When I was a child I devoured books. There never seemed to be enough to read. It was a good thing I tended to read favourites over and over again. Not only for the enjoyment, but to also discover how the author had created the story. To learn the techniques they’d used to draw me into their world and keep me turning pages.
I still have quite a few of my childhood books. All the Trixie Belden books, numerous Enid Blyton, books that belonged to my parents when they were children and so many more. Occasionally I revisit old favourites and I’ve shared some with my children. The books all have memories that go with them, reminding me of different moments of my childhood.
I have the full set of Trixie Belden books and so many times my mum had to search for the next one because I absolutely needed and couldn’t live without it. I loved reading that series, following the characters in their adventures and trying to solve the mysteries along with them. And of course there was Nancy Drew. Yet more mysteries to solve.
Some of my other childhood books still sitting in my shelves are ‘The Big Brass Key’ by Ruth Park, ‘The Box In The Attic’ by Barbara Euphan Todd, ‘A Horse Called Butterfly’ by Thurley Fowler, ‘Caddie Woodlawn’ by Carol Ryrie Brink, ‘Anne Of Green Gables’ by Lucy M. Montgomery and ‘The Velvet Room’ by Zilpha Keatly Snyder to name but a few.
I read in so many different genres and tended to pick up nearly any book I saw. It made buying presents for me very easy. I continued to read in various genres through my teenage years and kept many of those books as well. Although I tended to read more fantasy and horror than other genres by that age.
I still read in numerous genres and can’t see a book without wanting to pick it up and check it out, tempted to start reading immediately. And I continue to collect many of the books I read, much to the protests of my groaning bookcases.