A childhood in books


This post is inspired by Em’s  brilliant posts here and here.  It is not so much a response to the questions posed in these posts because I have moved around a lot and books – precious books – have been lost and donated and exchanged over the years and no longer grace my bookcase.  So this is more a rumination of sorts about the books that winged their way to me when I was a young reader.  Back then in my glorious youth I was very (very) generous, even eager to share my love of reading with others.   I am wiser now about who gets to foster my books for a few days.  I have been called names no doubt by a few Philistines but it’s ok I won’t have my books’ spines twisted out of shape or their papery ears bent in punishment.

I was born into…

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