into this hybrid archive-and-exhibition space, and the customs and knowledge of the past unfold before your eyes; history once understood only intellectually becomes an experience that awakens all five senses.

The National Library of Korea has also drawn an enthusiastic response by running an AI Literacy Academy that covers digital-information-skills education, AI art classes and text-mining instruction. Following its lead, other libraries are actively rolling out programs built around generative AI and digital creative infrastructure, putting real effort into diversifying their content to keep pace with the AI era.

The second change is that libraries are increasingly functioning as havens, or refuges, for the mind. For people living in an age of relentless connectivity, libraries have become one of the few remaining places to protect their sense of individuality, away from social media and smartphones. In effect, they serve as spaces for digital detox—citizens use their short lunch breaks to seek out nearby libraries surrounded by nature, where they can step away from constant connection and take time to look inward. The pleasant views and distinctive architecture found at most nature-friendly libraries are what draw people in.

Notable examples include the Cheongun Literature Library and the Yun Dong-ju Literature Museum, both located in the Seochon neighborhood. Seochon is a historic area near Gyeongbokgung Palace in central Seoul. The Samcheong Park Forest Library, located near Bukchon, is also considered a prime example of a nature-friendly library in the heart of the city. Originally a park concession stand, the building was converted into a library, and simply walking around its surroundings is said to have a calming effect. Baebongsan Forest Library is another well-known example of a nature-friendly library.

The third trend is a move toward thematically specialized libraries that add cultural depth. Korean libraries are increasingly evolving toward specialized curation in fields such as art, music, literature and ecology. The Uijeongbu Art Library, for instance, stands out as a leading example of a specialized library connecting books and art, citizens and art, artists and the library itself. It once organized an archival exhibition on the Sinsasilpa (New Realism Group) under the title “Paintings Alighting on Books,” showcasing a space where books become art and the library becomes a gallery—an idea that spread by word of mouth not only through Uijeongbu and Seoul but as far as the bookstore district of Tokyo.

Cheongun Literature Library, mentioned earlier, is a library designed in the style of a Hanok (traditional Korean house), offering a place for reading, reflection and quiet walks. Visitors can take in poetry, novels and essays—the library’s focus—while listening to the sound of a nearby waterfall. The literary programs held there, including poetry readings, are planned and led by professional writers themselves, making the space especially beloved among young literature lovers.

Libraries are trusted institutions that anyone can walk into. This shift in how library spaces operate first and foremost helps ease the country’s deep social polarization. Unlike cafes or shared offices, which require payment and function as exclusive, closed-off spaces, libraries are open cultural spaces available to everyone—and by offering high-quality cultural experiences to all, they help narrow that divide.

Libraries are among the few institutions that actively welcome those most affected by the digital divide. Many libraries run content-production facilities suited to the new media environment, and users receive hands-on training in creating their own content. On the substantive side, digital-era literacy education doesn’t shy away from the negative aspects either—deepfakes, the misuse of artificial intelligence—guiding people to acquire the skills this era truly demands. It stands as clear evidence that, in the AI era, libraries are becoming centers for re-educating the public.

There’s a saying that one good library can revive an entire region. It may sound like a joke, but the term “dosegwon”—a Korean neologism referring to residential areas where a nearby library makes cultural facilities more accessible—reflects the growing recognition of libraries as valuable community assets. Korea’s libraries are actively working to build up and advance local culture. If libraries can stand as landmarks in their communities and help form and grow those communities, they may even help push back against the decline of smaller regional areas.

The transformation of libraries shows no signs of stopping. Whether in architecture or in their evolution into multipurpose spaces serving as hubs for knowledge, culture and information, this change is perhaps simply the natural course of things. Libraries are ready to take on whatever changes and challenges lie ahead. Their potential is boundless.

Writer Park Hyun-joo
Park is the lead planner of The LIVERARY (theliverary.kr), a web magazine for librarians and library users. The publication pursues the public value of connecting libraries with people and building a better culture of reading and libraries.