I wonder if the books we get read to us when we’re very young, and which we first read when we’re able to do it for ourselves, set the “preferred genre” button in our brains. I’ve always loved fairy stories, myths and legends and the more dragons, the better. However, as an adult, I’ve met people who think that fantasy and sci-fi books are a waste of time. They prefer romances, or biographies, or self-help books, or “ordinary” stories. I suppose wondering why we have such different tastes is similar to wondering why some people love apples, some love bananas and others avoid fruit like I avoid cauliflower. But, I do think that perhaps what we read, and enjoy, when we’re a very young age must have some bearing.
One of the earliest memories I have of a book is a picture book. I can’t remember the title, but I do remember that it was based on a German folk tale. It involved three animals – a donkey, a cat and a rooster – that got lost in a forest at night. They were scared witless but they stuck together and bumbled their way through the woods. When they saw a cottage with a light in the window they peeked inside. The cat stood on the donkey and the rooster stood on the cat. The person inside saw a three-headed monster peering in at them and they were as frightened as the animals. It was a great story with beautiful, vivid illustrations. I wish I could remember what it was.
When I was in primary/grade school I devoured every book in the school library. I read the usual suspects – Enid Blyton was one of the main contenders – but I also loved Grimm’s fairy tales and folk tales from foreign lands, like Persia and India. Then I was given “The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe” and I was in love. Goodbye “Secret Seven” and hello Narnia!
We were poor when I was little, although I didn’t realise it at the time, and books were a wonderful way to escape into a land of colour, excitement, adventure and mystery. And, one of the things that drew me to the more fantastical and magical stories was that the children in those books seemed more real. (Ironic, hey?) They weren’t always perfect, they made mistakes and got grumpy and threw a tantrum now and then, but they were also brave and determined and somehow won the day, against all manner of weird beasts and wicked grown-ups. They made the characters in the ordinary books seem a little insipid. I also read “Pollyana” and I knew that no one is that nice, all the time. Try using a Pollyana attitude on the White Witch in Narnia and see where it gets you!
I like what Neil Gaiman wrote. “Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten.” Well said, good sir!
What did you read when you were just a little tacker? And, do you think it has directed your taste buds in any way?
Now I understand why I have spent my life trying to be Biggles.
All it’d take, Ken, is a few flying lessons. Go for it!