Early Reading Experiences
Books and reading were an important part of my early childhood experiences. As a young boy, I read a mish-mash of science fiction, adventure, mysteries, and military fiction stories.
My family did not have much money and our small town library did not stock many science fiction titles, so we swapped books a lot. One of my neighbors and a few of my dad’s friends were voracious readers and every month or so, Dad would bring home a grocery bag full of dog-eared paperbacks. The bags exuded that wonderful aroma of musty-dusty shelves and old paper. For me, the bags were equal parts reality and magic. Every cover was a doorway to distant lands, new sights, and new adventures. I can still remember my delight when I pulled the first head-to toe (tête-bêche) book from the bag. The back cover of the first book was actually the front cover of the second book, but rotated 180 degrees. How cool was that? Because so many people contributed to each bag, the contents also included a wild mixture of other titles and genera. Sometimes the bag contained a classic such as Ivanhoe, a Western horse opera, Doc Savage, or a Mickey Spillane book. Special bags would have one or two yellowed copies of SciFi magazines like Astounding or Amazing Stories. I don’t know if it was my imagination or reality, but the older yellowed books always seemed lighter than the newer books.
With this sharing program, I always had five to ten books waiting to be read. I would read the books and return them to the bag. When the bag was full, I swapped it with my neighbor for a bag of his books. My dad would take my neighbor’s books and swap them with one of his friends. I never really knew how far this sharing circle extended, but I was grateful for its existence.
My family did not have much money and our small town library did not stock many science fiction titles, so we swapped books a lot. One of my neighbors and a few of my dad’s friends were voracious readers and every month or so, Dad would bring home a grocery bag full of dog-eared paperbacks. The bags exuded that wonderful aroma of musty-dusty shelves and old paper. For me, the bags were equal parts reality and magic. Every cover was a doorway to distant lands, new sights, and new adventures. I can still remember my delight when I pulled the first head-to toe (tête-bêche) book from the bag. The back cover of the first book was actually the front cover of the second book, but rotated 180 degrees. How cool was that? Because so many people contributed to each bag, the contents also included a wild mixture of other titles and genera. Sometimes the bag contained a classic such as Ivanhoe, a Western horse opera, Doc Savage, or a Mickey Spillane book. Special bags would have one or two yellowed copies of SciFi magazines like Astounding or Amazing Stories. I don’t know if it was my imagination or reality, but the older yellowed books always seemed lighter than the newer books.
With this sharing program, I always had five to ten books waiting to be read. I would read the books and return them to the bag. When the bag was full, I swapped it with my neighbor for a bag of his books. My dad would take my neighbor’s books and swap them with one of his friends. I never really knew how far this sharing circle extended, but I was grateful for its existence.
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