Before
we left South Africa 30 years ago, my mother lobbed a grenade in my lap. I was allowed
only 5 books in my hand luggage. No
that’s not a typo. How on earth was I going to curate my extensive collection
gathered since I first learnt to read?
She then reminded me that where ever we’d end up in the world there’d always be a library nearby. This was small comfort as books are and always will be my only security blanket. Would 5 be enough to temporarily wrap me from neck to toe? I had my doubts. I mean, I know those pages have heaps of thermal properties but … My choices would need to cover as many of my needs as possible. So I agonised for weeks and finally decided on the following books to sustain me while I endured the wait to cross library thresholds in the Promised Land:
She then reminded me that where ever we’d end up in the world there’d always be a library nearby. This was small comfort as books are and always will be my only security blanket. Would 5 be enough to temporarily wrap me from neck to toe? I had my doubts. I mean, I know those pages have heaps of thermal properties but … My choices would need to cover as many of my needs as possible. So I agonised for weeks and finally decided on the following books to sustain me while I endured the wait to cross library thresholds in the Promised Land:
FIVE: With One Voice – A Hymn book for all the
churches (filched
from school on my last day – SORRY!)
A strange one to be sure. But you need to understand why this book was part of my collection. It was the hymnal at my secondary school, St Barnabas College. While my singing skills are none existent – no, I’m not exaggerating – I loved the exuberant singing in school chapel every day. Two of my favourites to this very day are The Lord of The Dance and The Prayer of St Francis. The end of term hymn however, was always Onward Christian Soldiers and trust me, when sung by a group of students fully aware their holiday is moments away – it is a pretty rousing affair.
FOUR: The Water Babies by Charles Kingsley (a book I seem to have owned since forever
– it has my name written in it by my mother, wonderful penmanship. They knew
how to scribe in days of yore.)
I
can’t even remember when I first got this book. It’s a hardback abridged copy
from 1974 and is in a rather sorry state. The pages have turned a sort of ochre
colour. My absolute favourite thing about this book is the vibrant front cover
of a little boy riding on the back of a perch.
When I flick through the pages, the scent of childhood wafts past my
nostrils. It’s sweet and intangible but lingers endlessly. This book goes back to the days when you
didn’t even need a blurb to sell a book. You simply told the world it was a
classic and that was that.
THREE: The Prophet by Kahlil Gibran (I’m on my 4th copy of this book
because I let people borrow it. They
never return it. Can’t think why.)
This
book is marvellous in so many ways it ridiculous to try and name them. I’ve
turned to it for solace and advice more times than I can mention, including when
my mum died and later when my dad did too.
TWO: Dr From Lhasa by T Lobsang Rampa (My copy is more bedraggled than The Water Babies. It doesn’t even have
a cover. It seems sacrilegious to buy a new one.)
In our
house back then there was no division between children’s and adults’ books. My parents
put no restrictions on what I read at all. No doubt I picked up this book after
I’d finished a large pile of library books. It was my introduction to karma,
astral projection and all things psychic.
It is without a doubt the reason I often add many of these elements into
my own writing. The tattered, aged and aromatic pages of this book are all the
inspiration I need to get my writing juices flowing.
ONE: The Lord of the Rings by RR Tolkien (The entire trilogy in one tome of fabulous
Fantasy goodness. This is in fact my 2nd copy because a certain
Ashley Augustus borrowed the first and did not treat it very well. Shame on you
Ashley!)
The
main reason this is at number 1 is because it was the book which first
introduced me to Fantasy, one of my all-time favourite genres. That however is
not the only reason it’s top of the chart. A national newspaper was running a
competition in which readers had to submit a drawing of what they thought a
hobbit looked like using the description from the book. My mother’s drawing,
together with my creative input, won 3rd prize. After receiving this
mighty tome my mother then solemnly placed it into my hands, thereby sealing the fate of my
reading tastes forever.
I'm slowly getting over the trauma the 5 book event caused and was lucky enough to find several superb libraries along the way to pull me through, one of them in particular - Carnegie Library in Herne Hill. If however,
heaven forbid, you were only allowed 5 books to keep and treasure forever, which would they be and why?
So interesting - awful to have to make such choices! Wonderful choices. I'd forgotten about T. Lobsang Rampa who I read in my late teens! I think you sneaked a 6th in your suitcase though.
ReplyDeleteIf only I could have sneaked a 6th Lindsay. My mother was eagle-eyed and supervised the packing. She knew I'd have packed all the books and not bothered with the clothing. Going to reread Lobsang as soon as I get the time. Such memories.
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