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A Hand-Me-Down Reader
I was the youngest of five kids. And there was quite an age spread among the children in our family: 18 years between me and my eldest brother. Add to this the fact that my father was an older dad (he was nearly 50 when I was born, and 14 years older than my mother) and you can imagine the multigenerational quality of just my immediate family. Our experiences and perspectives could be quite different. But one thread was common from oldest to youngest: reading.
By the time I came along, the books had begun to pile up. But this was a good thing; a great thing. I had my own ready-made library at home, and, unlike what kids can face in some (less-enlightened) libraries and classrooms, there was no expectation as to what I could read, what I couldn’t read, what I should read, or what I shouldn’t read. Everything was available, and I could take it or leave it, depending on my mood or interest level that day, or month, or year.
I started out reading a lot of Dr. Seuss (hand-me-downs from my Dad’s doctor’s office), liberally intermixed with Peanuts comic strip collections (started by my eldest brother, Keith, and dating back to the first books Schulz released in the 1950s). I read The Flying Hockey Stick and Giants Come in Different Sizes (from my brother Jon’s shelves). I obsessively read and re-read books about the Gemini and Mercury missions (books that belonged to my brother Ian; he was born before there was an Apollo program). Later I would methodically go through every series in my sister Jenni’s fantasy collection—including The Chronicles of Narnia, the Earthsea books, the Xanth series, and the Dragonriders of Pern books. It was quite a feast that had been set before me.
But maybe more important than what I read was how I read. In our house, there was never any pressure to have to read anything at any particular time. With our hand-me-down library, I never needed to get permission—even from a librarian or a parent—to read anything. (I probably should have gotten permission before I went into my siblings’ rooms and took their books, but too bad! That’s what happens when you have brothers and sisters. Ha!) So when I was 8 years old and wanted to read nothing but B.C. and Wizard of Id comic strip collections for a week straight, no one said, “no.” When I was in my teens and still went back to pore over Dr. Seuss’s Sleep Book, no one said that the book was beneath my reading level. When I tried to read the Tom Swift books and lost interest and put them back on the shelf, no one said that I really needed to finish that book before I started another one. There was a real freedom in being surrounded by such a random collection of books, and having access to them—all of them—at any time.
The books on my family’s bookshelves had been acquired by different people at different times in their lives. It was a treat to be able to access them when I was ready to, when I was at the same point in my life—or, when I was older and at a point to glean something new from a book that was, by then, “too young” for me. Because the thing is, you never know when you’re going to be ready for a particular book. There are still days when I want to go back and examine Dr. Seuss’s work. And I’m still not sure I’m all that interested in Tom Swift. But having a hand-me-down library can yield some surprises far down the line. On my desk, I have a copy of Edgar Rice Burroughs’ A Princess of Mars, which I just finally got around to reading about five years ago. The inscription on the endpapers reads, “To Wendell / March – 1922 / Best Wishes / Emmie.” … which means that this particular hand-me-down book was a gift from my Grandmother to my Grandfather some 90 years ago.
Talk about starting a family tradition!
Matthew Holm is the co-creator of the award-winning Babymouse series of graphic novels from Random House Children’s Books. His latest books are A Very Babymouse Christmas and Squish: The Power of the Parasite. Prior to working in children’s publishing, Matt spent eight years writing about kitchens (among other topics) for Country Living Magazine. He currently lives in Portland, Ore., with his wife and dog.
Learn more at www.matthewholm.net and www.babymouse.com.
This is a great testimony for the legacy of reading in families. I wonder how it begins, but I know it grows with each generation. Thanks for posting.
My 15 year old just asked if I had read Siddhartha. I retrieved the heavily annotated book from a shelf and handed it to him (it was a touchstone for me in my late teens and early 20’s.) Two great things happened next:
First, he opened the front cover and found my dad’s name written in. “Hey, this was Grandpa’s book!” So I guess I purloined the book from dad. Perhaps my son will follow suit.
Second, as he thumbed through and browsed the notes I had penciled in the margins, he made his own contextual connection. “This is like getting the Half-Blood Prince’s book!”
My heart skipped a beat.
I love this! I like to think that I am trying to create an environment like this for my own sons (even though there are only two of them and they are close in age). My own book collection runs the full gamut (as an elementary teacher who has taught at a variety of ages).
I DO still have the “books you can’t just take” section, since my husband and I have full bookshelves that may still not be appropriate for elementary kids *grins* It won’t be too long, though, until the kids can grab whatever strikes their fancy.
Hmmmm..after reading this, is anyone surprised with Jenni and Matt’s amazing contribution to kid lit?
Love this glimpse into your reading life, Matt. I was also surrounded by books growing up and I know my own boys are as well. I think the expectation that you will read along with the environment that sets you up for success in reading is huge. Thanks for sharing with us!
What a great piece–and a great argument for having books around in the house. It gives kids freedom to pursue whatever, whenever.
It’s not at all surprising that the story of your life is filled with books. Through your writing, you’ve placed yourself among a family of readers still. I also see that subtle theme running underneath that says “choice”. I hope many will find out that, as you said, “There was a real freedom in being surrounded by such a random collection of books, and having access to them—all of them—at any time.” I also love your final story about the Burroughs’ book. So special!
I read a study once that said a child’s success in school (and life!) was directly related to his/her access to books. This piece is a lovely testament to that!
As a big sister, may I add that I wish my siblings had been nicer to the books they borrowed from me. My copy of Alice in Wonderland has my baby brother’s purple crayon artwork on the end papers. Sigh.
I so should have kept the worn out copy of Goodnight Gorilla that was my older son’s! We ended up buying a new copy for my older son to give to his little brother so he could read it, too…but still, that first book was so well-loved that the board-book pages were frayed and the cover came apart from the rest of the book. It was a true example of what books look like when they are read and reread and reread. I love the idea of thinking of where books have been and who has held them and read them before us. There is so much power in sharing stories. Thanks for sharing yours!
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