To all intents and purposes I never belonged where I began. Not as a full-time adult, I mean. I learned more than I can remember about too many things to count while growing up. I’ve used that learning numerous times as well. I enjoyed the wave-like movement of all that education and wish that I could recall it all clearly.
But, I never really fit that mold. I was the one who loved classical music and opera. Somehow, I was the one who introduced me to it. I was the one who taught myself about ballet and other dance forms and watched it whenever I could. I also read Shakespeare and Tennyson in upper elementary and middle school when others my age were devouring Nancy Drew and The Hardy Boys. I never heard of those books until I was an adult.
I didn’t see anything by C.S. Lewis until in my late 30’s. All I had was adult reading material, and I learned to suck it in like a vacuum.
My family listened to early Country music much of the time that I didn’t tolerate very well. None of them could tolerate my preferences either. We accommodated the differences.
We attended great auctions back then. They were better and cheaper than going to the Drive-In theatre. Dad didn’t have to spend more than a few bucks for a hot dog and drink for each of us, and we could spend an entire evening watching people go frantic with bidding paddles and someone else’s junk. Learning how the operation worked was an education in itself. I especially learned to watch the auctioneers.
We all loved going to them.
Yet, when I was in eighth grade, my dad went to an auction without the rest of us. He returned with many things, plus a box specifically for me.
Inside it were books. The box was filled with books. The pièce de résistance nearly floored me. Nestled among the novels by Faulkner and Updike and English books, to the side of those volumes on history, was a complete set of Shakespeare bound in moss green fabric and gilt lettering (pub. England, 1863), including his sonnets and other poetry.
I knew I’d died and ascended to Heaven without realizing it. That’s when I saw the tiny tomes. Hawthorne, Melville, Whitman, Thoreau, etc. (pub. NY 1909 approx.,) each bound in exquisite jacquard fabric, small enough to fit inside a pocket, huddled behind Shakespeare like so many children behind their mother’s apron.
That one act of consideration on Dad’s part sealed my fate. I was a classicist and would never truly fit into my birth family completely. I would always love them and honor them, but never be one of them. I’d been set free with that box of books and the knowledge that my father had unwittingly given me the ticket on the train to a literary career somewhere in my future.
Looking back on that moment, I can relax now. I understand that the family that I love don’t have to understand why I do what I do, or even how I do it. It’s enough to know that they acknowledge that that’s who I am and that they accept the fact that I can’t be
… bite they little heads off, nibble on they tiny feet.
In filling my new bookshelves (hooray!) I actually got some of my Three Investigators up there. Where do you put yours? I considered shelving them by series title, since Robert Arthur only wrote the first few, and I thought about filing them under Hitchcock, since that’s who everyone associates them with (and because I have a bunch of those Hitchcock collections), but I ended up putting ‘em in the ‘A’s.
But I still might move them when we add more shelves.
what rams said. there’s no way i can hear those opening lines by b. kliben and not sing the rest of that song.
what a power-packed post. so much goodness shared, so much to check out!
Leila I wish I had enough 3 Investigators to have that problem. Mine are all Arthurs, but if I had a Hitchcock or two I’d probably store ‘em with the Arthur like you did.
Boy, what I wouldn’t give if you did with them what you did with Nancy Drew *hint hint*.
And thanks, David!
I love Cake Wrecks-I thought about sending you a link, but I was pretty sure that you were a Cake Wrecks reader!
I love Dean Trippe’s and Daniel Krall’s concept for young Lois, too, but the adventures in the proposal aren’t, well, adventurous enough yet (book one: a respected pharmaceuticals representative has cheated on the asthma drug’s safety tests in order to get a promotion and a raise; book two: an elite boarding school is giving scholarships to children of celebrities and politicians…). Also, Clark is influenced by Lois, but they haven’t met at this point, so if Clark’s story is presented separately in the same book, it will sort of stall Lois’s action. There are kinks that need to be worked out, but it’s a great concept. Is DC the only publishing outlet, because they own the characters?
Yes! That does make sense — I’d have never even considered shelving Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys under Stratemeyer instead of Keene/Dixon, so Arthur it is… until I dig out my Hitchcocks, that is. *Then* I’ll have to re-evaluate.
I don’t think I could bear to tear up one of the Three Investigators books, as I don’t have as many doubles. But maybe, someday…
Agreed. The idea of young Lois is enticing but the writing needs some work. Frankly, I don’t think we need Clark in there at all. But a young gutsy girl reporter middle grade series? Love it! Like Kiki Strike but with some social awareness.
Oh! Not to tear up the 3 Investigators for bags, but rather to do a book by book analysis of the plots, Leila. There’s a lot to pick apart there. Like the fact that they win a week with a personal chauffeur . . . and that week somehow never ends over the course of the entire series.
Someone suggested to me that Robert Downey Jr. would make a good Haymitch. The more I thought about it, the more I liked the idea. Then there’s the whole “easy on the eye” issue, as well.
Thanks for pointing people to my site!
And on the topic of creating houses… Romance fiction writer Cassie Edwards lives in a mansion modeled after Tara. Smart Bitches took her to task for plagiarism. She plagiarized from many, including N. Scott Momaday.