Animal Stories

Does every kid go through the animal books phase?

From ages three to ten, we lived in a little two-bedroom place. My room had a big, beautiful oak tree outside the window, but my parents' room had no such obstructions to light, so I would go lay on their bed to read. And somewhere in those years, I really got into animal stories.

Lassie Come Home, The Trouble with Tuck, Lad: A Dog, Where the Red Fern Grows, Old Yeller, Socks, The Cat That Overcame, The Cat Who Came for Christmas, The Cat Who Went to Heaven, Misty of Chincoteague (yet for some reason I never could get into Black Beauty) . . . There were dozens of these books, and I read many of them two and three times over.

In fact, I was reading Old Yeller in church one Wednesday night. My mom required me to go Sunday mornings, Sunday nights, and Wednesday nights, but on Wednesdays I was allowed to bring homework or a book to read. That particular night we had a guest preacher, and he saw me reading and threw a fit. My mother and our regular pastor had it out over that one. She told him, "That's my daughter and I'll decide whether she can read in church or not!" Pastor Morrow was a big guy, but he backed up quick when Mom got in his face. He apologized to me, which was kinda weird for a seven-year-old. But after that I didn't have to go on Wednesdays any more either.

That was a bit of a digression, but it's funny the memories we attach to some books, and that's my singular memory of Old Yeller.

Animal books often have sad endings, or happy-sad endings. Either way, I seemed to always end up blubbering over them. Even when I'd read them before and knew what was coming. Which is, I suppose, a testament to great writing.

And yet animal books are also something we eventually leave behind. They seem to be the purvey of childhood (Marley and Me notwithstanding). Thinking about it now, I'd like to maybe go back and read a couple of these again, see if they still impact me the same way.

Zilpha Keatley Snyder

Of all the authors I read as a child, I'd have to say Zilpha Keatley Snyder had the greatest impact on me. I read The Egypt Game, of course, but it was The Changeling that really hit home. This is because, like the two girls in that novel, I and my best friend (who conveniently lived next door) also created a fantasy world and played/lived in it. Afternoons and weekends were spent there. It was an idyllic childhood in many ways, and then came the day I had to move away.

Snyder had other wonderful books and I devoured many of them. The Velvet Room. The Truth About Stone Hollow. Libby on Wednesdays. I eagerly await the day my own daughter will be old enough to enjoy these, though I wonder whether she will connect with them as much as I did. A part of me is afraid she'll fail to see the glory in these stories. It is a different world now, with different sensibilities; what spoke to my experience as a child may not speak to her at all.

Even now, though, as an adult, I like to return to Snyder now and then for a quick read. Her books continue to weave magic, even now that she's passed, and I think her writing certainly helped me shape my own.

Judy Blume

Like many kids growing up in the 80s, Judy Blume books had an impact on my childhood. I read Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing and Superfudge, and even Otherwise Known as Sheila the Great. I read Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret and Blubber. For some reason, I remember the bit in Blubber about singing "Sweet and Low," even though I don't know that song at all. This is a blog about things you take with you from books, and that's what I took with me from that one. What that says about me, I  have no idea.

I read a lot of these books several times over, so it's strange that I now remember so little. Every now and then, though, some strange detail will surface in my brain. Like Sheila and the shoes. I think I remember that because I am also particular about shoes; I really dislike it when people wear shoes in the house. Maybe I lived in Japan in a previous life or something. (I do feel a strong connection to the ancient Far East.)

Peter and the turtle, and the dancing with the balloons, and the myna bird, and "Toot, toot, tootsie." Hmm. The songs stick with me. Why is that? Well, I do love music.

What's interesting is that I remember nothing of Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret. And I read it at least two or three times. So many parents were worried about that book for some reason (was there something about getting your period in it?), but for all the impression it made on me . . . ::shrug::

Of course, books are personal experiences. No one has the exact same response. I'm sure Are You There God? It's Me, Margaret had a huge impact on many readers. And I'm equally certain that if I began to re-read it, it would all flood back.

I was past the point of Judy Blume by the time the later Fudge books came out. I didn't read Forever or Tiger Eyes or any of those. I inhabited a strange space in that I had a reading ability that far outreached my social-emotional development. So in fifth grade I was reading Lighting by Dean [R.] Koontz but . . . somehow couldn't wrap my brain around things like crushes and dating and the stuff of YA. I feel like I skipped a whole genre, went from middle grade to adult.

Sometimes I feel like my life went that way, too.

Dr. Seuss

I was reading fluently by the age of three, and the first books I remember are the ones so many children remember starting with: Dr. Seuss.

Not Green Eggs and Ham, though. I never liked that one. Later, I would use Green Eggs and Ham to teach my best friend (four years my junior) to read, but for myself, I remember There's a Wocket in My Pocket and I Can Read with My Eyes Shut! to be my favorites. I thought The Cat in the Hat was okay, and of course One Fish Two Fish Red Fish Blue Fish, but Mr. Brown Can Moo! Can You? topped them, I think. At least in my young mind.

I recall the cartoons, too. Not just Grinch at Christmas, but The Cat in the Hat where he sings: "Cat. Hat. In French, chat, chapeau . . ." (For the record, I cannot stand that new Cat in the Hat cartoon series; I find it truly obnoxious and the very antithesis of the original story.) And the cartoon version of The Lorax, and The Sneeches . . .

Of course, I can't really think about Seuss without also thinking about Eastman and Go, Dog. Go! I spent a lot of time looking at that page with all the dogs having the party in the tree.

And then there was Ten Apples Up On Top! Which had Theo. LeSieg's name on it, but I guess was really Dr. Seuss all along.

When I got too old for these books, I put them in one of my parents' military lockers. They stayed there for years. And then I had kids of my own, and now they read the same books I did. They didn't learn to read as early as I; I don't know what made the difference. Maybe the fact I was an only child and they have each other to play with. I spent so much time alone and reading, but they don't have to. They do love to read, but they do it as a social activity more than a solitary one. They read to each other, or like us to read to them. Whereas for me reading will always be a quiet thing I prefer to do alone.