For as long as I
can remember, I’ve loved to read. I spent much of my childhood with my nose
buried in a book – I would even bring a book along when I went out to eat with
my family. (Rude, I know. Shame on me.) I blew through every elementary reading
assignment – I was up to my neck in free pizzas from Book-It, and I eventually
needed a second plaque for all my Accelerated Reader gold bars. I read the
elementary school library dry, and the day I got my Brookings Public Library
card was one of the best days of my young life.
So it’s no big
surprise, really, that I ended up with an English degree and working in a
public library. For an avid reader like me, being in close proximity to
thousands of books every day is basically heaven on earth. I read more now than
ever, thanks not only to the sheer convenience, but I am constantly making
mental reading lists as I’m out and about on the library floor. Ever since I
started working here, not having anything to read (previously a very real concern of mine)
has not been a problem.
But I’m not here
to talk about the books I read now. My love of books began long ago, and I want
to talk about the books I loved most as a child. These are books that I can
read now – twenty-some years later – and the memories of the first time I read
them are as clear as day. So allow me to present my top ten childhood books!
(Note: I did
cheat a little bit in some – ok, most – cases by counting a series of books as
one entry. But you’re just going to have to live with it.)
(Another note: with the exception of Goosebumps and the Welcome Inn series - sadly, I no longer own those books - all of the photos of these books are the books from my own collection. You can tell because there's a cat named Mona in several of these pictures.)
(Another note: with the exception of Goosebumps and the Welcome Inn series - sadly, I no longer own those books - all of the photos of these books are the books from my own collection. You can tell because there's a cat named Mona in several of these pictures.)
My first pets
were cats – cuddly farm cats who would rub up against your legs and
occasionally fall victim to the school bus. These cats were strictly outdoor
cats, so I lived vicariously by reading about lucky children who were allowed
to have house pets – and these pets, I might add, had a much longer lifespan
than any of mine. (See: school bus.) Peppermint
is the first book I can remember truly loving. It’s a picture book about a runty
white kitten who is born in a candy shop. The candy shop owner names all of the
kittens after candy and sells them – but nobody wants Peppermint. (My heart
broke for Peppermint – as an emotional three-year-old, I wanted so badly to
take Peppermint home and give her all the warm cuddles and canned tuna that she
could ever hope for, but as you know, it’s hard to take a fictional cartoon
kitten home with you.) Peppermint lives in the candy shop for a while, and her
white fur gets all dirty and dusty. Finally, a little girl – the special little
girl that was MEANT to have Peppermint – comes into the shop, sees Peppermint,
and is in love. Peppermint and the little girl live happily ever after. When it
comes to stories about cats and dogs, I love a good happy ending.
Ramona series – Beverly Cleary
Ramona Forever was the first Ramona book I ever read - that copy sitting on top was given to me by my grandma Lorraine. |
Beverly Cleary
has a way of writing that perfectly captured the thoughts and feelings of a
young overly enthusiastic girl. I’m counting the entire series as one entry
because I couldn’t possibly choose my favorite Ramona book. Each and every one
of them had chapters that hit home with me in such a way that it felt like
Beverly Cleary was living inside my head. Remember in Ramona Quimby, Age 8 where Ramona throws up in class and is
completely mortified? That was (and still is) one of my worst nightmares. And
it’s not just Ramona herself that makes the series so good. The dynamic between
Beezus (the older sister) and Ramona (the younger sister) is spot-on, and while
I liked Ramona better as a character, I felt an awful lot of sympathy for
Beezus. As an older sister myself, I understood very well Beezus’s desire to
just be left alone with her book. I reread the Ramona series not too long ago,
and those books were just as good as I remember.
The Little Duckling is one of only two picture books to make
my list. It’s about a boy who finds a duck egg and – with the help of an
incubator – hatches it. He names the little duckling Henry and raises him – he
even teaches Henry how to swim in a kiddie pool. Henry is happy as a pet duck
(he even goes on walks and sits with you while you read), but he knows there’s
something more out there. When Henry becomes too big for his pool, the boy
knows it’s time to set him free. The book ends with Henry happily swimming off
into the sunset, and – this is true – finds a lady duck almost immediately. I
would’ve killed for a pet duck like Henry.
Roald Dahl
I’ve never met a
Roald Dahl book I haven’t liked. Some, however, shone above the rest. My
absolute favorites were (and still are) Matilda,
The Witches, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, and The BFG. Roald Dahl’s stories are equal parts wonder and sarcasm,
magic and harsh reality. He creates the most wonderful characters – a friendly
giant who collects dreams? A reclusive candy magnate who has no qualms with
putting ill-behaved children through the ringer? Witches who have square toes
and wear wigs? A principal who was a champion javelin thrower and hurls
students as such? And of course, the wonderful characters have equally
wonderful adventures, and the good guy always wins in the end.
This is an action shot of Mona knocking over my copy of The Witches. |
I don’t remember
how old I was when these books showed up at our house, but they were a gift
from my grandma Lorraine – a former elementary school teacher. I ate them up.
They’re exactly what they sound like: classic novels with an illustration on each
page. I read each and every one of them, but I had my favorites: I couldn’t get
enough of Treasure Island, and I read
Oliver Twist time and time again. This was my first introduction into
what could actually be called literature, and it was much more palpable when
you knew anything you didn’t understand would be explained in an impressively
penned illustration.
