 Books have always been part of the warp and woof of my life’s fabric. Since boyhood, my various bedrooms have been shared with a well-stocked bookshelf, every nightstand with at least one volume sitting atop it.
My literary tastes have changed throughout the years, largely dependent upon my age and interests at the time. While I cannot remember the first book I was given, I do remember, as a 3- or 4-year-old, going to the mailbox with my mother to get the latest offering from the Sesame Street Book Club. Titles like Ernie’s Neighborhood, Early Bird On Sesame Street, and Elmo’s Alphabet not only connected me to the puppet characters I saw on T.V.; they were my first taste of a world—an imaginary world, to be sure—outside of the confines of my Kelly Road universe. The long summers of my early boyhood were also dotted with regular visits to Rawson Memorial Library. There, I borrowed Bernard Waber’s Ira Sleeps Over repeatedly. Incidentally, I bought that very book from the library book sale several years ago, and I read it to my own children today. In elementary school, my teachers placed a high premium on reading aloud to their students. I especially relished the time, right after lunch recess, when my teachers read to the class from such books as Flint native Christopher Paul Curtis’ Bud, Not Buddy, Andrew Clements’ Frindle, or my personal favorite The Bridge to Terabithia by Katherine Paterson. Entering middle school and moving to a larger school building opened a new world to me, primarily because it meant a new library. Mrs. Brown ensured the shelves there were filled with volumes that would interest young people. I can still see one particular shelf, filled-to-overflowing with blue, hard backed copies of The Hardy Boy novels. My friends and I devoured that series. In high school, my teenage journey of “finding myself” took place largely in the biography section of the school library. The life stories of men and women like Ronald Regan, Richard Nixon, Winston Churchill, Eleanor Roosevelt, and Condoleezza Rice helped me to develop an idea both of the kind of person I wanted to be and the kind of person I never wanted to become. When I was in my mid-twenties, a mutual friend introduced me to Dr. Rosalie De Rosset, who, for more than half a century, taught Literature, English and Homiletics at Moody Bible Institute in Chicago. Dr. De Rosset compiled a marvelous list of book recommendations, many of them classics, that helped me to broaden my literary appetite and to read books that dealt with timeless themes and struggles inherent to the human experience. Among these classics was Harper Lee’s To Kill A Mockingbird. When I first read it, one scene in particular stood out to me. In it, Scout, Lee’s young protagonist, goes to school for the first time. Upon learning that Scout had already learned to read, the teacher reprimands her. Assuming Atticus, Scout’s lawyer father, is the one responsible for teaching Scout, the teacher tells Scout not to allow him to teach her any longer. After all, he does not know the proper methods. The idea that she might be compelled to stop reading alarms the young girl and causes her to cling even more tightly to her books. “Until I feared I would lose it,” she says, “I never loved to read. One does not love breathing.” Living in a land where books are both plentiful and relatively inexpensive, I have never feared that reading would be taken from me by force. But, like all freedoms, outside coercion is only one means of loss. More likely is that we give them up in the pursuit of immediate charms. I experienced this a few weeks ago. After putting the children to bed, I sat in my living room watching a series of videos on YouTube. It was then that I realized that scrolling social media and watching clips online had, almost imperceptibly, become a habit. Most alarming of all was the realization that I had allowed my screen time to replace my reading time. Instead of participating with an author on a journey through another time or place, I was simply consuming the creative content (creative being a generous stretch) of others. To be sure, no one had taken my books from my hands. It was all my own doing. But the effect was the same as if someone had actually banned me from reading, and I was poorer for it. In my walk with the Lord, I have come to realize that the best time to repent of sin is the moment I am aware of it. So, too, in scenarios where I have allowed the good to displace the best. Right then and there, I decided to put the phone down and to pick up a book. What did I feel? Rebellion, mostly. I chose, in that moment, to actually live, to engage in a world of ideas and knowledge and imagination, instead of allowing unknown others to entertain me. In a time when the easiest thing to do is to merely consume, to stare passively at a black rectangle for hours on end, it felt and feels revolutionary. Do not get me wrong; I value technology and champion its responsible use. In fact, I use an app on my phone to log my reading progress and to keep track of the books I hope to read. But what a feeling it is to cut the invisible tether that binds so many of us to the ease of passivity and thoughtlessness in order to drop anchor in an ocean of ideas and other worlds! Like Scout, I had a brush with literary suffocation. And like her, I found it to be an experience that caused me to gasp for the life-giving air of the printed page.
1 Comment
 My wife always says that one of the best parts of enjoying something is sharing it with others. So, with that in mind, allow me to share just a few of my favorite things.
It was by chance that I stumbled upon Aaron Lansky’s “Outwitting History: The Amazing Adventures of a Man Who Rescued a Million Yiddish Books”, but the writing and the subject matter gripped me from page one. In a humorous, yet poignant style, Lansky recounts how a boring university class turned into an action-packed hunt for the last remaining Yiddish books in the United States. It might sound dry, but it was a page-turner that kept me up into the wee hours of the morning to see how it all ended. Potency, not humor, is Andree Seu’s specialty. Her “Won’t Let You Go Unless You Bless Me” is a slim volume that requires some thinking and a good dose of humility. Her surprisingly direct writing style may not be your cup of tea at first (it wasn’t mine), but give it a few pages; her brief essays are filled with reminders of God’s goodness, man’s sinfulness, and the redemption made possible through the shed blood of Christ. Prior to leaving for a trek up north, my wife and I had an early anniversary dinner just around the corner from our home in Metamora, at the White Horse Inn. It was our first time visiting the famed restaurant, but it won’t be our last. I had the honey plum salmon, doused in a honey-plum-teriyaki glaze, accompanied by seasoned asparagus and potatoes. She had a homemade buffalo meatloaf, served with grilled onions, mushrooms, mashed potatoes and gravy. We both gave our meals five stars. The next morning, we drove to Sleeping Bear Dunes. I have been to my share of national natural treasures and was, frankly, not particularly excited about hiking up giant piles of sand. But my mind changed as soon as we hiked a short trail and saw the splendor of Lake Michigan before us. As we watched the autumn sun make its descent, we made up our minds then and there: we’ll be returning next year. Whether motoring to northern Michigan or running brief errands into town, my drives are always accompanied by a good podcast. The World and Everything In It is the weekday news program you wished you had found years ago. It’s got the professional sound of NPR, minus the leftist bent. You’ll hear daily headlines from around the country and around the world, as well as human interest stories, book reviews, and an overview of every Supreme Court case being heard, all coming to you from a biblical worldview. If it’s history you’re interested in, download Andrew Roberts’ Secrets of Statecraft. A British historian, known for his comprehensive biographies of Winston Churchill and Napoleon Bonaparte, Roberts interviews high-profile public figures to learn how the study of history has influenced their careers and the pivotal decisions they have made. His Sept. 6 interview with Dr. Condoleezza Rice is a particular favorite. At the end of a long week, our family likes to unwind with a good movie. Recently, we watched Disney’s 2022 production of Pinocchio. Although many remakes of older movies fall flat, this one does not. While the story and scenes mirror many of those found in the 1940 cartoon, the lessons about unbridled pleasure and the dangers of autonomy are far more vivid and affecting. And it doesn’t hurt that it features the singular Tom Hanks. Winston Churchill famously said, “My tastes are simple: I am easily satisfied with the best.” I don’t know if my tastes are as rarified as Churchill’s, but I do know that my wife is right: sharing good things with others is half the thrill. |
AuthorTy Perry is a writer based in metro-Detroit. Archives
December 2023
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed