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| The hectic mess that is my bookshelf |
The first book I can remember reading all the way through by
myself is Sam and the Firefly by P.D.
Eastman. It’s called an I Can Read It All
By Myself Beginner Book.
Sam and the Firefly is about an owl called Sam who wants to have fun, but everyone is asleep. He meets a firefly called Gus who at first seems a nice law-abiding citizen but then goes on to cause some major air and road accidents (spoiler, Gus ‘redeems’ himself in the end and all is happiness and joy. Except for the hundreds of people who probably died in those air and road disasters. You really don’t think about things like that when you’re five years old.)
Anyway, I grabbed this book of the bookshelf, sat myself down in the middle of my parents bed and read the whole thing out-loud to myself. I then nearly keeled over from exhaustion.
I was immensely proud of myself, and proceeded to tell any adult who would listen about my enormous achievement.
It wasn’t even a very good book, even for a five year old child, but it was the feeling of reading a book all the way to the end that I liked, so I kept going.
Sam and the Firefly is about an owl called Sam who wants to have fun, but everyone is asleep. He meets a firefly called Gus who at first seems a nice law-abiding citizen but then goes on to cause some major air and road accidents (spoiler, Gus ‘redeems’ himself in the end and all is happiness and joy. Except for the hundreds of people who probably died in those air and road disasters. You really don’t think about things like that when you’re five years old.)
Anyway, I grabbed this book of the bookshelf, sat myself down in the middle of my parents bed and read the whole thing out-loud to myself. I then nearly keeled over from exhaustion.
I was immensely proud of myself, and proceeded to tell any adult who would listen about my enormous achievement.
It wasn’t even a very good book, even for a five year old child, but it was the feeling of reading a book all the way to the end that I liked, so I kept going.
The first proper chapter books I read were ‘The Famous Five’ and
‘The Secret Seven’ by Enid Blyton (I would hazard a guess that these were many
many children’s first chapter books). Although I look cynically upon those
fictional children’s exploits now, I adored them when I was younger. I must
have read every book about three times each.
From there I moved onto Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew and anything else I could get my hands on, well anything that had a girl as the main character. I should mention, that this was a time in my life when I refused to read anything with a boy as the main character because, boys were gross and I could not relate to their petty problems (Ironically this was also the time where I was a major tom-boy).
After a while though, thanks to The Hardy Boys, I decided that books with boys in them were overall more exciting, so I broadened my reading material somewhat.
At this point, kind of stopped going outside so much and started reading a whole lot more, I blame this for my current sedentary lifestyle.
If I did have to go for a walk or something, I would read my book all the way there and all the way back, ignoring the exclamations of adults who told me I would be run over because I wasn’t paying attention (spoiler: I didn’t get run over).
I would also read everywhere else as well, in the car until I felt like puking, while I was brushing my teeth, way past my bedtime with a pocket torch, and even, I cringe to admit this, under the table when we went to a restaurant for dinner (I had even less social skills than I currently possess ok!)
After the whole Enid Blyton, kids having heinously dangerous adventures books (I am actually surprised I never tried sneaking out of my house at night after reading them) I embarked on a life of crime.
My book with proper crime in it was the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes.
This opened up a whole new world for me, not only did it give me a life-long love of crime fiction, but it also meant I became kind of obsessed with historical fiction.
After that, I moved onto the works of Agatha Christie. This, was entirely my mother’s fault. While we were at the library one day, she said “maybe you’d like Agatha Christie, but they might be a bit old for you at the moment”. I of course pestered her until she showed me Agatha Christie’s books and let me get several out. This is highly ironic, because Mum is the one who now worries when I recount the latest true crime documentary I have watched, or tell her interesting facts about how you can dissolve flesh using only laundry detergent and water.
From there I moved onto Little House on the Prairie, Anne of Green Gables, Nancy Drew and anything else I could get my hands on, well anything that had a girl as the main character. I should mention, that this was a time in my life when I refused to read anything with a boy as the main character because, boys were gross and I could not relate to their petty problems (Ironically this was also the time where I was a major tom-boy).
After a while though, thanks to The Hardy Boys, I decided that books with boys in them were overall more exciting, so I broadened my reading material somewhat.
At this point, kind of stopped going outside so much and started reading a whole lot more, I blame this for my current sedentary lifestyle.
If I did have to go for a walk or something, I would read my book all the way there and all the way back, ignoring the exclamations of adults who told me I would be run over because I wasn’t paying attention (spoiler: I didn’t get run over).
I would also read everywhere else as well, in the car until I felt like puking, while I was brushing my teeth, way past my bedtime with a pocket torch, and even, I cringe to admit this, under the table when we went to a restaurant for dinner (I had even less social skills than I currently possess ok!)
After the whole Enid Blyton, kids having heinously dangerous adventures books (I am actually surprised I never tried sneaking out of my house at night after reading them) I embarked on a life of crime.
My book with proper crime in it was the complete collection of Sherlock Holmes.
This opened up a whole new world for me, not only did it give me a life-long love of crime fiction, but it also meant I became kind of obsessed with historical fiction.
After that, I moved onto the works of Agatha Christie. This, was entirely my mother’s fault. While we were at the library one day, she said “maybe you’d like Agatha Christie, but they might be a bit old for you at the moment”. I of course pestered her until she showed me Agatha Christie’s books and let me get several out. This is highly ironic, because Mum is the one who now worries when I recount the latest true crime documentary I have watched, or tell her interesting facts about how you can dissolve flesh using only laundry detergent and water.
By the time I was fourteen, I had worked my way up through
the children and young adult sections at the library and had embarked on the
rather large and daunting adult section.
I would go home from trips to the library with a bag of books which probably weighed more than I did. And the books would be anything, from Jaimie Oliver cook books to Napoleonic spy novels to Forensic Science handbooks.
I still get massive bags of books out from the library, and sometimes I even manage to get through all of them before they’re due back.
I would go home from trips to the library with a bag of books which probably weighed more than I did. And the books would be anything, from Jaimie Oliver cook books to Napoleonic spy novels to Forensic Science handbooks.
I still get massive bags of books out from the library, and sometimes I even manage to get through all of them before they’re due back.
I am quite a fast reader, so if I’m not doing anything else
I can potentially get through about three books in a day.
The problem is however, I can’t just read one book right through and THEN start another one. Instead, I’ll be reading about seven or eight at the same time, reading a few chapters of one and then another throughout the day. Due to this, I usually finish quite a few books at the same time (usually about five minutes before I have to take them back to the library).
My personal library is at about 200 volumes at the moment and growing all the time. I can see myself potentially becoming one of those people who has furniture made of books because they have run out of bookshelf space.
The problem is however, I can’t just read one book right through and THEN start another one. Instead, I’ll be reading about seven or eight at the same time, reading a few chapters of one and then another throughout the day. Due to this, I usually finish quite a few books at the same time (usually about five minutes before I have to take them back to the library).
My personal library is at about 200 volumes at the moment and growing all the time. I can see myself potentially becoming one of those people who has furniture made of books because they have run out of bookshelf space.
So anyway, that’s basically the story of how I started reading.
What’s the first book you can remember reading? Let me know
in the comments.
If you comment I will reply.
If you comment I will reply.
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| More books |
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| Random places I have used to store books |
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| Another bookshelf |
