15 things about books

[brigdh]

1. I don't remember learning to read. I remember little things associated with the process, like the reading lessons in first grade: we'd get a sheet of paper with ten or twenty words on it, would study them for a week, and then would have to read them, write them, and define them in one-on-one sessions conducted in the hallway outside the classroom. I remember usually already knowing the words.

I don't remember what the first book I read was. I remember books I had when I was very young: one of my favorites was a giant collections of old fairy tales illustrated with ancient sepia-tinted woodcuts. They weren't quite the Grimm versions, but they were closer to that than they were to Disney: plenty of people getting eaten or having their eyes pecked out or being turned to birds that carried millstones around their necks. I loved the Robber's Bridegroom with an unholy glee, but the one that haunted me the most was the man forced to dance to death in a patch of briars. I still have it somewhere, though it's missing both the front and back covers and the spine.

2. I do remember the first time I went to a library. Neither of my parents were really library-people (which was strange, because they are book-people, especially my dad, but I suppose they've just always bought their books), so the first time I went was with my neighbor and best friend Maureen. I was enthralled. All these books, and for free! As many as I wanted! I was five or six, and I have hazy memories of a giant, brick-lined room with the children's section, and the intimidating adult half of the library, which I had to walk past the librarian's desk to get to. These memories are a lot warmer, brighter, and, for some reason, yellower than my more recent visits to the place.

I got a library card soon after, and it became tradition to go to the library every Friday and get ten books. Always ten books, and always ten new ones, because I'd easily finish that many in a week. This tradition continued at least until I was in high school, although I'd since discovered that I could actually get out as many as fifty at a time. The ten-at-once thing was invented by my parents.

3. The book I impressed most heavily upon as a child was The Changeling by Zylpha Keatley Synder. I have no idea where I found it; not a library, because I've always had my own copy of it, and it wasn't a gift, because I don't have any of those "cool aunt" type people who would have bought it for me. Maybe I stole it from a classroom.

It's the story of a relatively normal, if shy, unpopular, and book-wormish, girl who becomes best friends with the daughter of the "bad" family in town, a weird child who talks to imaginary friends and wants to become a ballerina and is convinced that she is a changeling (thus the title). The story concerns the time they spend together growing up, which comes and goes as the strange girl's- Ivy is her name- family gets run out of town and then slinks back, and eventually ends with the revelation that she's managed to find a dance school in New York. My copy of it has been read so thoroughly that it doesn't have a back cover and exists in three or four pieces held together with a rubber band.

I didn't identify with the main, normal character, as you're obviously supposed to. No, I was all about Ivy. I was Ivy, in ways, and I wanted to be Ivy in even more ways. I get hit hardest by characters who ping my emotional radar like she does: not just that I share some trait of theirs, but that they are unafraid of the traits, they embrace them and flaunt them and fuck the rest of the world if it makes them uncomfortable (and dear God, does Saiyuki hit this part of me).

I have issues from trying to cover over parts of me that I know make it harder for me to relate to people socially. I've been told a lot that I'm too smart for people to feel comfortable with, and while there's not really much I can do about that, it's become one of my ingrained habits to not directly mention grades or test scores or anything that quantifies intelligence; when I get excited and slip up, the best response I ever get is a pause while stuff goes on behind their eyes that I don't want to know, a strained "that's great!", and a change of subject. And I don't mind, because I don't need to brag, but I'm jealous of people who can take joy in their accomplishments and have everyone around them join in whole-heartedly. I get tired, sometimes, of having everything be shadowed by the need to fuzz it out, squish it down, make it fit into the realm of everyday.

And Ivy is the first character I can remember reading and thinking, "This is it! This is how I'm going to be from now on! I won't be normal anymore, I don't need to, I can be so much more." Except that, well. It's really hard to do if you don't have that person who will stick by your side and love you anyway. I can track my emotional response to characters who do have that friend, and therefore who are so much cooler than the rest of us, so much larger than life, directly back to The Changeling. I am so heavily invested in it that I will still read anything about changelings, despite the fact that the fairy tales don't really have anything to do with what I respond to.

