The Wind In The Willows And Me Too!

My favorite book as a toddler was Me Too. My grandmother kept it safe for me and bless her heart; she probably read it to me at least a thousand times. Other than bible stories that is the first book I can recall taking an interest in. Time has diminished any clear memory of the storyline but I am amazed at how often the title comes to mind.

There was not much time spent with grandma after I started school and consequently, I cannot recall ever having read a children’s book at my parents’ house until my youngest brother was born, many years after I started school. I think I must have gone straight from "Go, Jane go" to reading everything I could get my hands on. I have always loved words. I love looking at them, writing them, researching them and saying them. Regrettably, the brain and the mouth are not always coordinated. If you could only hear me say some of the words I write you would laugh yourself silly. No matter, it's the look and taste and feel that I am addicted to.

Having said all that, the point is; words as far as I can tell, are the most human of our traits. I do not feel quite as lonely when I am in some way involved with words. It doesn't really matter what I am doing; reading, writing, or listening to song lyrics or the radio, even television is word craft in motion. I truly believe the words are what set us apart.

I do rattle on and I apologize, but please, be patient. I have been thinking all day long about my heroes in the literary world and there are many. Specifically, I have been trying to figure out why I am so smitten with Lee Child (well okay he is the very definition of hunk) put that aside for the moment; and Cornelia Read. They have two distinctly different styles and they are each very gifted writers. I understand the quality of their work is the main attraction for me. That is easy to understand. What I do not get is how I could be so attracted to the genre in the first place. I will tell you truly, before I read my first Jack Reacher book, it was a rare thing for me to read anything in the thriller/suspense category. The exception there bring that I have been a Lawrence Block fan since his days at Writer's Digest. For the most part, I read history (the Celtic region of Europe) and fantasy, romance and historical romance, the classics like Dickens, Defoe, Conrad and Thoreau. Homer, even, but very seldom did I venture into the violent bloody pages of a thriller. Circuitous route there but here it comes; my favorite chapter in The Wind in the Willows is The Piper at the Gates of Dawn. When I read something written by Lee or Cornelia, I feel just like Rat and Mole on that dewy, sunlit morning when they were given the gift of the vision of the Friend and Helper. Their piping draws me near and if I should read something that would cause distress, they give me one last gift and forgetfulness diminishes my fear.

Goodness, I think I am thinking too much. That's okay. Long and drawn out it may have been; however, it came straight from the heart. Lee Child and Cornelia Read are my heroes because of all my literary heroes; they are real.

There is always hope.

Betty