Wednesday, December 21, 2011

Note on a Bookfession: Children's Books & Why I Buy Them


I definitely think about this far more often than I should.


Okay, confession time:
     If I happen to stumble upon a particularly lovely copy of a book I adore, I feel almost obligated to take it home with me, cherish it, and then keep it in pristine condition so I can then pass it down to my children and my children’s children. I also like buying wonderfully illustrated, well-written, and imaginative children’s books for this same purpose. I just can’t help but imagine myself one of these far off days, sitting on some threadbare (and it will be threadbare, I care far too much for things that haven’t the slightest chance in ever making me any substantial amount of money, ever) couch somewhere in a cozy little house with a little boy or girl curled up in my lap as I read to them, and so I just can’t help but feel the need to stockpile now so that I can have a treasure trove of wonder to dip into when it comes time to really use it. I just want my children to grow up with books, to learn to treat them as they would very old friends as they go about finding their way through the world with the benefit of a richly fed imagination to keep them company.
     Ridiculous, I know… But with each passing year I seem to come more and more to terms with my persistently romantic, often overly sentimental nature. Nowadays I do my best to take it in stride, buy the darn book if it isn’t too hideously expensive, smile a little as I put it someplace safe and think in my heart, someday.
     Okay, I promise to stop rambling now.
Love you all,
Torey

Monday, December 19, 2011

A Note on Letter Writing



     A short text or email can only say so much and last so long… Write a letter instead; it is much more easily stowed away in drawers and stolen out again for second, third, and fourth readings. I’ve kept every single one I’ve ever received and have taken great care in the writing of every one I’ve sent… There’s just something more inexplicably personal to the writing of such messages and the reading of another’s handwriting than can ever be found in the uniform text of an email or instant message. Never give it up, I say. And never I shall. 
     On another note, did you know that the poet John Keats once said that if he glimpsed a note with his lover’s handwriting - the very same one whom he had only recently been forced to part from due to a debilitating illness on his part and the constraints of that particular era’s propriety on hers - that he would dissolve completely into despair for love and want of her at the very sight? It probably is just the uncompromisingly romantic side of me, but I find this little fact not only ridiculously heart wrenching, but also something that truly speaks to the monumental level of intimacy that the handwritten note can carry as opposed to our more modern modes of communication.
     Would John Keats have felt nearly as moved after scanning a message sent from his fair lady’s cell or gmail account? I think not.
[rant/FINIS]
Apologies as they are due,
Torey