It occurs to me that this is a book blog, and I ought to post about books occasionally.
I’ve already told you pretty much everything I know about writing. I’ll probably be recycling that stuff again after a while, but not quite yet.
So I’ll write about books.
You want to know about books that were important to me growing up, don’t you? Sure you do.
The first book I recall vividly is one of those Golden Books that were so popular back then (do they still have those? Not that I actually care.) It was about Davy Crockett, with pictures based on scenes from the Disney series. I think the Davy Crockett craze happened simultaneously with the arrival of sentience in my life, so I imprinted on Davy Crockett with great intensity. I don’t actually recall seeing the programs on their first showing, but I remember very vividly the Crockett stuff I had. Aside from the book, my brother Moloch and I both had Crockett caps and tee-shirts. I also remember some kind of jigsaw puzzle or board game.
There’s a family legend that I was able to read the Davy Crockett book at a very young age. This was an illusion. The truth was that I had memorized the entire text, and I could recite it by page.
I still have a soft spot for Congressman Crockett, whatever kind of hat he actually wore.
Strangely, I don’t have much clear memory of my other kids’ books, although I’m confident we had a fair number. The next book that really caught my interest (helped by the fact that I could actually read by the time it showed up) was a book called What Cheer?, an anthology of light verse edited by David McCord and published by The New American Library.
The book was actually a Christmas gift to my mother, as I recall, but I was the one in the family who seized on it and spent hours and hours in its pages. Bear in mind that this was grown-up, pretty sophisticated poetry, originally published in journals like The New Yorker or Punch, a lot of which was definitely unsuited to my age. But I escaped corruption through my inability to understand more than maybe an eighth of what I was reading. It didn’t matter to me. I loved the play of words. I loved the jokes, when I got them, or thought I did. I loved the rhythm of the stuff, and the challenge of big words I didn’t know yet. We didn’t have a lot of books in our house, but I think that one was what made me a writer. I still have a copy (though not that particular one, as it happens).
The other published work I’d have to count was The Universal Standard Encyclopedia, published by Funk & Wagnall. My folks bought it one volume at a time, at Nelson’s Super Valu grocery store in Faribault, Minnesota. It was not a premier reference work, but it was what we had, and I took advantage of it. I did not read the books through. I took down volumes at random, and high-graded them for stuff that interested me. I picked up a lot of odd facts that came in handy from time to time throughout the years of my education.
That’s enough for tonight. Have a good weekend.
It would be interesting to see comments from others about early reading experiences. When our generation were kids in the early to mid-Sixties or so, young people’s books were a well-established part of the publishing market and I think it was widely believed by people of our parents’ generation that reading was good for kids. Golden Books, Whitman Classics, and probably others were often easy to come by.
I have quite a collection of Golden Books and Whitman Classics. I remember reading them as a child, reading them to my children and now reading them to my grandchildren.
When I find them cheap and in poor condition I use them to decoupage gifts for other ‘kids’ who remember those books with fondness.
I’m a big fan of the artwork of Eloise Wilkins and Marjorie Cooper.
I think Golden Books are still readily available. At least, I’ve seen them around. I see that they are 65 years old now.
The earliest book I remember is a Winnie-the-Pooh book of four selected tales. I received it from my grandmother when I was four years old. This may be the reason I’ve always loved Winnie-the-Pooh.
Another early book I enjoyed, though I don’t remember any details about which book it was, had to do with the trials of Hercules. I remember reading them and loving it, but I don’t remember how old I was or anything about the book.
What cheer? Good cheer!