"Literature" Versus "literature"

I recently walked into a specialty book shop and spotted a copy of Edward Lear's the Owl and the Pussy Cat gracing the shelf. As I excitedly made my purchase, my family gave me a "what's the big deal look" the whole time. As I read the book in the car, (I couldn't even wait until we pulled away from the curb) my son yelled out "this is some junk." I guess he didn't care too much for the lines "What a wonderful Pussy you are, you are, what a wonderful Pussy you are." I on the other had, I was giddy as I read the book. There are other books from childhood that produce the same excitment from me. Those stories are: Corduroy, Seuss's books (especially Green Eggs and Ham and One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish), Runaway Bunny (sorry, Monta already mentioned this story, but it is a favorite), and a certain book that I remember loving, but can't remember the title. It featured an animal; I believe it was some type of bird making split pea soup.

In elementary my favorite author was R.L Stine with the Goose Bumps and Fear Street series. I also read a lot of the titles that my blogmates have listed. Around this age, I even crossed into adult books, reading authors such as Dean R Koontz, Tom Clancy, and Danielle Steele (who was probably a little inappropriate for me at that age).

While my blogmates passed around books that have stood the test

of time, I was trading Harlequin Romance novels. I have literally read a thousand of them, since I would sometimes go through 2-3 a day. My cousin and I would lie in bed on opposite sides, then we'd switch books when we were done. In high school, I was exposed to more substantive material: Shakespeare, Madeline L'Engle, and John Steinbeck, to name a few, though out of class I always had a romance novel in hand.

In college I was told by more than one professor that these books were absolute junk, so I became ashamed of my reading habits and started to indulge in more quality "Literature." I have to admit that they were partly right. Once I put down romance novels, I started picking up more quality works. Some of which have become my all time favorites. I read Pride and Prejudice 2-3 times a year, I cry every time I read Withering Heights, and am still intrigued that Lady Chatterley's Lover was scandalous when published and banned for 30 years.

These days, my reading choices vary greatly from Shakespeare to Twilight, and everything in between. My favorite children's book author is Mo Willems. Go Pigeon! But I love horror, romance, and fantasy. And if you can combine the three, you have made a fan of me. My bookshelves are filled with "Literature" with a capitol L, books I have come to love and treasure, but I still have a guilty pleasure. There are several storage bins, hidden away from every day view, filled with romance novels. I've learned that it is okay to read one every now and then, as long as this is done in moderation, and out of sight of condescending educators.

Urania-

Books From Back in the Day

Apparently before I could truly read, my parents would allow me to fool my grandparents by “reading” some of my little books aloud to them. In actuality I had memorized every word and where each turn of the page occurred. I know I was read to as a child and eager to have that independence of doing it myself. The stories I remember from when I was very young are the Little Golden Books--I always felt bad for the Pokey Little Puppy. And, like Ellen, I had a book of fairytales for which I remember the colorful illustrations almost as well as the stories--Cinderella, The Shoemaker and the Elves, Sleeping Beauty, and Rumpelstiltskin. Rapunzel was in a different book, I think, and I was fascinated by that tale as well. It’s fun to re-visit some of these as an adult by reading something like Politically Correct Bedtime Stories. Dr. Seuss was always fun. (And fun in college when the first gift i gave my new boyfriend, now husband, was The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, since he was upset that I was going to a dance with someone else the night of his dorm’s Christmas party, to which he had forgotten to actually invite me.)

In elementary school, the poems of Shel Silverstein totally cracked me up. Then I read his book The Giving Tree as an adult and totally wept. I also read a lot of Beverly Cleary, The Beezus and Ramona books, and then many many Nancy Drew books--it takes about one second for my brain to pull up the images of titian hair, green sedans, “tomboy” George and “plump” Bess. I thought it was so cool when my older cousin gave me her ND books--they were old musty hardcovers with the black edging around the pages. The Secret in the Old Clock! The Hidden Staircase! And I remember everyone in my class loved the book Superfudge. Elementary school also had the book order forms every couple of months and trips to the local library’s book sales.

By junior high I wasn’t as much into following a whole series of books. I read some of the Anastasia books from Lois Lowry, maybe a couple of the scary Lois Duncans. I loved a book called The Girl with the Silver Eyes (a smart girl with super powers!) and I really liked What Katy Did. I remember some of the mandatory books for classes: My Side of the Mountain, Sounder, Where the Red Fern Grows, Bridge to Terabithia (how could the teacher make us cry like that?), even How to Eat Fried Worms.

In high school I was very affected by Elie Wiesel’s Night and adored The Count of Monte Cristo. Senior year brought the Canterbury Tales and Hamlet, and I chose The Catcher in the Rye for a term paper. (Salinger just passed away a couple weeks ago and there is still so much intrigue associated with him and that book.) By high school I was involved in so many activities and my classes were so demanding that I didn’t have much time to read for fun. I did work in a bookstore my senior year of high school, so I got the torture of browsing all the books I wished I had time to read. I do remember making time for the non-fiction book Friday Night Lights, however, and being obsessed with it, as my love of football in general was quite strong by then. (I liked the movie that was based on it, and I love the tv series that was inspired by it.)

Wow--it’s funny how much you can remember about the things you read as a kid, how they made you feel, and how you see that you have revisited some of them as an adult. It seems like the pure joy of reading was greatest in the early years, elementary, and junior high. Reading the Harry Potter books brought back that feeling. When they first started coming out, I was working as a school social worker, and my students from elementary through high school were reading the books, eagerly anticipating the next in the series. It was so much fun to share it with them and have an excuse to have HP items around my offices (it helps me better connect with the kids!). As a parent it is special to relive the classics with my son and discover all the new books out there. He absolutely loves “stories” and has memorized a couple short books that he reads to us. He is only a young four, and he expresses frustration that he can’t yet read by himself. I feel like his enjoyment of reading and eventual reading skills are more important than any academic area. Right now reading for him is associated with parent-child time, the joy of a book received as a gift, the independence of getting to choose his own books or use the computer for interactive books, and at preschool an opportunity to contribute answers or opinions since he loves to talk. Maybe someday he, too, will have the inspiration to write and will be much more successful than his mother at bringing ideas to fruition!

Read to Write, Right?

Anyone else a (water) closet reader? Books and magazines, of course, but I admit to soap labels, shampoo bottles, the DANGER tag on my blower dryer, those teeny papers that come with OTC medication. My eyes never stop searching for some letters to put together!

So as writers hoping to inspire a new generation, what did we read growing up?

Our house was full of books. Every noontime my mother accompanied the soup-and-sandwich-for-picky-eaters with a book: Little Golden Books, A.A. Milne, Ogden Nash, Robert Louis Stevenson. "Now eat one more bite and I'll read the next page..."

Once I could read on my own I was a fan of those turquoise bound biographies no one else ever checked out: Juliette Lowe, Clara Barton, Louisa May Alcott. Vacations were the only time we were allowed comic books, my mother figuring the quiet in the back seat was worth whatever dip in intellectual stimulation we were sure to experience! As peer pressure for Noticing the Opposite Sex increased, I read my way through the Romances of the Month, living vicariously through Sheri and Bobby as on the third date their "hands touched and his lips grazed her cheek." Swoon!

The only book I was inspired by in high school was The Heart is a Lonely Hunter.

I keep meaning to write big heavy books about theological issues or Parish Life matters, but the lure of a creating a rhyming text about Bush Dancers in the Australian outback is calling me. What rhymes with wombat?