Words From the Inside.

At one time or another, many of us have probably spent a quiet evening immersed in a good book. But for Roland, an inmate at the central unit of the Sugar Land Prison, opportunities like this are hard to come by.

For much of his time spent in prison, Roland has been limited by poorly stocked libraries, preventing him from obtaining both literary and educational books.

In a letter to the Inside Books Project, Roland explained that he loved to read adventure, mystery and sometimes even a crime novel. At the end of his letter, he expressed his gratefulness and hoped to receive a response soon.

Roland is not alone. Every month, over 700 other prisoners write to the Inside Books Project, each hoping to have a good book land in their hands.

For almost a decade, the Inside Books Project, a local non-profit organization, has mailed requested books to prisoners throughout the state of Texas. Run completely by volunteers, the project’s main goal is to help educate and rehabilitate inmates, according to volunteer Susannah Cummins.

“It’s about empowerment,” Cummins said. “We are kind of like the only resource for a lot of people.”

Only 85 out of 106 prison facilities in Texas have some sort of library facility, which does not guarantee inmates easy access to literature or educational text, Cummins explained.

“We’re not trying to reform prisons,” Cummins explained while looking up the status of inmates on the group’s database. “We’re trying to help prisoners.”

Located in East Austin, Inside Books is operated in a warehouse owned by the Rhizome Collective, a consensus-run, non-profit organization. Three times a week, volunteers gather at the Inside Books office to sort, open and respond to letters sent by prisoners. In their letters, inmates request different genres and educational text, from sci-fi and mystery novels to history textbooks and Spanish literature.

Sometimes, the letters themselves are works of literature. In one envelope, three enclosed poems described an inmate’s lost love and expressed his hope for a second chance at life. Another contained a sprawling, eccentric piece written by a prisoner dubbed “Blue Flame”, who flaunted his literary abilities while referring to himself in third person.

Inside one letter, an inmate explained how, like a majority of great poetry, he was misunderstood.

“Some of the greatest poetry ever written has always left room for interpretation and misses quite a few people,” the letter read.

Most of the letters are rather genuine; some repeat writers even addressed volunteer members directly, thanking them for their previous choices.

By providing books to inmates, there is a reduced chance that they will commit other crimes once released, said volunteer Dan White.

“It’s a unique opportunity for people to get more literate, educated, cultured, humane,” White explained. “Promoting literacy allows prisoners to develop personally, achieve understanding that they would not have otherwise if they didn’t have these books.”

Texas prisons currently do not allow family members of inmates to mail books, Cummins said, so some rely on Inside Books to relay the packages.

Prisons provide stringent rules on what may be sent to inmates, with bans on books which contain nudity or cover topics such as martial arts, Texas geography and homosexuality, said Amanda Brush, a collective volunteer. Sitting on the working table, a banned stack of books had a yellow label which said: “‘Prison Stories’ not allowed because they talk about prison gangs.”

Because Inside Books is not an actual book retailer, some prisons will not accept their packages, even though the project is affiliated with 12^th Street Books, a local book store which handles the shipping of inmate’s packages, according to volunteer Cummins.

To support expenses, Inside Books relies on small personal donations and fundraising events. Planet K, the organization’s single largest donor, has a donation jar by their register, while one man donates a majority of the office supplies, Cummins said.

Two days out of the year, Inside Books set up work days, where volunteers answer letters and mail books from Thursday afternoon to Sunday night. Held in the Rhizome warehouse, food is provided throughout the day, while local businesses sponsor volunteers for every package they wrap, Cummins said.

All volunteers are unpaid, so the majority of expenses come from postage costs. Almost 77 cents for every dollar is spent on postage, according to volunteer White.

Inside the volunteer room, hundreds of books are stacked in the bookcases and along the multi-colored walls. Art and torn posters fill in empty spaces on the walls, while holiday cards from inmates hang from the ceiling. Separated into genres, the collection is impressive, with books covering topics as diverse as queer studies and aeromechanics. Space is limited—volunteers are forced to squeeze past one another while searching for the perfect book.

Although the lack of space may be a drawback, the outcome surmounts being slightly uncomfortable, explained Edward Balaguer, an Anderson High School junior.

“It’s just helping people that really haven’t had the advantages that I had,” Balaguer said, after finding a requested Spanish textbook. “I’m trying to help them out whichever way I can.”

As diverse as the book selection are the volunteers that gather for work nights. Some come out for political reasons, while others volunteer because they want to help out, said volunteer Brush.

“People have various sorts of motivation,” said Brush, who first started volunteering for a class and ended up enjoying the project a lot. “You’re touching people directly.”

What people don’t realize is that not everyone is in prison for what they were convicted for, explained Brush.

Though volunteers can only provide books and letters, the communication is a necessary factor in supporting human normalcy, White indicated.

“A big part of it is providing human communication,” White said. “It’s worthwhile for them to know that they haven’t been forgotten.”

For some prisoners, the letters and books are their only link to the outside world, after family members and friends stop visiting, according to White. Some express this in their letters—handwritten words call out to a world that has nearly forgotten them. Writing to strangers at Inside Books, some ask for a second chance, while others state that they are losing hope.

In a few weeks, Roland will receive his books, two bestselling fictions, as well as a letter apologizing for the wait and asking him to write again. By providing communication to him and other inmates, Inside Books has allowed those incarcerated to believe that they can start over again, that they haven’t been forgotten, and that there really are second chances in life.