A Glimpse Into My Parents' Library

How Important Your Reading Habits are in Influencing Your Children to Become Readers

I’ve spoken many times about how encouraging my parents were when it came to my young reading life. You’ve heard me say this, I’m sure: I was allowed to read anything I could reach on the shelves, and I was a very tall kid. Which means I was reading well above my age very early. I read Aldus Huxley’s ROOTS and Colleen McCollough’s THE THORN BIRDS when I was in elementary school. Dr. Spock’s book on childrearing was a constant companion. Linda Goodman’s SUN SIGNS also helped me understand my personality (I am the quintessential Taurus.)

I relished the memories of my time with the Norton Anthology of Poetry; but was terrified and developed an aversion to horror after Peter Straub’s GHOST STORY. I read Camus THE STRANGER and Richard Bach’s JONATHAN LIVINGSTON SEAGULL and Erich Segal’s LOVE STORY. One of my all-time favorites that introduced me to many adult themes was Jean Auel’s CLAN OF THE CAVE BEAR.

There were science fiction novels and Shakespeare, Michael Crichton thrillers and Judy Blume books. Danielle Steele was a staple (PALOMINO remains a personal favorite.) There were books on Einstein and the heavens and all the Le Carré. Octavia Butler and Margaret Atwood and Madeleine L’Engle and Hemingway. Biographies and mysteries, romance and speculative fiction, and tons of mythology. The full set of encyclopedias and the big dictionary are well-thumbed (yes, I was one of those kids who read the dictionary for fun — and to find the curse words that I would be allowed to use once I’d correctly cited their etymology. Bitch was the most commonly quoted.)

It was heaven for a young, gawkish introvert growing up in the woods.

Photo by David Lezcano on Unsplash

I was then—as now—an agnostic reader because my parents were, too. They exposed themselves to hundreds of different kinds of stories, and in turn, gave me a diverse and fascinating literary trampoline into my adult life as a reader and writer.

As I write this, I sit in their house, looking at the bookshelves that flank the fireplace. They are selling the house soon, a horribly difficult endeavor, but one I’m glad to do with them, instead of after them. I plan to keep some of the books. Not all, but many. Especially my beloved encyclopedias. Gosh, I spent as much time reading them for fun as I did climbing the rocks in the backyard.

These shelves hold more modern books now—and several of my own. Did I ever think back then that my own stories might have their spines alongside my formative books? Certainly not. That’s as surreal as you can imagine.

I’m just grateful I can comb these shelves one last time, pulling down my favorites, my memories, and pack them in a box to ship to my home, where they’ll join my own extensive library.

Books are my life, and they always have been. And that’s because my parents were avid readers who encouraged all their children to join in the endeavor. I hope you’ll do the same for your family. The absolute power you give when you encourage and reward the reading habits of the young people around you will make an enormous difference in their lives.

Who knows. Maybe in a few years, they’ll be signing their books to you!

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