Next week, November 9-15, is Children’s Book Week, created all the way back in 1919. I hope you’ll join me in celebrating (there are some wonderful resources here to help!)
Because—after all—what could be better or more worth honoring?
The Victorian poet Elizabeth Barrett Browning observed that “the world of books is still the world,” and it’s fascinating to reflect on the ways that reading shapes our character and attitudes. Even a small review of what we might call our bibliographic autobiographies gives so much insight into our lives, where we came from and, perhaps equally, where we’ve ended up.
I think, for example, of my earliest favorite, Miss Suzy, with text by Miriam Young and pictures by Arnold Lobel of Frog and Toad fame. Published just a few years before I was born, it’s a story about a grey squirrel, contentedly living in her lovely little treehouse, who is driven away by mean red squirrels. Moving into the attic with a dollhouse, Miss Suzy is kind to the toy soldiers she meets there, and they, in turn, help restore her to her house. Perhaps it’s unsurprising that, as an Army brat, I enjoyed the way the soldiers were helpers. But even more, at 4 years old I loved the Miss Suzy got her house restored so that she could live by herself again. Maybe that’s why all these years later, I still relish living contentedly alone in my own house surrounded by woods, just like Miss Suzy.
It’s true for genres, too. I have a lifelong love of mysteries, begun early with Nancy Drew and Encyclopedia Brown, as well as books with historical settings—fiction and non. Not only did I have a grandmother who lives in a sod house on the Nebraska prairie, but as a child of the Bicentennial, I could not get enough of Little House on the Prairie and any book that featured a young girl in the wild. Along with classics, such as Little Women, I also gravitated towards what one might call comic novels of everyday life, such as anything by the much loved Beverly Cleary. To this day, my reading stack still tends towards each of these early interests.
All of which to say: I can’t imagine my childhood without books. I was that child who frequently finished her work early—and then, enjoyed socializing with her neighbors. For this behavior, several related remedies were on offer. First, I could do more in-class reading with that fixture of the 1970s classroom the SRA Reading Laboratory, color-coded self-paced reading exercises. Fine, but not the most exciting thing ever. Though I was competitive and enjoyed finishing box after box, the literary merits weren’t particularly memorable. (Also: what a nerd to do extra work! My life in academia was clearly set up early.)
But there were other options: every day as I left the house, my mother would always enquire if I “had my book” (or if I was near finishing, she’d insist I take two books in my bag). I was encouraged to build habits where I used reading to build inner resources, like self-discipline. And, because I did love reading and would devour a big stack of books each week, I grew to appreciate this class time to pursue what I wanted to learn.
Finally, when my work was done, my teachers often gave me the option of going to “visit” the school librarian: Dr. Banner when I lived in Korea and Miss Elder in Oklahoma. What a treat! I loved to trot over and hang out with both of these women, who always seemed to enjoy conversations with an exuberant, bookish girl. They were so gracious with their time and interest, and they both encouraged even more nerdy delight through our discussions and their resulting book recommendations.
And maybe that’s the most important thing to celebrate in a week devoted to Children’s Books—the way that books bring us together. Reading is great, but talking about reading is pretty great, too. So I hope you’ll find some good folks, kids and adults alike, to share a story with soon!
