I have built a house made of books, and it's supported by a Dr. Seuss foundation. Without the coaxing of his words and illustrations, my imagination wouldn't be what it is today. He gave me what has turned out to be the greatest gift I could ever receive in my life, the gift of a vivid imagination. I fell in love with Green Eggs and Ham at the age of 3, and I haven't stopped reading since.
Judy Blume is the beautifully crafted front door. She guided me through the important prepubescent ages, her stories like comedies to me. When I read Tales of A Fourth Grade Nothing, I laughed to myself, thankful I didn't have a little brother. Little did I know I was getting that little brother 3 years later.
Stephen King is the basement, the scariest room of any house. He welcomed me to the Middle School Library with open arms and Richard Bachman welcomed me with Rage, The Long Walk, and The Running Man. Nobody has scared me more in my lifetime than my literary hero. He speaks a language that my own dark side responded to, and continues to respond to. Many a night he made me fall asleep with the light on, too afraid of what could be in the dark to turn it out. I owe this man a deep debt of gratitude.
John Steinbeck represents the kitchen, the one room of the house that brings everyone together. He stole my affections from Stephen when I met James Dean my sophomore year of high school. After seeing East of Eden, I had to read it. Cover to cover and then on to the next. Cannery Row, Sweet Thursday, Tortilla Flat, Grapes of Wrath, Of Mice and Men, and The Winter of Our Discontent. The ending on Winter reminded me a bit of the Coen Brothers movie, No Country For Old Men. It just ended........
Christopher Moore's work of greatness are the windows. He turned me on to a whole new kind of reading, offering me a new view on Fiction with FOOL. I love his characters and his far fetched sense of humor. His words have been known to bring me to hysterics. I recommend him highly to anyone looking for someone newish. Note: Just because I started with FOOL, doesn't mean that you have to. I also loved A Dirty Job, The Stupidest Angel, Lamb: The Gospel According to Biff, Christ's Childhood Pal; and Fluke, or I Know Why the Winged Whale Sings.
In the front yard I have planted a garden of my own characters, watering them every day with words. I watch them grow from bulbs of idea into neat little rows of books. When they are finally ready to be plucked from the vine, I will share them with the world. One child at a time.
How nice it is to live in this house, the house that books built.
