Sarah of Puss Reboots
I grew up with Enid Blyton books and still have my original set if Noddy books. I have wonderful memories of sitting with my Grandmother as we progressed from Noddy to the other books by Enid Blyton; Mr Twiddle was a real favourite and yet my Grandmother never complained as we read over and over again.
Those early memories of reading on my Grandmother’s knee were always very special and I guess it is where I felt safe and secure, not that I had any reason not to feel safe, but it was those special moments that we look back on and realise their importance.
I can remember my first library visit with my Mum, being issued 3 little cards and then exchanging them for round discs that represented books. The ticket in the back of the book then slotted into the card. All very time consuming and a lovely memory. I wrote about libraries back in March and you can read that post HERE.
I have always read, as Mum did and still does and my late Grandmother did. I am never far from a book and have a Kindle and iPad, but you can not beat holding those wonderful books in your hand and getting such pleasure.
I was encouraged to read and to explore different writing styles and genres and I love the feeling of being completely absorbed in a book. A few years ago for a course I was undertaking we had to ask for feedback from specific groups of people – parents, old elderly relative, sibling or close friend. I remember asking Mum the series of devised questions and Mum shared with me that she can tell when I am in a good book, because I grunt. Grunt? I was horrified and asked Mum to explain. She said that asking a question when I was reading a special book or one that I enjoying was pointless because I never listened to the question and would often just grunt a response. I am still mortified and apparently I do still do it, but not as bad. Mum simply said, she was to blame for indulging my book obsession.
I guess, even in childhood and then into young adult reading I liked cosy and nice books – books that have a feel good factor or a nice dose of reality. I didn’t enjoy make belief worlds or vampires and things.
I have though read all the Harry Potter books and a few years ago stumbled across a book by Angie Sage called Magyk, which marked the first book in a set of 7. I have the hardback version with this cover and I can see the appeal for children. I have read the three of these books and I going to purchase the other 4 in the same hardback styled covers, then I will have a re read of the series, probably sometime next year. There is a blog which I note mentions that the first book, Magyk is going to be made into a movie, which I will go and see.
Whilst I do not like blood and guts books (of films) – the Stephen King style books I love cosy mysteries and whilst I like reality books I still love the Harry Potter books, I have no idea why for this contradictory state of affairs,but that is the way it is!
Kids these days have Nintendos, computer games and of course iPods and alike and I wonder if being a chid is shorter than when I was a kid. I got to experience books, jigsaws and games like twister, snakes and ladders and Monopoly – heck I still have my childhood set of Monopoly and Scrabble with all the original cards and bits. Perhaps, as a society we should take a step back and let children enjoy being children and be able to experience the thing we enjoyed as kids.
When did we, as a society expect children to deal with the atrocities that the world throws at them? A book like The Boy in the Striped Pajamas by John Boyne deals with the Holocaust in a nice way, so that children can understand the details, and implications without the in the face brutality that it is.
I recall reading that book just after it first came out and I read it twice before I could make notes in my journal. Certainly it is a book that is suitable for adults and children and could be used as a discussion point for people whose ancestry has been affected by the Holocaust.
A great discussion point for the Armchair BEA, I have enjoyed my time down memory lane.