Nicole asked if I would write about my current thoughts on books that influenced me when I was a kid. I would love to write that post.
My earliest memory of a book comes from reading A Wrinkle in Time at a ridiculously early age. A lot of it went over my head but I loved it anyway, and I went back to it again and again along with the other books from the Murry-Austin universe. (Team Austin all the way, baby. I wanted to slip inside that family and stay there -- a family where grownups re-read Anna Karenina for fun (Vicky's mom, a fellow homebirther) and didn't mind living in unorthodox quarters as long as they had room for their books (Vicky's grandfather).) As an adult I read an article critical of Madeleine L'Engle -- New Yorker, maybe? -- and it did dampen my enthusiasm for her books. But the idea that the geeky girl can find understanding despite her glasses grabbed my attention early on, and the image of Earth struggling under a palpable shadow dispelled by the likes of Jesus and Copernicus is one that continues to resonate.
When I was a little bit bigger I started reading the Little House books, and I spent the next five years or so reading and re-reading them. Oh my, did those books capture my imagination. I had my own sunbonnet. I yearned to be named Mary. I even read the parts about the workings of homemade hinges and latches over and over, because I wanted to understand them. Things I still love about LIW: fictional-Laura's absolute trust in her parents, the persistent idea of happiness that transcends circumstances, the theme of small-but-mighty girl doing her duty even when she doesn't super-want to. Things I don't love about LIW: racism, un-subtle political messages, and 19th-century parenting. Like, come on, Pa, why does Mary get off scot-free when she insults Laura? The sting of Laura's slap was sure to fade quickly; the smart of Mary's words lingered for years. Even years later, after Mary was dead, Laura was able to write compellingly about how they hurt her. I shake my head at Pa for a number of reasons (don't borrow money to build that house on Plum Creek, Pa! don't do it!), but that one looms large.
And then came junior high! Junior high was dismal in many ways, but I had the run of the library. My locker, which I shared with occasional commenter Angela, was right across from the library entrance and I think I must have been in there all the time. In my mind's eye the Hogwarts library is in just the same spot: at the top of a staircase, watched over by someone who looks a lot like Mrs. Swecker. That's where I discovered Watership Down and To Kill A Mockingbird. Junior high is when my dad got me started reading Mark Twain; he also gave me the Chronicles of Narnia when I was in sixth or seventh grade. And! Oh! In sixth grade a friend of mine told me about Anne Shirley. If I start talking about those books I'll be writing for a long time. I'll have to write another installment.
I am off to bed but tell me about you-- what are THE books of your childhood? How have they held up across the years?
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