The Power of Books

I have been reminded a lot recently of the things I used to love when I was younger, this quote brought me back to the many times I traveled on coaches with my mum to various destinations watching the rain drops race down the window. It shocked me that I wasn’t the only one who did this and had me wondering what other things I did as a kid that others do? I also used to gaze out of the window as we were speeding along and imagine that I was racing along beside the coach like the Flash in some sort of out of body experience, like I was in a race with myself to get to the destination. Or perhaps I just wanted a cool super power?

This week I have been going through my books and found myself repeatedly smiling at the memories that came flooding back to me when I picked up particular books. Being the hoarder that I am and never parting with a book I still have all my childhood books and these are the ones that brought the most smiles to my face. I picked up a couple of my old fairy tale books, thumbing through the pages at all the bright colourful pictures that still to this day represent the images I conjure in my head of Prince Charming, Cinderella and Snow White whenever I hear their names mentioned. Being from a large family a lot of my books previously belonged to one of my siblings and I remember having to return one of these books to their original owner as they wanted to give it to their own child, I didn’t mind really even if it was one of my favourites because I hoped they would love it just as much as I did. However I remember visiting them awhile later and found by chance the same book, torn to pieces with ink scribbled all over its remaining pages and being so distraught that I vowed never to let another of my books meet the same fate (perhaps that’s why I am reticent to part with anything now).

I spent 20 years looking for a replacement book when I finally stumbled upon it by chance in a book shop in Hay on Wye, it felt like I had won the lottery. I have such an emotional attachment to particular books, books are such powerful things, they can bring us joy, sadness, fear, motivate us, teach us and stir up such vivid memories.

I have two copies of Enid Blyton’s Children of Cherry Tree Farm, because I read it so much one copy is very battered now but I still can’t part with it, because it reminds me of the times I used to curl up on my bed reading it, imagining I lived on that same farm. Maybe that is why I think of myself as a country lass rather than a city girl. Books have the power to shape us and mould us in many different ways, even without us realising it. I wonder if you have any books that make you smile? That instantly transport you back to your childhood and memories of those days when life seemed so much simpler? I would love for you to share them with me here.

Maybe one day our own writing will stir similar memories in other people?