Friday, March 22, 2013

Rambles from a Reader's Life: Intro and Early Memories

INTRODUCTION:

Inspired by essays in William Dean Howells' My Literary Passions I decided to write about my own reading life.  Serious readers, those who spend an inordinate amount of time reading for pleasure, are a distinct set of people.  In that group of people are various subsets depending mainly on the content of what is read (fiction, short fiction, poetry, philosophy, history, etc.).  I read from a wide range of subjects but tend to read stuff that is old.  I hope to describe my own life as framed by my own "literary passions."  Maybe it will be fruitful or enjoyable for others or possibly it can start interesting conversations.  (Besides, like all writers I'm a great egotist and enjoy talking about myself!)

EARLY MEMORIES:

According to my mother it was my dad who took a great interest in teaching me how to read.  He himself loved to read about American history and the history of Nazi Germany (interests I inherited).  Growing up I remember some of the books he left behind: William Shirer's The Rise and Fall of the Third Reich; Peter Benchley's The Deep (although I could've sworn it was called "Overboard" until I looked it up on Google); and James Clavell's Shogun.  There were other books but those stick in my mind the most.  I never was interested in reading Peter Benchley's book and only managed to get through about half of Shogun.

His interests in history left a lasting passion for me.  Unfortunately, he died when I was 4 years old and I don't know what other influences he might've left if he had been alive to shape my tastes and character.  (Considering his cheesy taste for fiction it can be seen as a good thing that I didn't get that predilection).  And in my small, immediate family I was the only one left to carry on any kind of literary legacy.  My mother was not very interested in reading and my brother never got much of a taste for it either.  When my stepfather came into the picture his main influence was in bringing his Bible to our home.

At around 6 or 7 years old my family and I moved to El Paso, Texas to be nearer my mother's family (both in Mexico across the border and in the United States).  Growing up a bookish, chubby, introverted boy in the midst of a working-class Mexican-American neighborhood is quite an experience.  For various reasons other than my literary aspirations I was a bit of an outcast.  But being the type of person drawn to books did not help my social situation either.

In my experience many in my neighborhood did not encourage intellectual pursuits unless they could see some utility in them.  Parents were glad to have honor student kids as long as they had some goal towards a career like being a doctor or a lawyer.  There were some parents who didn't seem to care about education at all.  I remember one boy who stopped going to school altogether and I later saw him working behind the counter at his father's used car lot (we must've been about 11 or 12 years old).  I suppose in my own family I felt a little isolated since there weren't too many (other than my grandfather) who seemed very interested in books.  There's a scene in the film Quiz Show where Rob Morrow's character, Dick Goodwin, looks longingly and enviously at the Van Doren family as they talk with each other about intellectual pursuits.  I identified with that when I saw it.

This is not to say I had no support.  I always remember having books.  Even though my mother did not like to read she always encouraged my interests.  She was proud, as was my stepfather, of having a little nerdy kid.  When we would go on camping trips or to exhibits I was always given the job of reading out loud the pamphlets explaining the history of the place or the descriptions of the animals who lived there.  My knowledge of grammar was strengthened by playing Mad Libs with my parents.  They would even ask me about the Greek gods I was learning about. 

Back before the era of big bookstores like Barnes & Noble or Borders it was not easy to have access to a large and varied stock of books in cities like El Paso.  We had to make do with going to the library.  My school library in elementary school was quaint like most childhood libraries.  But I remember it as a place to hide and discover something new.  I would frequent the sections that had books by Shel Silverstein or Dr. Seuss.  Children's books on Greek mythology and Curious George I remember fondly.  And I must've read and re-read The Five Chinese Brothers.  When I visit the Los Angeles Public Library and go to the children's section with my own child now I get a melancholy nostalgia and a sense of joy at the same time.  There's something about all the different sizes of books and really low (to adults) bookshelves.

The first "novel" I can remember reading was a story about living on a houseboat.  I have no idea who the author is anymore.  It must've been about 100 or so pages in that large print common to children's books.  I thought it was so long back then (3rd grade?) and felt it an accomplishment to read.  I think I enjoyed the escapist element in it.  It is curious that introverted people feel alienated and retreat into books and other such quiet and lonely pursuits which consequently alienates them further from the world.  But I suppose you would try other more social activities if that's what you truly wanted.

Another fond memory is receiving the Scholastic Book Club catalog at school periodically.  I invariably got my mom to buy me some books: Encyclopedia Brown books, the aforementioned Mad Libs, and classics like Dickens' A Christmas Carol and Shelley's Frankenstein.  I vaguely remember having to do something like sell chocolate bars for the school but my large extended family inevitably bought most of that.

Some of these books I remember well.  Some I barely remember.  A few I've re-read (Dickens and Shelley).  But what I remember most is the places where I found these books, where I read them, what I was doing around that time, what school I attended, my dog, food I ate, etc., etc., etc...  There is an emotional attachment to books at that age that is not the same in later life.  I now read an average of 1 or 2 books a week and most I'll probably forget.  But when a child reads there is more of an urgency.  They could be the most banal, puerile books but they spark the imagination, provide solace, show a world before undreamed of.  It's almost like making a new friend when you open up a book.  I still get a little emotional to think of my cherubic, ungainly little-boy body perusing a new volume from the school library in my sun-drenched room.