When one of my sons was small, he always had his nose in a book – in honesty, they both did. But this one had an overzealous phys ed teacher tell his older brother that he shouldn’t be reading so much at recess. Me? I figured if a six year old wanted to read Harry Potter at recess, I’d just let him.

He’s still a voracious reader –  much as his mother is, and it got me thinking recently about the books I loved in my childhood. I still have some of them, although I admit that others got donated when I downsized several years ago. 

Make believe characters in the wild

I’ve just discovered that this old, faded book, called Little Grey Men, is back in print, as part of the Julie Andrews collection. I absolutely loved this book, chronicling the adventures of the last four gnomes in Britain. Originally published in 1942, I think it was my father’s originally, but I spent many a Saturday afternoon imagining this band of three brave brothers, in search of a lost fourth. They drank from acorn caps and talked with the local kingfisher. Their world was magical and I adored it. The author was a mysterious “B.B.” which played with my imagination; when I found the reprint, I also discovered the pseudonym belonged to Denys James Watkins-Pitchford, a British naturalist, children’s writer, and illustrator.

Maybe it was the wonderful illustrations in what I call the “Little Grey Rabbit” books that made this series so interesting to me. I still have one or two, although they’re falling apart. Little Grey Rabbit’s Christmas is one of them. In the books, she rescues her naughty friends, Squirrel and Hare, from their misadventures and looks for advice from Wise Owl. She was nurturing and kind and I wanted to be like her when I grew up.

Powerful girls

Fast forward a few years, and like every young Canadian girl, I read LM Montgomery’s Anne of Green Gables. The spunky Anne spoke to my rebellious side, but even more than Anne, I fell in love with Pat of Silver Bush. I drank in the descriptive narrative of a winsome young girl living in a house she desperately loves, and I’m sure it encouraged me to try my own hand at some creative writing. I wanted to be able to imagine worlds to such a fine level of detail myself. Sure, Pat was a bit stuck in her ways and abhorred change, but she loved her little world with fierce passion.

And then there was Jo. My thick red volume of Louisa Alcott’s Little Women had me spellbound. When my own little brother was driving me mad, I could escape to a world where there were essentially only girls (except for the wonderful Laurie) and I could dream about being a writer like Jo, or aspire to be kind, like Meg. I was fascinated by this family of women. I didn’t really understand, at first reading, why Mr. March was missing, and  while I grew to understand through rereading it later, I’m not sure it really matters. This book is all about the love of sisters and family.

Real life heroines

Finally, I can’t leave out the Little House on the Prairie collection. What young girl in the 1970s and 80s didn’t love Laura! I remember being disappointed when the TV series of the same name took some strange twists and turns; it was my first memory of realizing that film and TV adaptations were exactly that – adaptations, not faithful retellings. I was a little older when I realized that Laura and Almanzo’s daughter, Rose, helped with the books (how much is up for debate), and had a journalism and writing career of her own (are we sensing a pattern in what kind of reading I liked?!). When I realized she – Laura’s own daughter – was the same Rose Wilder Lane who had authored the needlework book that sat on my mothers shelf, my fictional flights of fancy became real.

How much of this inspired my own studies in journalism, my communications/public affairs career and my own books, I’ll never know. But I do know that my love of reading continues to take me to new lands, to explore new stories and provide enough hope to get me through the depths of winter and the heat of summer. Long may it continue.

Your favourites?

I have new “littles” in my life so I’m looking for more kid lit. What was your favourite childhood read? Let me know in the comments!