The cover I remember.
Tuesday: When I was a child, my favorite book was A Wrinkle in Time, by Madeleine L'Engle because it was my first introduction to the science fiction/fantasy genre, and I still remember the feeling of being transported along with Meg, Calvin, and Charles Wallace to Camazotz. The story also told me that it's okay to be smart, and that I might even end up with a basketball player for a boyfriend.
Wednesday: I’d write my autobiography, but I don’t need to, because my story has already been told in Winnie-the-Pooh, by A.A. Milne. Getting stuck, being chased by bees, meeting a Heffalump--yep, been there, done that.
Thursday: I hated … when I had to read it in high school, but when I read it on my own later, I loved it because…
Now, see, this is where it gets sticky. I didn't have to read a single great book in high school. Why, you ask? Because the particular school I went to used Bob Jones University textbooks with watered down versions of parts of stories. I know, I know--believe me, I know. I took some elective literature classes as an undergraduate to make up for this fact, plus I did some reading on my own as a teenager.
There were some books I had to read either for those elective literature classes or general education classes that I decidedly did not care for--As I Lay Dying (Faulkner) comes to mind, as does a collection of Flannery O'Connor short stories. But I haven't yet gone back and read them again to see if I might have changed my mind. Maybe someday. Or not.
And today's entry--
Friday: When I want to give someone a special gift, I give them a book I think they'll enjoy or use because there's no one book I think everyone will love. Except for Goodnight, Moon and Sylvia Long's Hush Little Baby (standard new baby gifts), I don't think I've ever given the same book twice.