by James R. Preston
"Do not read, as children do, to amuse yourself, or like the ambitious, for the purpose of instruction. No, read in order to live." - Gustave Flaubert
You love books. If you didn’t love books and stories you wouldn’t be here.
I love books, too, always have. I think we should take a break from studying the art & craft of writing, c’mon, how about a few minutes spent telling stories of our early experiences with books and reading? Don’t worry— I have a purpose in mind. We’ll get to that.
My Earliest Books
I started collecting books when I was nine years old, really. Some relative gave me The Hardy Boys: The Tower Treasure and I was hooked. All at once I realized, looking at the fly leaf, that there were other books about Frank and Joe and their pals.
At once I started marking the list on the dust jacket to keep track of the ones I owned. When my birthday arrived with five dollars from my grandmother I begged my mother to take me to the Robinson’s department store so I could hit their book section.
My next round of authors
But it hasn’t always been fun, oh, no!
My cousin introduced me to Ian Fleming and from there I went on to Donald Hamilton and Matt Helm. (If you’ve had the misfortune to sit through any of Dean Martin’s Matt Helm movies please forget them and find the books. A singing spy! Gag me!)
Anyway, the Matt Helm paperbacks were where the trouble started. I went to the drug store in El Segundo, CA where I bought many of my paperbacks and found a new thriller called Murderer’s Row. The cover had a young woman in a party dress wading out of the surf with one strap down over her shoulder.
The old guy behind the counter took one look at her, pushed the book back toward me as if he didn’t like touching it, and said, “Oh, you don’t want that.” I was in junior high so I didn’t understand; I just started going on “This is a new Donald Hamilton and I think he’s as good as Ian Fleming, and the stories are about a spy named Matt Helm and” and on and on. (I didn’t understand that he thought I was buying something like Topless Hotties from Outer Space.)
I wore him down and got the book.
Then I switched library sections
Now the game’s afoot! Sherlock Holmes — wow! I found The Complete Sherlock Holmes in the El Segundo public library, in the Adult section when I was about twelve. I had to enlist parental help to get a card (the librarian told my mother “We have a fine Children’s section” to which my mother replied “Yes. He’s read them.”
I got an Adult card ahead of my time.
Here’s the commercial: support your local library. They need all the help they can get.
I brought the book home around noon, started reading and only looked up because it was getting too dark to see. I’ll never forget it.
Another birthday, another present from Grandmother, and another trip to Robinson’s where I found a hardback Sherlock, except . . .
The lady didn’t want to sell it to me, explaining that I’d be better off with The Boys Sherlock Holmes. This time I could not convince her so I found my mother, who explained that I’d already read the whole thing and now wanted a copy for my collection.
I got the book.
I wasn’t always fighting for a book.
There were occasionally unexpected benefits. For example, Frank Herbert’s Dune almost got me a job.
A couple of us were picked out of Trigonometry to interview with Computer Science Corporation for summer jobs. The interviewer asked what I liked to read and I said I was reading and loving Dune serialized in Analog Science Fiction magazine. He was too, and loved it and said if my friend didn’t take the job I could have it.
He was sailing through Trig; I was slogging and was glad when he got the job. But I sure liked talking to an adult about the Harkonnens and the worms.
“We read to know we are not alone." - C.S. Lewis
I’ve seen film of soldiers waiting in landing craft, waiting to pick up a rifle and wade ashore at D-Day — reading A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. Larry Niven tells the story of an Israeli soldier who carried one of his books through the Six- Day War. My godson carried a copy of Heinlein’s Starship Troopers on his first deployment to the Middle East.
Books, stories, helped them all.
My father collected westerns.
He assembled a complete set of novels by B. M. Bower, who had to use initials to disguise the fact that she was a woman. He and I used to go book hunting together and on one of those trips I found the book you see above. How traveled it has been!
- The USS Sitkoh Bay
- Travis Air Force Base
- then a library
- Salvage
- and then to a used bookstore.
Now I have it. The stories it could tell!
The stories you can tell!
I promised a purpose to this essay and there it is. Books, stories, are important. The line stretches back to the storyteller relating the adventures of Beowulf and his Spear Danes, forward to — you.
So, when you wake up at 2:00 a. m. and think, “Oh, man, I don’t know what happens next,” take heart. You’re in good company. You’re not alone. From campfire to keyboard, you’re not alone.
So — Who? Who? Who wrote the Book of Love? Why, you did, along with the many others who came before us.
And thanks to this award-winning blog you’re really not alone, because now it’s your turn. I know you all have similar tales about stories and what they meant to you. Help your fellow ink-stained wretches and share some. Please. It’s important, just as your work is important.
To end -- a few words from my favorite band:
“Dear Sir or Madam, will you read my book? It took me years to write, will you take a look?”
With a little help from our friends, we can all be paperback writers. That’s a hint. Not a big enough hint? From Flaubert to Paul McCartney – that’s quite a range, providing room for all of us.
About James
James R. Preston is the author of the multiple-award-winning Surf City Mysteries. He is currently at work on the sixth, called Remains To Be Seen. His most recent works are Crashpad and Buzzkill, two historical novellas set in the 1960’s at Cal State Long Beach. Kirkus Reviews called Buzzkill “A historical thriller enriched by characters who sparkle and refuse to be forgotten.” His books are collected as part of the California Detective Fiction collection at the University of California Berkeley.
Find out more about James at his website.
Top photo from Unsplash.
