The Memory of Books

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I started writing this post in the same way I start many of my blog posts, by checking to see what kind of weird holiday is being celebrated. Today is National Kite Day.  Woohoo! So, at first, I thought I was going to attempt a post about kites as symbols of freedom and inspiration....

Sounds good, doesn't it?  I'm sure I will get around to that—someday. But before I got started, my train of thought took off in another direction. 

I suddenly remembered a book I had as a child that was all about children living in Japan. It was a children's picture book, one of a series of books exploring the lives of children in various cultures, that  originally belonged to my mother. And in it I recall reading all about Boy’s Day (which has since been renamed Children’s Day apparently), which was celebrated by flying kites.

Girl’s Day was a separate holiday. At least it was at that time. I don’t know what’s become of it now. And it  involved special dolls that, if memory serves, could only be played with on that one day.  

From there, as I remember, it was an easy leap to wanting to read more books about Japanese Dolls. Which naturally led me to Rumer Godden’s books Miss Happiness and Miss Flower and Little Plum.  And then to Ms Godden’s other doll books, and then to doll books by other authors, such as Helen Clare’s Five Dolls series.

That led me to thinking about other books I’d loved as a child, too many of which I can no longer enjoy reminiscing over since I don't recall either  the author or the title.

Perhaps I should try hypnosis? Hmmm...there’s a thought.

One book that I did manage to stumble across, not that long ago, is called The Forgotten Door by Alexander Key. It’s a YA science fiction story about a boy from a different world who falls through a door and ends up on Earth.  

Anyway, somewhere along the way my train of thought became derailed. All I could think about was all those books--some of which were written almost one hundred years ago--and that ended up being loved by generations. How wonderful is that? I don't think I can imagine anything better for an author.

So what about you? What were some of your earliest, favorite reads? Can you still remember them? And, if you’ve happened upon them again as an adult, have you reread them? What’s your impression of them now?