4. I read about a page a minute. This changes based on how small the text is, how large the pages are, and how interested I am in the material, but it's constant enough that I can time how long I've been reading by how many pages I've covered. I've read at the same rate for years.

5. I cannot keep a bookmark. I lose them in millions of ways: I'll take them out of the book and misplace them, they'll slip from the pages while I'm moving the book, they'll disappear into the stomach of the monster that eats socks from the dryer. After getting sick of constantly buying pretty bookmarks and losing them within days, I started using scrap pieces of paper to mark my place, usually a corner torn off a newspaper, a fast-food napkin, or a flyer handed to me by someone protesting something. Ironically, these often last for several books.

6. One of my clearest memories of eighth grade is a day when no one was paying attention to class; people were shouting, whispering, passing notes, getting out of their seats to run around, etc, etc. Finally, in desperation, the teacher screamed at all of us and pointed to me: "Look! [Brigdh] is the only one who's actually listening! Why can't the rest of you be like her?"

Hearing my name, I jerked up and pretended that I had some idea of what was going on because I was, of course, actually reading a novel underneath my desk. Although the teacher couldn't see it, everyone to my sides or behind me could, which meant they all knew exactly how little I was listening. I'm just lucky I only got teased later instead of being told on.

7. I love to read out loud. Unfortunately, most people, including me, hate to be read to, especially when they have no particular interest in the book being read. I forced my parents to listen to me for a while, until catching them doing something that required both hands, like driving or fixing dinner, ceased to work because they'd refuse to listen, and then I invented a ghost that lived in my closet and was so bored by having such a small afterlife that he'd listen to whatever I wanted.

8. One summer, when I was around ten, my father announced that I was no longer allowed to read as much as I had. His reasoning was that endless reading was no better than endless TV watching, and I needed to be outside playing more to be healthy. He was probably right, but that didn't keep me from being convinced that this was the most terrible tragedy that had ever oppressed a child (italics deeply intended! I remember spending the few days after he told me in tears).

It ended up having no actual effect on my amount of reading, as none of my other guardians cared enough to enforce it and he soon forgot the whole thing, but I was traumatized by the fear of having my books taken away.

9. I have always had insomnia. Since as a child, you're not allowed to get out of bed to do something else the way all 'cure insomnia' books tell you, I started telling myself stories to help me fall asleep. I remember that by seventh grade, if not earlier, these stories were essentially fanfiction (I can date this because I remember snippets of a story about Drizzt Do'Urden, a character from R. A. Salvatore's Forgotten Realms books I adored at that time), but even before that one of my favorite tricks was to populate my room with all my favorite characters.

When I found out that other people did the same thing, I was amazed, because I'd long since convinced myself that it was a weird and bizarre behavior that I should never let anyone find out about.

10. I don't get motion sickness at all. It's fairly rare, actually, for me to be in a bus or car and not be reading; after all, what else is there to do? Watch buildings go by? I can carry on for hours without feeling the slightest bit nauseous.

11. I scope out the books that other people have in their homes, and yes, it does impact how I feel about them. Fortunately, given that I'm in college, most people I know will at least have textbooks somewhere in their living space. Books they were forced to buy for a class probably shouldn't count, particularly when they own no others at all, but just the sight of books on shelves gives me enough of the emotional weight I want that I look more kindly on them than I would someone with no books at all.

I also will always attempt to see the title of the book when I see someone reading in public. Since people generally read by holding the cover down, this can involve some interesting positions as I try to make it out without obviously staring. If I've read it myself, or even if I just know of it, I'll usually say something to the person, because hey: fellow reader!

12. I've never had an issue with reading books with adult content, and as far as I can remember, my parents never tried to censor my reading. Which lead to several strange discussions: I once asked my mother what a 'hoo-rey' was. When she looked for herself and corrected my pronunciation ("whore"), she attempted to explain what it was. I'd recognized the word however, and was already backing, blushing, out of the room. I think I was 10 or 11 at the time.

