Tuesday, June 19, 2012

libero

why is it that children's books are the ones that stick with me? not too long ago i unpacked my boxes of books, cradled them lovingly and placed them on my new bookshelves in meticulous alphabetical order. now, when i look at my books all lined up in rows, i realize how many of these books i read for the first time when i was 10, 11, 12 - and have re-read so many times since that the pages are beginning to detach from the spines, that the corners where i turn pages are so worn that they're permanently bent into turning position.

when i re-read these books, today, it's like reuniting with a long-lost friend. it's in the re-reading of these books, as an adult, that i truly see the care and nuance placed into these books intended for children, the themes and literary devices so seamlessly placed within the narrative that my 10-year-old self had no idea they were even there. but now, instead of just enjoying the story and characters, i can really appreciate the deeper meaning - and even if there was no deeper meaning intended, isn't it remarkable that these books still have aspects i can relate to, more than 10 years later?

the joy of these books will always transcend time for me. in the past month jeff has awoken many a time from his slumber to see me sniffling, teardrops falling onto the already long-stained pages, desperately wiping my face with the sheet or pajama sleeve. i have loved these books for so long that they are a part of me, that the characters are my best friends, that what happens to them, in a way, also happens to me.

maybe it's because these books are written for the naturally innocent; for those who, even if they've experienced hardships, are not yet marred by the cynicism of adulthood. they're not jaded, yet. they have no need for swear words or sex scenes or love triangles. as we grow, many of us become convinced that we need at least one of these things for a story to be "realistic." but, as the unicorn gaudior says in a swiftly tilting planet, "what is real?" good children's stories are innocent and straightforward and not marred by the unnecessary filler many young adult and adult novels (and bad children's books, for that matter) fall prey to. and still, good children's stories say something about life, about death, about friendship, about family, about love, about the world we live in, about the world beyond our doorstep, beyond our country, and even beyond our own planet.

too many times i've stepped into the library, lingering for what i deem to be an appropriate amount of time in the adult fiction stacks, maybe picking out a classic or two, maybe coming across an old favorite i already know to be decent, maybe seeing an new offering from an author i already like.

but then, then - i tiptoe my way to the children's section and push my way past the tiny tables and chairs and around the picture books and there - there is where my heart lives. there is where i marveled at how the westing game just had to have been written backwards, because it's so clever. there is where i laughed and laughed at the wayside school kids. there is where i peeked into the fictional diaries of pioneers and slaves and peasants and merchant girls and princesses and queens long gone. there is where i traveled to europe in bloomability and road-tripped across the west in walk two moons. there is where i cried over beth march and pined over laurie lawrence. there is where the phantom tollbooth taught me about wordplay and the power of imagination. there is where countless fairy tales have been told and retold until i knew them backwards and forwards. there is where harry, ron, and hermione taught me about courage and friendship and goodness and truth in the face of evil and war, with a bit of mischief thrown into the mix. and a hundred other things. and a thousand other things.

you can call me juvenile. you can say that i don't understand the nuance of true adult literature. and perhaps i don't. but, perhaps, i don't really need it - not all of it, anyways. for these are my old friends, and they have stayed with my thus far, and they'll stay with me as long as i shall live.