Since Dylan's birth, I've started to look at children's books a bit more, and with more scrutiny. I remember books from my own youth, and feel like perhaps he should fall into the same path with the books I've read and as well as onto an alternate path of books that I look at with great joy and sadness - joy that I can read them now, and sadness that I hadn't the chance to read them because they were yet to be written when I was younger. I hope Strange Stories will be entertaining enough for Dylan and we won't have to wait for three years which is the recommended reading level for this book. Apparently, it's for all ages, although I am not completely sure Dylan is really read-ready. He used to like chewing on his board books. Now he laughs at his books as he flips the pages over, and hardly listens to what I'm reading. He appears bored, but I continue anyway, hoping for some osmosis miracle - surely the words will sink into his brain and he'll somehow retain it for later use.
I think I was rather bookish. I used to go for new books every weekend at the bookstore. At least, that's what it felt like, as I used to finish reading up my books so fast (I wonder why I can't seem to do that anymore...). I was a big Enid Blyton fan - not the Famous Fives or Secret Sevens or even Malory Towers type, but more of the Amelia Jane and Folk of the Faraway Tree type, although I do admit to owning at least one Famous Five (who could resist Timmy the dog, and the whole "George" thing) and a single silly Noddy book from a thrift store. I begged my mother for that book and she was hard pressed to buy it because she thought Noddy was absolutely useless (and probably absolute crap) and when I saw the claymation version of it some years ago, I concurred. The first paper back "real" book I ever read - one that didn't have colored pictures but instead had black and white "illustrations" and was over 100 pages long was Enid Blyton's The Green Storybook. I was six in the first grade, and I borrowed this book from The Victoria School library in Kisumu, and I devoured the book from cover to cover in a matter of 2 or 3 days. It was my first encounter with pixies, brownies, and fairy and elvish folk. The imagery was so vivid and otherworldly in my mind and I can't seem to forget the eery green cover of a foggy smokey creature. I have looked for this book, but it appears to be out of print. I even sought out an Enid Blyton group and found out that it is indeed out of print and must try to find it at the UK amazon.com version for sale as a used book. Disappointingly, haven't found it since. So, I had to ask my sister when she was in England to resort to buying the good old Folk of the Faraway Tree series instead. I did have a box full of Enid Blytons (Amelia Jane, Mr. Twiddle, Binkle and Flip, Red Story Book, Blue Story Book, etc.), but of course, they were lost in a move from San Diego to Las Vegas. Probably were sitting in our old garage only to be thrown out by the new owners - heart wrenching! T'is terrible to pick up the pieces of memories of lost books that you once owned and loved.
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