A History of Reading

     If I had to characterize my family with one word, it would be "readers." We are all of us passionate about the written word, and not a family meal or gathering goes by without some discussion about literature and heated opinions on film adaptations of our favorite books. Although our individual tastes in authors and genres differ somewhat, they find a solid common ground in the works of Jane Austen, a taste which was cultivated long before Colin Firth's Darcy, Emma Thompson's Elinor, and the Jane Mania which those now beloved portrayals ignited.
     One of my earliest memories is of a book my sister Celia made for me before I began school -- it was an alphabet book with drawings of various things that began with each of the letters. With that simple tool, she taught me to read. I remember one particular day not long after, when I opened one of her "Dana Girls" mysteries and found to my delight that I could read it! I was so excited, I ran to her, flourishing the book and panting: "Listen, listen! -- 'Louise Dana, a pretty, dark-haired girl of seventeen, paused in the doorway with an armful of paper novelties.'" (Have any of us voracious readers ever forgotten the first real sentence we were able to read?) From that day, a whole world of adventure, romance, humor, and sorrow opened up before my eager eyes. It was somewhat of a damper when I did begin going to school and found that I had to revert to "See Tip run. Run, Tip, run."
     If the school year was spent reading the chronicles of such fascinating personages as Dick and Jane and their little dog Tip, my parents provided more than a compromise. Every Sunday after church during our summer vacations, they took my siblings and me to the library on post (we were living in Ft. Sam Houston). We were each allowed to check out five books for the week, of any genre and author that appealed to us, and we were encouraged to read them all before the next Sunday. Admittedly, I didn't always manage to finish my five, but I gave it a good shot, and zipped through the "B is for Betsy" series, Beezus and Romona, the "Little House" books, and other juvenile fiction including one of my very favorites, They Loved to Laugh by Katherine Worth. After starting piano lessons, I broadened my reading list with lives of the composers.
     While Celia was the one who taught me to read, it was my brother George who sparked my interest in the actual physicality of books -- the quality of the binding, the art of illustration, fine editions. Every Christmas he gave me a treasure. One was Alice's Adventures under Ground in a facsimile edition of Carroll's handwritten manuscript; others were first issues of the famous and beloved Tasha Tudor-illustrated editions of The Secret Garden and Little Women; he also gave me my first Jane Austen -- Pride and Prejudice -- in the Collins dark blue leatherette binding, which is my favorite edition of Jane's books. These trophies grace my shelves to this day, though I have since purchased other editions of the same titles. (I have never believed in having just one copy of any favorite!)
     I am forever grateful that I come from a family that places such importance on reading, which I truly believe is the bedrock of education. Before you place a child in front of a computer, put a real book in his hands. You will have given him one of the greatest gifts ever to be had in life.