I ended up rereading that book a million times, actually. I can still remember the opening line: "My mother was the village whore, and I loved her very much."

13. I cannot remember a time when I didn't carry a book with me constantly. It was easy enough in grade school, because I could just put it in my desk, but high school was a new challenge: we switched classes! If I wanted books, I'd have to carry them where everyone could see and make fun of me! Such a choice: popularity or reading? I angsted over it, came up with compromises: maybe if I always carried them face-down, maybe if I'd only carry relatively thin paperbacks, maybe if I hid them between textbooks...

I chose books, of course. I did get tired of having people think they could reach onto my desk and look at what I was reading though, so by my sophomore year I started wearing purses big enough to hold books. Which got bigger each subsequent year, as I then decided they needed to be big enough to carry even thick hardcovers, and then they needed to be big enough to have a book and a notebook, and then they needed to carry multiple books.

In college I gave up on purses and started carrying a backpack constantly.

14. If I start a book, I will almost certainly finish it. The few exceptions to this come from my reading multiple books at once, and forgetting about the least interesting of them until months have passed and I can no longer remember what was happening, at which point it just goes back on the to-be-read pile. But I don't think I've ever simply decided to put a book down.

15. I always have a bookshelf within reach of my bed. The last two beds I've bought came with bookshelves built into the headboards, which I consider the greatest invention since pillows. If I'm not sharing a room with anyone and can therefore read before falling asleep, I will sleep with books directly in the bed. I have done this for years, and it's not terribly uncommon for me to change the sheets and find a paperback kicked to the bottom of the bed and tangled in a blanket.

Comments

[shes-unreal.livejournal.com]

re 1. I've been told that when I was being taught to read by my parents I would actually memorize the stories... so if they told me to read the book I could "read" it to them, but if they pointed to a word on the page I didn't know what it was.

re 2. Ha, I'm going to be the weird aunt who gets stuff like that for my niece and nephew. I'm already determined to get them things like the original Peter Pan books and I want to get Roverandom right now but I don't know if my brother and his wife would read it to the kids.

Also, whenever anyone mentions The Changeling, I get all excited because I think they're talking about The Fledgling by Jane Langton, which is about a little girl who lives with kind of a strange family and is a strange kid even for them. She becomes friends with a giant goose who teaches her to fly over Walden Pond, but when she tries to practice in her own house her family and neighbors tell her that she can't possibly fly and try to make her quit (and prevent her from sneaking out to see the goose). I really loved that book and to this day I still will run to see when I hear Canada geese flying over even though I know what nasty annoying nuisances they really are. But , you know, nobody ever is talking about that book, they're either talking about the one you're talking about or that book about the baby deer.

re. 11. Since discovering libraries and becoming poor I don't buy books much (I usually don't read them more than once anyway) but I do have a few novels laying around.

re 13. I was allowd to have a backpack in high school so I could carry whatever I wanted with me.

[p-zeitgeist.livejournal.com]

Number 3 makes me want to gallop up on a big black horse and rescue you from Those People -- you know, the ones who can't cope with you socially because you're smart, and try to make you believe that this will be the case everywhere you go for the rest of your life. They probably can't help it, poor things: they don't know any better. But they still make things so much more painful than necessary.

Just have patience. Soon you will emerge out into the real world, where the only reason nobody mentions grades or test scores is because everybody is brilliant and everybody assumes you are too, and values you for it. Which reminds me of a pointless cultural question. Out there in the almost-midwest, do you all still observe the old reverse snobbery of the academy, where no Ph.D. would ever consider using the title "Doctor" socially or in the classroom, because everyone was presumed to have the degree and making a fuss about yours would be too tacky for words? I always liked that.

[alkairis.livejournal.com]

Mm. You make me crave a good book.

Think I'm going to go read now.

[questionable537.livejournal.com]

I used to live out in the middle of nowhere when I was growing up, so when I got into trouble, my mother wouldn't ground me--instead, she'd stop driving me the twenty-odd miles to the nearest library. There wasn't much else she could punish me with, and I was constantly terrified I'd make some mistake or other and have my books taken away.

