Last year when I was in Germany, my exchange partner's father, Ludwig, was extremely generous with his books. When I arrived and told him, yes, I liked to read, he immediately led me to their third floor and piled my eager hands high with both his favorites and ones he had read to his boys when they were children.
Of course, they were all in German. Although I'm normally a very quick reader, it took me two months alone just to get through the first one he gave me. I went to my bookshelf after that and decided I wanted a bit of an easy read next. My choice was Der Wilde Wald, "The Wild Forest", by Tonke Dragt. Originally published in Norwegian, fantastical, funny, adventurous, even a couple moments that made my heart thump.
One morning in the dining room I pulled Der Wald out. After a while, Ludwig appeared, and as he got his breakfast ready, he glanced sideways at the title and said:
"That book is a little young for you, isn't it?"
He didn't mean it condescendingly--he wanted to be hospitable and make sure I was enjoying myself. But since I was enjoying it so much, my instincts startled up in defense.
It's the same back home. Every now and then I sneak a book off my shelf that I should have outgrown years ago, but I haven't, because it's just too darn good.
Here's my official list:
1. Ella Enchanted, by Gail Carson Levine
I remember living in rural Texas in the third grade and experiencing my first agonizing, breathtaking moment of cartharsis, bending over my copy, my nine-year-old heart pounding during that final scene. Char was also the first character who ever got me blushing. And I would still willingly slide down a stair rail with him.
2. The Frog Princess Series, by E.D. Baker
There's something fuzzy about these books. There's constant humor popping up, the kind that makes me chuckle out loud, and even though I would probably barely rate them at PG, a certain character always gets my heart jumping when he asks for a kiss. Reading these and Ella in one sitting would probably send me into cardiac arrest.
3. Understood Betsy, by Dorothy Canfield Fisher
This was one of the many times my mother was right when she said, "You'll like it if you try it." It's homey and sweet, and set in New England, which is where I spent some of my childhood. I love watching the transition of Elizabeth Ann into Betsy, and reading of Cousin Ann hugging her goodbye.
4. The BFG, by Roald Dahl
I went through a hefty Dahl phase as a child, and still don't know any other official definition for an epicure except, "It is someone who is dainty with his eating." This spring, I went through our storage closet and found my much-loved copy of BFG. I laughed out loud the whole way through. Dahl had a gift for messing with words, which I love, while admittedly developing some frightening situations (50-foot giants running around the world every evening to eat "human beans", an extremely small, 24-foot giant who can create dreams, nightmares rattling in jars, that sort of thing).
5. The Princess Academy, by Shannon Hale
I am constantly in awe of Shannon Hale and love her teen and adult books, but Princess Academy tends toward a younger audience with as much creativity and loveliness. I was twelve when I first read it, and sat in my window seat until my backside was numb, forgetting to do important things, like eat, until I read the last quarry song and saw the last miri petal twirl off above a mountain.
6. Johnny Tremain, by Esther Forbes
My mother read this to me years ago, and we stayed up much later than I was supposed to, probably as late as ten-thirty. It was one of the first times I remember hating a character in a story. Not because it was a bad character. Because you were supposed to. That induced more heart-thumping, of a different variety.
7. The Bronze Bow, by Elizabeth Gouge
I believe my fourth grade class read this together. I loved Daniel, the main character, in spite of his surly behavior. How is it that that just made him all the more loveable? The ending is beautiful, with one line standing out particularly in my memory:
"How light it is," Leah murmured. "Even with Jesus gone."
With all these stories, there's something irresistably lovely that makes it impossible for me to let them go. Maybe I'm one of those people who don't outgrow children's stories. I'd like to be one of those people.
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