The Fudge series – Judy Blume
Mona would like me to quit taking pictures of books and feed her already. |
Just like Beverly
Cleary and the Ramona books, Judy Blume’s Fudge books were perfect renditions
of young life. However, Judy Blume goes beyond Beverly Cleary – age-wise and
issue-wise. Where the Ramona books end when Ramona is ten-ish, Peter and Sheila
make it all the way to twelve – and if you remember being twelve, that’s when
shit starts to get serious. Sure, the Fudge books have the classic sibling
conflicts (Peter v Fudge), but there’s some deeper stuff, like self-acceptance
and conquering fear. Honestly, I don’t know how anyone could have a REAL
childhood without reading Judy Blume and Beverly Cleary.
the Welcome Inn series
For the life of me, I absolutely could not remember what these books are called. I could picture the covers, I knew the main characters' names (Molly and Gwen O'Brien), and I remembered some plot snippets... but none of the important stuff stuck with me. No titles, no author, no series name. Even Google couldn't help me. I wanted to reread them so badly, but that wasn't going to happen until I figured out what they were called. But then? Library to the rescue. My library JUST started subscribing to a database called NoveList, and you can enter vague search terms (related to the plot, characters, whatever) to see if you can find your book. I tried about a zillion search terms, but the one that finally got me there was "Molly inn" filtered into children's books. When I saw that familiar cover, there was much rejoicing. Anyway, there were four books in the Welcome Inn series, and I acquired them all via Scholastic book orders. (Remember those? Book order days wqere the best.) These books were about two sisters who live with their parents in an inn on the east coast somewhere (they’re not homeless; the parents run the inn). There are all sorts of spooky adventures – they help three ancient sisters find a skeleton key, they explore secret passageways under the island, they free a ghost, and they run into mystical creatures called kelpies. The books were certainly intriguing, and I read them over and over. And now that I FINALLY know what they're called, I feel an Amazon order coming on.
For the life of me, I absolutely could not remember what these books are called. I could picture the covers, I knew the main characters' names (Molly and Gwen O'Brien), and I remembered some plot snippets... but none of the important stuff stuck with me. No titles, no author, no series name. Even Google couldn't help me. I wanted to reread them so badly, but that wasn't going to happen until I figured out what they were called. But then? Library to the rescue. My library JUST started subscribing to a database called NoveList, and you can enter vague search terms (related to the plot, characters, whatever) to see if you can find your book. I tried about a zillion search terms, but the one that finally got me there was "Molly inn" filtered into children's books. When I saw that familiar cover, there was much rejoicing. Anyway, there were four books in the Welcome Inn series, and I acquired them all via Scholastic book orders. (Remember those? Book order days wqere the best.) These books were about two sisters who live with their parents in an inn on the east coast somewhere (they’re not homeless; the parents run the inn). There are all sorts of spooky adventures – they help three ancient sisters find a skeleton key, they explore secret passageways under the island, they free a ghost, and they run into mystical creatures called kelpies. The books were certainly intriguing, and I read them over and over. And now that I FINALLY know what they're called, I feel an Amazon order coming on.
Who doesn’t love
Harriet the Spy? Every kid who has
ever read that book immediately started carrying around a little notebook,
writing down observations. But hopefully you learned enough from the book so
that you didn’t write down ALL your observations – after all, that’s what got
Harriet into trouble in the first place. It’s a good lesson for real life, as a
matter of fact. I, too, hauled around a spy notebook and jotted down my
youthful ponderances, but it was short-lived. When I discovered that my deep
thoughts about the world around me weren’t actually that deep, I gave up. It’s
probably just as well – as Harriet could tell you, no one likes a spy.
Ahh, Goosebumps.
Remember the utter joy of a brand new Goosebumps book? You could run your
fingers over the slime-inspired Goosebumps logo and feel those little raised
goosebumps. I loved these books, but I had to keep them hidden in my room – my
sister, a notorious chicken for most of her young life, thought the covers were
too scary. There were SO many Goosebumps books, and I could occasionally
persuade my parents to buy one from the book order. Alas, I don’t remember a
whole lot of the Goosebumps books – there was one about a ventriloquist dummy
that I liked, and I really enjoyed the Goosebumps short story collections, but
my favorites were the books where you chose your own ending. (I realize that
Goosebumps was far from the first to do this, but it was the first time I’d
ever seen it.) The choose-your-own-ending book set at an abandoned carnival
that I recall being especially thrilling.
I don’t know if
you’ve ever noticed, but every main character in every Goosebumps book is
twelve years old. Every single book. The Fear Street books are basically
Goosebumps for the slightly older reader: the kids are teenagers who live on a
cursed street, and their adventures are a little more grim. I never read a
whole lot of the Fear Street books… except for the one my mom picked up at a
garage sale. It was book two of the Fear Street Saga: the epic and chilling
tale of how Fear Street came to be cursed. I read book two, loved it, and wound
up with books one and three. Basically, it boils down to a family feud during
the witch trials: a judge named Fier burns a girl named Goode at the stake
because he doesn’t want his son to marry her – and the Goodes curse the Fiers.
Gruesome misadventures follow over two centuries. I recently found all of these
books at a used book store and bought them in a nostalgic haze. They’re awfully
cheesy as I reread them fifteen years later, but I still find myself intrigued.
R L Stine sure knows how to hook his readers.
-----
While there are
so many books I loved as a child (don’t even get me started on Little Golden
Books) and many more that I loved as I continued through school (Gone With the Wind! Flowers for Algernon!), these are the books that really stick in my mind. These books helped
instill in me a lifelong love of reading, and what’s not to love about that? Reading them now is like revisiting an old friend, and I
can still feel the same joy and excitement I felt when I was reading them twenty
years (!!!) ago.
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