I don't have a copy of it but I hold a special place in my heart for "Teaching Johnny To Read," the book my dad used to teach me to read when I was four. I can remember the large rectangular cover, a blue/green background, the shiny surface that gradually gave way as I, then my brother, and others used it.
I have distinct memories of reading the Nancy Drew books, the Trixie Belden books, The Hardy Boys books, just about any book in which a kid had some agency to solve problems drew my attention. Later, as a teenager I discovered a 1936 copy "Gone With the Wind" which I discovered in our old house after we moved into it. I still have this copy. Years and many readings later, I see the story and the motivation for its existence very differently than I did when I first fell into it. I can still recall, however, how confused and thrilled I was when I encountered Scarlett O'Hara who was hard-headed, heartless, and resilient - not the typical romantic heroine I remember from other stories I read at the time. As a teenager, I was trying to figure out how women's power worked in the world: was it sex, was it money, was it intelligence? What, I wanted to know then, was a strong woman? Was it possible for a woman to need no one but herself to be successful? Why did that always mean giving up something -- usually love?
Oddly, it is the books I read to my son when he was an infant that I retain today. "The Jungle Book," "Where The Sidewalk Ends," and yes, "Winnie The Pooh" and all its sequels. I remember him at six months old settled in his father's lap and falling asleep to The Lord of the Rings, Louis L'Amour, and Conan the Barbarian. These I do not retain but it taught me that the content matters no where near as much as absorbing stories through the skin along with the beating heart, regular breaths, and familiar voice of a loving person.
The first book that influenced my thinking was “Thidwick, the Big-Hearted Moose,” by Dr. Seuss, which my parents read to me when I was four. It draws a clear line between generosity (which is good) and not being able to say no (not so good.) As an adult I was changed by Josef Skvorecky’s autobiographical novel “The Engineer of Human Souls.” After reading Skvorecky, who spent his formative years in Czechoslovakia under first the Nazis, then the Communists, before emigrating to Canada, I swore off all ideologies, all -isms, in favor of thinking through each issue on its own merits.
As for my writing, well, writers, like painters, musicians, and other artists and craftspeople, learn by imitating those they admire. During my teens and twenties, writing for newspapers and magazines, my role models included Kurt Vonnegut, Bernard Malamud, Hemingway, Nora Ephron, Joan Didion, and Annie Dillard; later in life, when I turned to poetry, my influences included Raymond Carver, Sharon Olds, Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Mark Strand, Anne Carson, and Charles Simic. Whether as a journalist, essayist, or poet, I try to keep in mind two maxims: 1) There is no place for wasted words, and 2) there is always room for humor. As Stephen King put it, “The road to Hell is paved with adverbs.”
Sandra is a great writer, also a wonderful big sister. She taught me to read at age three and of course, I read those same old books. I always said, she was the smart sister. Even now, we talk at least once a week, always sharing ‘what we’re reading currently.’
Gosh, so many books influenced me over the decades. And I agree with you, I still have piles of books I read to my daughter when she was young. They are comforting and it was such a simple time. One book that I read over and over in my early twenties (early 80’s) was Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith. I had panic attacks back then and this book felt like a comfort. It was so simple and there is a lot of compassion in the book, which I loved.
I, too, also loved Nancy Drew when I was young and still have a whole shelf of them. My daughter loved them too.
I loved a book when I was in elementary school and stumbled upon or at a thrift store. It is called, ‘Champions Don’t Cry’ by Nancy Gilbert. I used to spend hours hitting tennis balls against a wall behind a store when I was young. So the book really resonated with me. Just simple, honest books.
I love Sandra’s recollections of her childhood books -- I, too, have copies of my favorites -- even looking at them provides a rush of peace and happiness.
I still have a few books from my childhood, but they’re very well-worn paperbacks, not nearly as pretty as Sandra’s collection. One exception is my copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which I read as a teenager. It’s of a similar vintage, and will be on my shelf forever.
I love this sharing of stories about our beloved stories.
Sandra, I too read and write every day and I am so grateful. As a teacher my favorite thing to do is to share books with students and see the spark. Equally gratifying, is seeing them take pride in a piece of writing…Gifts I am grateful for.
As for books, I’m reading This Here Flesh now, and it’s powerful and important and a good reframe.
I like to write creative nonfiction so I enjoy reading memoirs and essays, but I also enjoy taking in at least one poem a day. Recently, I have been reflecting on “Who Understands Me But Me” by Jimmy Santiago Baca. When all was stripped to him, he found himself through reading and writing.
My love for children’s books will never tire. I never okay almost never as kids are if nothing but persistent read anything to my kids that I didn’t enjoy myself- I still reread those treasures... Our Friends at Maple Hill Farm, The Story of Ferdinand, Chrysanthemum and anything honestly by Kevin Henkes.
I also love Amy Kraus Rosenthal who wrote books for all ages reminding us to savor the ordinary.
When I want to escape, I read fiction and fantasy. My fav book of all time might be The Name of the Wind.
Each year I have my students reflect on their reading and writing life through a series of questions. I haven’t written about my journey through literature in a while.
I don't have a copy of it but I hold a special place in my heart for "Teaching Johnny To Read," the book my dad used to teach me to read when I was four. I can remember the large rectangular cover, a blue/green background, the shiny surface that gradually gave way as I, then my brother, and others used it.
I have distinct memories of reading the Nancy Drew books, the Trixie Belden books, The Hardy Boys books, just about any book in which a kid had some agency to solve problems drew my attention. Later, as a teenager I discovered a 1936 copy "Gone With the Wind" which I discovered in our old house after we moved into it. I still have this copy. Years and many readings later, I see the story and the motivation for its existence very differently than I did when I first fell into it. I can still recall, however, how confused and thrilled I was when I encountered Scarlett O'Hara who was hard-headed, heartless, and resilient - not the typical romantic heroine I remember from other stories I read at the time. As a teenager, I was trying to figure out how women's power worked in the world: was it sex, was it money, was it intelligence? What, I wanted to know then, was a strong woman? Was it possible for a woman to need no one but herself to be successful? Why did that always mean giving up something -- usually love?
Oddly, it is the books I read to my son when he was an infant that I retain today. "The Jungle Book," "Where The Sidewalk Ends," and yes, "Winnie The Pooh" and all its sequels. I remember him at six months old settled in his father's lap and falling asleep to The Lord of the Rings, Louis L'Amour, and Conan the Barbarian. These I do not retain but it taught me that the content matters no where near as much as absorbing stories through the skin along with the beating heart, regular breaths, and familiar voice of a loving person.
The first book that influenced my thinking was “Thidwick, the Big-Hearted Moose,” by Dr. Seuss, which my parents read to me when I was four. It draws a clear line between generosity (which is good) and not being able to say no (not so good.) As an adult I was changed by Josef Skvorecky’s autobiographical novel “The Engineer of Human Souls.” After reading Skvorecky, who spent his formative years in Czechoslovakia under first the Nazis, then the Communists, before emigrating to Canada, I swore off all ideologies, all -isms, in favor of thinking through each issue on its own merits.
As for my writing, well, writers, like painters, musicians, and other artists and craftspeople, learn by imitating those they admire. During my teens and twenties, writing for newspapers and magazines, my role models included Kurt Vonnegut, Bernard Malamud, Hemingway, Nora Ephron, Joan Didion, and Annie Dillard; later in life, when I turned to poetry, my influences included Raymond Carver, Sharon Olds, Mary Oliver, Billy Collins, Mark Strand, Anne Carson, and Charles Simic. Whether as a journalist, essayist, or poet, I try to keep in mind two maxims: 1) There is no place for wasted words, and 2) there is always room for humor. As Stephen King put it, “The road to Hell is paved with adverbs.”
Sandra is a great writer, also a wonderful big sister. She taught me to read at age three and of course, I read those same old books. I always said, she was the smart sister. Even now, we talk at least once a week, always sharing ‘what we’re reading currently.’
Gosh, so many books influenced me over the decades. And I agree with you, I still have piles of books I read to my daughter when she was young. They are comforting and it was such a simple time. One book that I read over and over in my early twenties (early 80’s) was Joy in the Morning by Betty Smith. I had panic attacks back then and this book felt like a comfort. It was so simple and there is a lot of compassion in the book, which I loved.
I, too, also loved Nancy Drew when I was young and still have a whole shelf of them. My daughter loved them too.
I loved a book when I was in elementary school and stumbled upon or at a thrift store. It is called, ‘Champions Don’t Cry’ by Nancy Gilbert. I used to spend hours hitting tennis balls against a wall behind a store when I was young. So the book really resonated with me. Just simple, honest books.
I love Sandra’s recollections of her childhood books -- I, too, have copies of my favorites -- even looking at them provides a rush of peace and happiness.
I still have a few books from my childhood, but they’re very well-worn paperbacks, not nearly as pretty as Sandra’s collection. One exception is my copy of A Tree Grows in Brooklyn, which I read as a teenager. It’s of a similar vintage, and will be on my shelf forever.
I love this sharing of stories about our beloved stories.
Sandra, I too read and write every day and I am so grateful. As a teacher my favorite thing to do is to share books with students and see the spark. Equally gratifying, is seeing them take pride in a piece of writing…Gifts I am grateful for.
As for books, I’m reading This Here Flesh now, and it’s powerful and important and a good reframe.
I like to write creative nonfiction so I enjoy reading memoirs and essays, but I also enjoy taking in at least one poem a day. Recently, I have been reflecting on “Who Understands Me But Me” by Jimmy Santiago Baca. When all was stripped to him, he found himself through reading and writing.
My love for children’s books will never tire. I never okay almost never as kids are if nothing but persistent read anything to my kids that I didn’t enjoy myself- I still reread those treasures... Our Friends at Maple Hill Farm, The Story of Ferdinand, Chrysanthemum and anything honestly by Kevin Henkes.
I also love Amy Kraus Rosenthal who wrote books for all ages reminding us to savor the ordinary.
When I want to escape, I read fiction and fantasy. My fav book of all time might be The Name of the Wind.
Each year I have my students reflect on their reading and writing life through a series of questions. I haven’t written about my journey through literature in a while.
This was a super fun prompt. 😊
My third grade teacher read The Boxcar Children to our class after lunch and I was enthralled. She was my favorite teacher, of course.
I read and reread Through the Looking Glass - such an imagination, such whimsy, such flare.
The Brothers Grimm fairy tales - some grim, but filled with original and determined children, which I aspired to be.
I must mention the Bible stories adapted for children, which seemed like fairy tales to me.
my favorite childhood book is 'snow' by p.d. Eastman, as it was the very first book I learned to read by myself and I will never forget that moment