A Book Unread

About 30 years ago I purchased two of D.H. Lawrence's books .. Sons and Lovers and Women in Love...new from Coles...full price.
These books languished for various reasons on the shelf...usually side by side. . untouched and unread...jackets fading, glued binding getting frailer and frailer over the years, dust gathering on their edges.
I recently decided that NOW is the time to finally pick... one of these papered pieces of print to gaze at while the words of the author create his characters, drama, and scenery in the vast .somewhat empty and unused spaces of my brain.

The cover fell off almost on the first day of handling...taking with it the introduction and first page of the 1st chapter. Bits of 'spinal glue' chipped off at every caress of the hand that turned the page.

ENTER the Guttenberg Press and the Adobe Digital Reader along with a few seconds of downloading an Voila.... Women in Love is created in digital form on the lap top...available at the will of a click of a mouse, screen size and font adjustable.

The paper edition now lies untouched, pages never turned, typed print never decoded, characters never revealed on paper, the voice of the author a little more removed from the original pen and ink in which it was first recorded.. It lies alone by the bedside-- a tangible treasure never again to be part of the ritual that involves the sound of page turning, bookmarks, glasses

Book Choosing

I am in the process of  Book Reading that in some ways I find almost as interesting (alas) as in the reading for some--it is the Choosing.

I walk around the house, checking the shelves in the living room, the extra bedrooms, and the den. 
I peer and pull, read the titles,  names of authors,  and reviews on the book jacket if it has one.  I sometimes choose according to my list of Good Reads which I have  downloaded from the Net. 

Sometimes I choose according to genre as in  historical fiction, mystery,  soft fantasy or self-help, or some combination thereof. 

Sometimes I just sit and read recipe books. The Bible , being a great reread,  even gets picked up upon occasion for a chapter or two.  

Other times I choose according to a repeat author, although not often, as I like to check out various writer's styles.  Mark Twain, Mauve Binchy, Agatha Christie, Ken Follet, Colleen McCullough, James Clavell ,  J. R. R. Tolkien, L. M. Montgomery,and  John Updike, ( didn't that Rabbit just need a slap on the upside of his head?) are  just a few author repeats. Some because of their quality. Some because of availability.

I avoid reading any book that someone else in the house has just read. Nor do I like someone reading a book that I have just read.  To me it is like the 'stealing'  of a good friend.   I just find it creepy that someone sitting beside me would be peering into 'my book', experiencing the same words and thoughts that 'my author' had just recently revealed to me and that person getting to react to the characters in the same manner as I, or even worse--have a different reaction.  I can't help but feel just a little jealous when I see my dear old friend sitting on the other bed stand, or being  attentively carried around and watch it being picked up, held and its pages gently turned, and  with each turn convey to someone else its adventures, ideas, and emotions. You may call it weird but that's just the way I feel about what I refer to as Copy Cat Reading.  

 Sometimes I  choose by size and even weight.  A friend is currently reading a 900 page book that he claims weighs at least five pounds.  Who would have thought that a book about Cleopatra would be that weighty? Imagine having that sitting on your chest while reading late at night or carrying it around on a bus trip?  No stashing that one in your carry on or casually laying it down on a lunch counter at a rest stop.

So after about 45 minutes of just walking around the house-- perusing, analyzing and trying to  imagine the subjects and plots ( a totally futile effort), I have finally made a choice.

It should travel well in case I do.  It should be worthy of my time and attention, which I believe it is as it is considered one of the Top 100 books of the 20th Century. I have heard of it but not enough to spoil the suspense. 

 Although I probably won't carry it in my pocket and will not likely meet anyone in Uniform while reading it, I do think it will be good company for the next few days.

1st Published 1930 .  This Pocket Edition was done 1944.  Please note the black box on the lower right hand side on the back cover.

A movie with Humphrey Bogart and Lauren Bacall was made in 1941.

Reading/Writing, 'Rithmetic

 

It has been 54 years since I first started school.  I was 6 years old and attended a one room school house on the Canadian Praries. 

On that first day my hand had to stretch to get a good grip on  my 4 small lined notebooks along with my wooden pencil box, which I had recently received as a 6th birthday gift, and new tin lunch kit  resting on my knees while riding in the car with Mother at the wheel traveling over 2 1/2 miles of mostly dirt and gravel roads to the most mysterious and exciting place I could imagine. 

 I did not know what reading was,except for the fact that my sister read Thorton Burgess stories to me occasionaly. I really didn't know what school was except for going to see a couple of Christmas concerts, along with  whist drives and box socials that  our  family had attended.

Inside there was the following:

Fourteen students. Grades 1 to 9.
Two students in Grade One. 
Twenty books in the library. 
Blackboards truly black.
Painted wooden floors. 
Cream Can with 'fresh' water.
One teacher.
Several bicycles along the side of the school.
A barn on the far side of the playground.

I can clearly remember the teacher, a 19 year old, asking everyone in the school to come up and introduce themselves to the class. My sister, who was in Grade 7, commented to Mom when we got home that she was so embarrassed because I had talked so loud and so long. 

Although it didn't happen on the very first day, I do remember going to the board and being taught how to write my own name, learning the number  1-- (THAT was a cinch), and being allowed to use the biggest thickest red lead pencil I had ever seen. 

Then I was handed this book...

                   

...and after about three weeks of school I was handed this book...

            I remember being just a little bit suspicious of that 'Dick type' guy with the water hose.

 

 

   LOOK!

 

        I had learned to read!

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

Teachers that taught me some things somewhere sometime along the way:


Mr.  C. Datchko-  Grades 1 and 2
Miss Doreen Haggard -Grade 3
Mrs.  C. Kenyon- Grade 4 (until Thanksgiving--she was also my Dad's teacher at one time).
Mr. Irvin Krug-  Grades 4, 5, and 6.
Mr. Bing Runquist -Grade 7
Mr. John Brown- Grade 8
Mrs. Darlene McCall- Grade 9
Mrs. Louise Heuchert- Grade 10
Mr. Baines- Grade 11
Mr. Brian Clarke- Grade 12
Mr. Clay, Mr. Dosange, Mrs. Engle , Mr. Lavigne, Mrs. Krause, Mr. Pugh.