I can relate to 12. Even when my library privileges were taken away, I had new books to read. It just meant I'd raid my mother's collection instead, which is how I ended up reading Tom Clancy books (which I never really liked) by the time I was eleven.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Hee. My job is done, then.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

instead, she'd stop driving me the twenty-odd miles to the nearest library

Oh, man, I can feel how horrible that punishment would be. Parents can come up with the most effective things.

It just meant I'd raid my mother's collection instead, which is how I ended up reading Tom Clancy books (which I never really liked) by the time I was eleven.

Hee. I've never read Clancy's stuff, but it is really funny what sort of things you can get into as a kid who reads.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

1. I've heard a lot of people say that in this meme. I don't remember if I did it myself, though.

2. *grins* I want to be the cool aunt- or well, cousin, in this case- too, but Kelly is undermining my efforts by turning into a girly-girl who is already fascinated with boys and obsesses over Barbie and Bratz and anything involving pink or makeup or princesses. I've been trying to think of cool things to give her that she would still be interested in, but it's hard. Her parents are pretty cool, so at least I don't have to worry that they wouldn't read a present to her or anything.

I may have to just turn to Kimi instead, who is a child after my own heart. Baby girl was a misanthrope before she could even talk; she'd give people this "your idiocy bores me" glare when they'd try to baby talk her.

And heh, sorry to disappoint you again. I'm surprised it's happened to you so often, though: I've never met anyone else who's read The Changeling. The Fledgling (the deer one, not yours), is pretty famous, though.

11. Yeah, I understand that. And with the space constraints of dorms/apartments, and having to move so often, I don't expect anyone to have a lot of books. You just need one or two. Which you have, so you do not count as one of the horrible people without any! ;)

13. We weren't allowed to carry backpacks during the day at my school, because supposedly we would use them to carry guns, bombs, drugs, whatever. Which, you know, we only had three bomb threats during the time I was there, and none of them actually happened, so I totally don't know what they were worried about! [/sarcasm]

But I was really bitter about not being able to carry a backpack.

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

Awww. Thank you, though the image of myself being rescued by the knight in shining armour or just on the big black horse is kind of making me crack up.

But I'll take your word for it. It's comforting to be told that the Real World is out there, as hard as it may be to believe at times.

And heh, yeah, they do that. Most of the faculty go by their first names, actually, at least once you get out of the giant, several-hundred-students-at-a-time intro level courses. Ironically, the one professor I've had lately who did make a fuss about her title doesn't yet have her Ph.D, although perhaps that's why she was so strict about 'professor'.

[p-zeitgeist.livejournal.com]

though the image of myself being rescued by the knight in shining armor or just on the big black horse is kind of making me crack up.

It would be even funnier if you'd ever seen me in RL. I'm tiny, and I actually sort of look like an Anime Girl, complete with the preternaturally big eyes. It would be like being rescued by Princess Tutu.

[redshoeson.livejournal.com]

Coolest meme evar. I knew some of these things about you, but not many. I knew about the Changeling b/c I remember you telling me about it when we were walking back from Haiku or some other place on High St. late at night. I knew about the backpack b/c I know you IRL, and that's tough to miss. Additionally, it was inspiration for mine.

I've also heard the whore story before; that's a good one. ^^

Except that, well. It's really hard to do if you don't have that person who will stick by your side and love you anyway.

This one makes me sad. You silly, silly non-gendered person. OF COURSE we will all love you no matter what! :P


P.S. Did you invent this meme? What are the directions for it?

[wordsofastory.livejournal.com]

P.S. Did you invent this meme? What are the directions for it?

Heh, no. I'm surprised you haven't seen it before me; it's been all over the place on my flist. As far as I know, the rules are just to say 15 things about yourself and books.

coffeeandink's been collecting different people's versions here (http://del.icio.us/coffeeandink/15things), so you can see what others have done with it.

Reposted to fix the html