Growing up, I was fortunate to be surrounded by books. I can still remember the incredible feeling of losing myself in a book, traveling to a new place, another time, and inviting wonderful characters into my head.
Tall Book of Mother Goose
Mother Goose is one of the first books I can remember reading. Unlike some of my favorite books, I still own the original. Others I’ve had to reacquire via e-Bay.
Published by Harper & Row in 1942, don’t expect any ‘politically correct’ or glossed over nursery rhymes in here. Back in the day, kids read about Little Johnny Green who tried to drown poor pussy cat in the well, the Old Woman in the Shoe who whipped her kids soundly before sending them to bed, and some nameless kid in Goosey, Goosey Gander who grabbed an old man by the left leg and threw him down the stairs. Despite this exposure to early violence, I grew into a semi-normal, responsible adult. And perhaps because of it, I write mystery books about murder and mayhem.
What is the very first book you can remember reading? Do you still own it? What did you love most about it?
I learned how to read in the first grade, a book called Pup. I never owned a copy, but I distinctly remember it having a yellow cover with a puppy on the front. I’ve had my nose in a book ever since.
Cool. If you’re into book collecting, as I recently realized that I am, you should try to find it. It’s amazing what memories it brings back 😉