Francis Spufford, �The Child That Books Built�
I should note this kind of book is something that I probably never would have picked up on my own. After all, who wants to read random ramblings by some guy you barely know rattling on about how this or that book affected him? What could possibly be more pathetic than that?
But my hot professor gave me this book as a present, and upon reading the first three pages I was entranced. Spufford (whom I�ve never heard of) writes about his childhood and getting lost in his reading, much the way I can do in a bar, the outside world melting away while people prattle on beside me. I also related to his addiction to print, frantically reading anything in sight when a book was not around, scanning newspapers, cereal boxes, sugar packets, signs posted on the wall � any of these are usually more entertaining than most of the company I keep.
And besides, have you ever noticed how many misspelled signs there are in the Caravan alone? Has anybody noticed that Katie Bloom�s, the so-called literary bar, has a painted window tribute to James Joyce that misspells the title of one of his books?
Anyway, the introductory chapter to this book was something I related to, but unfortunately, Spufford was enthralled with fantasy and science fiction, which I�ve never read much of. His later chapters consisted of analogies of these books, which I had no knowledge of. Subsequently, as I read along, I have to assume his assumptions about how these books affected him, as well as other children, are true.
So instead of relating to these books he mentions � Tolkien�s Lord of the Rings, LeGuin�s The Lathe of Heaven, Madeline L�Engle�s Wrinkle in Time series, and the like — I began to ponder my own upbringing with books, to see how they influenced me.
And I was at a loss to offer any insight. The only books I remember reading as a child were Donald Sobel�s Encyclopedia Brown series, C.S. Lewis tales from Narnia, and a shitload of Charles Schultz�s Peanuts collections. I couldn�t tell you anything about the Narnia series (though I still have the books), I remember that I never figured out what the solutions were in Sobel�s series, and I actually cringe to think that I used to like Peanuts.
In fact, the first book that I have any remembrance of came from me reading Peter Benchley�s Jaws. Still, I think the only reason I remember that book was because it was my first conflict with school authority figures. I believe I was in the third grade, and the instructor said we could pick any book to present in an oral report. I picked Jaws, because Jaws 2 was in the theater, and I knew there was no way my parents were going to let me see it. But they couldn�t stop me from reading it. (Thank god for the liberal library system!)
Anyway, I read the book, prepared a report, and then was told on the day of my presentation that I couldn�t use that book because it was �too adult.� They made me pick and read another book from the �approved� list. Ironically, that book (I don�t remember what book it was, but I do remember it wasn�t any where near as good as Jaws), followed some plot of a girl pretending to be a boy, which threw in all sorts of confusing and disturbing issues. So much so, that I was too embarrassed to talk about the plot during my presentation.
The remembrance of that experience brought forth all sorts of introspection on if parental guidance shapes the child and adult to come, and hence I thought about my upbringing. I�ve mentioned before that our television watching was extremely limited, but one thing was absolutely forbidden � Saturday morning cartoons. Now, as an adult, the only thing I watch on TV is The Simpsons and South Park. (Okay, I admit I�ve been watching The Daily Show a lot lately as well.)
I also never heard a swear word until I was at least nine years old, and I now talk like I recently graduated from the Joe Pesci School of Fucking Linguistics. The only music I remember being played in the house was classical — right now I�m listening to Grimple. We weren�t allowed to watch violent programming, and now my favorite movies are Miller�s Crossing and Evil Dead 2.
So is the idea of parental guidance shaping the adult to come a bunch of hooey? (Sorry fucking hooey.) Probably not. Still though, with the experiences I�ve had of late, I�d be much more interested in reading about people who didn�t read, rather than this fan letter to children�s books. Fairly often, when somebody walks into my room and sees the books lining all five walls, they will say something like �I�ve been meaning to get back into reading.� (Which means they won�t.) Or, �I used to read a lot.� Which I tend to doubt — I�m not convinced reading is something that you grow out of.
Though I guess I can see the validity in that last statement — a lot of people get sucked into a habit of watching TV or playing video games and reading, which takes a degree of time and effort, falls by the wayside. But why? I�ve done experiments in this very household, putting out punk magazines in the front room, only to see them thumbed through hours later. For some reason, I think a book about these people who stopped reading for whatever reason would be much more interesting than one guy making excuses for his lack of social skills would. In fact the entire idea is so intriguing for a book that I just may have to write it myself.
Just as soon as I finish these books on my shelf.
