How many of the readers of this blog remember the Scholastic Book Club? You might remember getting the little pamphlet once a month with listings of books you could order, often at very discounted rates. I remember getting that little flyer with fondness. I would voraciously devour it, reading the description of every offering for that month, and making a list of the ones I wanted. I would run home from school, and hand it to Mom or Dad with puppy dog eyes. I needn't have bothered begging. No matter how tight our money situation might have been, my parents always came up with the necessary money by the deadline for it to be turned into my teacher. A few weeks later, my monthly Christmas arrived in a box in my classroom, and a bundle of books was delivered to my greedy little hands. This was followed by hours of quiet time in my room reading each and every one of those books, knowing that I had to finish them before I could start on the next month's stack. Those are some of the best memories from my childhood.
I was raised in a variety of small towns and mid-sized cities, in several states. It was a quiet world. Books opened up a far wider world to me than the one I was living. I traveled to big cities, other countries, and even other worlds through books. I traveled to the past and future. Oz was a frequent destination, as I read, and re-read, The Wizard Of Oz so many times I lost count. To this day, I credit Frank L. Baum with my abiding love for fantasy novels. I discovered science fiction through H.G Wells, and Jules Verne, thrilling at the Morlocks and the giant squid of The Time Machine and 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea, respectively. I still love science fiction, too. When I was about eight years old, I discovered mythology, devouring everything I could find on Roman and Greek mythology. A year or so later, I discovered Edgar Allan Poe.
Before I learned to read, I was a movie and TV fanatic. Science fiction, fantasy, and horror were my favorites. When I began reading, I discovered that books led me to a deeper involvement with the stories than TV and movies did. My mind made the pictures in my head, and they were far richer than what I saw on our TV screen. I still was, and am, a movie fanatic. However; books became as beloved to me as any image I saw on our little 12 inch color TV. Discovering Poe took me deeper into books than I had ever been, and horror became my favorite genre.
Poe's stories drew me in like iron filings to a magnet. I was totally absorbed by both his stories and his poetry. They raised goosebumps on my skin. I have re-read his works again and again during my life, and still get those chills. Very few writers have ever been able to rivet me to the written page like Poe. Stephen King may be the lone exception. Though very different in style and substance, both have a way of writing that makes me want to repeatedly read their works. I call Poe a writer, and King a storyteller, but both have me as a fan for life.
As I approach a half century on this planet, I find myself wanting to share that love of reading with as many people as I can. So, I decided to start a blog reviewing the books I read as I finish them. Some will be new books, while others may be books I find in a used bookstore, or maybe something I discover through the dollar store. The only value books have is in the story they tell, I find, so it doesn't matter how much you pay for it. So, I will be adding reviews here as often as I can, and I hope they help you, the reader, to find books that take you away into a different world as well.
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