When I was young, my mother bought me a beautiful leather
bound illustrated edition of Edgar Allan Poe’s Tales of Mystery and Imagination.
I suppose such works might be considered rather dark for an eight-year-old
girl, but I devoured and adored those tales.
It was probably this book, more than any other, which made me fall in
love with the world of fiction and all its wonderment. Actually, she bought this book for my
brother, and gave me the Arabian Nights,
but I preferred Poe, just as I too prefer to tell this story slant. Regardless of who was truly the recipient of
that book, it remains a treasure of mine, and now sits on my bookshelves.
My brother and I were both avid readers in our youth,
sharing all the childhood classics like J.R.R. Tolkien and C.S. Lewis. She also bought us annotated versions of
classic tales such as Moby Dick, Treasure Island, A Tale of Two Cities, Pride
and Prejudice, and the like. It was
a charming and appropriately age adapted collection that I was so sad to learn
she had donated to Goodwill years ago. I
would have been positively delighted if my children were now able to read those
very same editions. Despite this one disappointment,
I cannot possibly thank my mother enough for instilling a love of reading in
me.
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| What was your favorite childhood book? |
I believe it is incredibly important that we read to our
children, and I have most certainly made this a priority in our household. As today celebrates International Children’s Book Day, it is an appropriate occasion to reflect upon my own memories with
the written word, as I now continue to build a strong adoration of literature
in my own two children.
Although she is only age three, I have already introduced
Emily to Tolkien and Lewis. She was a
very attentive audience as I read The
Hobbit aloud to her, asking quite insightful questions about the dragon,
and continually requesting, “You let me see that map again, Momma,” turning to
the front of the book and analyzing the illustrated cover pages, “So this where
that dragon live, Momma?” Only once did
she bore of the story and wish to retire to bed early, stating, “No more this
Bilbo story!”
Currently, Emily and I have been reading The Chronicles of Narnia together. We are on book five of the seven book
series. She will race into bed with me
at night and ask, “Can we read some more about Shasta and the horsy, Momma?” During books two and three, this question
was, “Momma, you ready to read to me about Reepicheep?” Her excitement and enthusiasm over these
tales gives me immense delight.
Emily is my little Lucy Pevensie, with a heart and mind full
of the wonder of youth and the wisdom of age.
She constantly amazes me, and I wish I could capture her innocent wonder
and trust, just as C.S. Lewis captured the valiant
traits of Lucy on the pages of his beloved fictional books.
As you are likely aware, the world of Narnia was also
captured on film with the 2005 release of The
Lion, The Witch, and the Wardrobe, starring Tilda Swinton. It was this past weekend that I first viewed
this film. My parents had a copy of it
among their DVDs and my daughter noticed it and requested to watch “the Aslan
movie.” The film has slightly more
exposition than the novel, beginning with scenes of the Second World War, and
the Blitz bombings which led to the children’s evacuation to the
countryside. As the scenes rolled across
the television screen, Emily informed her grandfather, “Grandpa, I think this
the wrong movie. Where is the magic? Where is Aslan?” We told her to be patient, and her beloved
Aslan did soon appear, much to her great excitement. “It’s Aslan!” she squealed in delight, “There
he is!” When the youngest Pevensie first
appeared on screen, she eagerly asked, “Is that Lucy? Lucy is my favorite!”
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| Lucy is my favorite too. |
As the film closed and the credits began to roll, my
daughter looked to my spouse to question, “That’s it, Daddy? I don’t want this movie done. Where is Reepicheep? I want to see
Reepicheep!” Reepicheep, the mighty
mouse, does not appear until the tales of Prince Caspian in the second book of
the series. However, I found it extremely
clever and so deeply endearing that my daughter remembered these characters and
made such comments during the film.
While my daughter rules my world and melts my heart on the
daily, I did not compose this post merely to brag about what a kick-ass mommy I
am and what a “totes-adorb” toddler I have (she is so damn cute, though, you
guys). I do not believe or mean to propose that she is a child genius or savant. I do strongly believe, however, that reading
has enhanced her imagination, her academic aptitude, and her whole life. I know
reading has imparted unto me such rich rewards. A beautiful, bold imagination and a curious,
sharp mind are not unattainable skills bestowed only upon the most genetically brilliant. A child need only to be provided with the offering
of reading and he or she can too possess a daring imagination and tireless
thirst for knowledge. Therefore, this
post serves as a public service announcement requesting that all parents
bequest onto their children the vision, creativity, and ingenuity that are
yielded from a love of reading.
Go forth and read, my friends!
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