For many of us, certain childhood books have iconic status. It is not that they were necessarily the "best" or most literary children's books, nor just that we liked or even loved the books, but that they had and have an almost mystic meaning and status for us. We have never forgotten them, nor the feelings they engendered. For my brother Paul, for example, the book was "Shadow the Sheepdog," by Enid Blyton. His devotion to this book was part of our family lore; we teased him about it, but also recognized its seriousness. His copy of the book somehow got lost during our many family moves, and he mourned it. As an adult, he sporadically, for many years, tried to find a copy, without success; finally, the Internet allowed him to track down and purchase a copy. I recently asked him about his feelings about the book; below I quote an excerpt from his reply. (Thanks, Paul!)
"'Shadow the Sheepdog' was definitely iconic to me. I can't say all the reasons why I read and reread it so many times, but I suspect that it had to do with the fact that the book dealt with themes that children find fascinating - unconditional love, separation and reunion, unblemished heroism. I know that no one could have known how important that book was to me at the time; later I came to jokingly call it my 'Rosebud.' But there was an element of truth to the joke. I never did forget Shadow. When I finally obtained a copy of it so many years later, it gave me a satisfied feeling. I read a few chapters and realized that re-reading it wasn't really the point. Just knowing that I could re-read it was what made me happy. I plan to re-read it at some point, but I am very happy to be reunited with my beloved Shadow even if I never get around to it."
Readers: What were your iconic childhood books, your "Rosebuds"?
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The first books I think of are the Laura Ingalls Wilder books. My dad read them to us, and I can still hear his voice as he read the stories. I loved Laura, and she and her family seemed very real and even kin to me. I later read the books to my kids--one of whom is named, not coincidentally, Laura.
ReplyDeleteBut another book pops into my head, a book that seemed mine alone, and I read it over and over. It was called "Johnny Texas". It was about this little boy--who, as you might expect, lived in Texas. I was about 7, and my family had just moved from Texas all the way to Michigan, so I thought about Texas a lot. In the story, Johnny's father goes off to war--I think it was the Civil War. After some time, Johnny and his mother get word that his father had died in the war. This was heartbreaking to me--again it seemed very real to me. Then, at the end of the book, Johnny is standing out in his yard and from far away he sees a man walking...and he gets closer and closer...and yep you guessed it--it was Johnny's daddy and he was still alive!! Yahoo! Seriously, this was the most thrilling and happy ending of any book I have ever read. I remember around that time having had a sudden acute realization that my parents were really going to die someday, and this book was oddly, magically reassuring.
When I was very little, my father used to lie down next to me on my bed and read me to sleep. The problem was that he always fell asleep before I did, so it inspired me to learn to read very early.
ReplyDeleteAt that point in my life, there weren't "children's" books in my family, so the earliest books I heard came from the Harvard Classics; something my father worked to own through buying used books for many years. That said, Homer's Iliad and Odessey, and Arabian Nights were the first books I ever heard.
Later, it was Shakespeare's comedies.
When I did learn to read before kindergarten, my favorite books were My Father's Dragon, Dragon's of Blueland, and Elmer and the Dragon. And Peter Pan.
Once I went to elementary school and had access to the library, I went rather nuts. Peter and I both loved Paddle to the Sea, and all of the other books those authors wrote and illustrated (he was the first to know about them and sent me his childhood copy five years ago).
As much as I loved the elementary library at Roosevelt, given that I spent my elementary years since grade 2 being sent there during class), I always wanted to go to the high school library...so my librarian and teacher, Mrs. Collins, struck a deal with me in 2nd grade--if I could read every book in the elementary library, she would let me go into the high school library.
It took me until 5th grade to do that, but I read EVERY SINGLE BOOK and she made me write a summary of every book I read and then she sat down with me and grilled me on them.
I remember many books from that time..
And at the same time, I was reading books at home that my mother approved for me...Louisa May Alcott, for example...and of course, working my way through the Harvard Classics in the dim hope that my mother would let me buy a comic book someday...
What stands out for me is Tolkien (the trilogy), A Wrinkle in Time, a series with a title; The Saturdays, a book about how to make a garden (prophetic), and a book entitled "His Indian Brother."
That was elementary school.
I have omitted the confusion re: Tom Jones at that early age; it took me quite some time to understand that one!
I will say that my mother's early "heavy hand" helped me love literature, whether or not I understood it at the time.
And I never did get through Plato, etc. to be able to buy comic books!
She was right; once I could do that, I never had the interest.
Wow, Lusia, I knew that you were a reader, and that your parents were great readers, but I didn't know, or had forgotten, how MUCH you read as a child. That's a great story about the Roosevelt library!
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