I’ve decided to count down to Thinksgiving, and take a moment each day to think about things I’m thankful for.
Number Three: Books.
The reading of them, the writing of them, of the making of books there shall be no end. I surround myself with them, in part because they help insulate the walls in the wintertime, but mostly because I’ve so often found a wonderful world waiting for me on the other side of a wall of words, full of magic, of science, of fascinating characters, of bastards and dastards and witches and bitches and lions and tigers and bears, oh my.
My favorites have always been those that reference books that have come before, whether those of the author or others – the quiet in jokes that solidify the conversation between reader and writer. When the protagonist mentions something that happened in Oz, or Middle Earth, or Narnia, it’s a wink from the author, saying, ”I’ve read those, too.”
The three lunatic children have been known to describe the house as living in a library, and for the chance to offer them two thousand passports to distant lands, I am thankful.