Over the past year or so I've had to give more talks than is good for me, at book festivals and in libraries and wherever else there was felt a need for a discussion of the Battle of Flodden.

Normally at such events clapping only breaks out at the very end, when listeners are about to be liberated and can express their relief in the usual way.

I was therefore struck when, while speaking at Edinburgh Central Library in February, I mentioned how badly I was missing the Scottish Department, which had been closed for refurbishment for well over a year. At this, the Reference Department, more commonly a haven of quiet, burst into applause. One man even cheered.

Clearly, I wasn't alone in my frustration. Because of unforeseen structural problems, I'm told, the Scottish Department had been out of bounds for far longer than the promised few months. To some of us, this was like an amputation - maybe only a toe, but important nevertheless. Obviously the National Library of Scotland contains most or all of the books held in Central Library, but very few are on the open shelf.

What was so satisfying about the old Scottish Department was its well-stocked reference section, and its equally full ranks of borrowable books. Yet for what felt like an interminable period, one could not drop by for a pleasurable browse, or to check something quickly and easily. I also missed its atmosphere, the wobbly wooden desks, one per reader, and the sound of rain against its windows, high above the cavernous Cowgate.

Thankfully, the months of waiting are at an end. Last Saturday was the official open day for the revitalised Central Library, many of whose departments have been upgraded. I made a visit, keen to see what transformations had been made, but in particular to reconnect with the beloved old Scottish shelves.

First impressions were good. The Children's Library has been moved closer to Victoria Street, and opens right onto the street. Its rooms are airy, well furnished and imaginatively decorated. Anyone with a child who likes books would be happy here.

The Music Library, formerly in a dingy basement below the children's department, is now in the main building, on one side of the mezzanine floor where the Edinburgh Room used to be. Its books and scores and recordings are thus now much more accessible, although its CDs are scrappily labelled and presented in drawers more appropriate to a seed-merchant than a good library. As if to compensate for this inadequacy, however, there is a digital piano anyone can use (presumably with headphones). Also, there's a coffee vending machine.

The rest of the mezzanine seems to be still in slight disarray, but when it is fully finished it will be an appealing public and exhibition space. Light-filled and modern, it is a striking improvement in terms of appearance, as well as for attracting a wider audience to the delights of the Music Library, which previously was too easily overlooked.

And so finally I reached what for me is the heart of Central Library. I've been using the Scottish Department since I was a teenager, awed at a visit to the city, and later, making sneak visits during the few months I worked in the bowels of the building in Accessions.

Perhaps because of this sentimental attachment, I felt dismay at the new-look floor. Now also housing the Edinburgh Room, it is both more spacious and more empty. Gone are the old-fashioned desks, replaced by functional tables for two or four. Gone too are many of the books, consigned to stacks in the basement, meaning librarians are in a constant state of scurrying.

In the past, the olde-worlde mood of this Victorian room matched its historic collection. I expect I'll get used to it, but much of the charm has disappeared with the banished books, who have taken with them the sense of sombre studiousness I so loved. Now, like Central Library itself, I suppose readers like me have no choice but to embrace the modern age.