I was reading recently about a group of people who are literate, but do not read for fun. These people believe that people who read for fun are anti-social beings who do not know “how to live.” It struck me that this sentiment was somewhat akin to the phenomenon I have heard about in lower income areas, where being literate and educated is not considered “cool,” and is often seen as “selling out.” It was also noted that these same demographics often have hundreds of DVDs and video games in their house, but few books. And it got me wondering about imagination.
Kids are inherently imaginative and creative, but in order for it to survive, it needs nurturing. In our culture today, I believe we are losing that creative nurturing. From very early ages, we plop our children down in front of the TV as an electronic babysitter, and they passively ingest the information fed to them from the screen. Their minds grow as flabby and lazy as their bodies. They have no reason to create anything—the characters are there in the flesh, to be seen and heard, and there are no blanks to fill in or leaps of intuition to make. No need to imagine anything. The same holds true for video games. Putting aside the whole issue of whether the games are too violent, the games are becoming so realistic that there is no need for imagination there, either. Strategy, yes, imagination, no. Because there is usually only one specific pathway to the next level, there is no creative problem-solving—just trial and error until they hit upon the answer the game-makers wanted.
Which brings me to books. Books are the epitome of imagination. Every reader will picture the characters looking and sounding different. Some readers will get the more subtle aspects of the book, some will not. Some will make intuitive leaps, some will not. But the entire world is in their heads. And, yes, it is hard work. The reader has to do all this work themselves, involve themselves in the world on the page. They cannot sit mindlessly stuffing their faces while mesmerized by pictures on a screen. They must build a fantasy world, taking part in every aspect of it. They must actively engage it, struggle with it, triumph over it. In becoming part of the adventure, the reader shares the tragedies and triumphs of the protagonists, and in the end, has “lived” much more thoroughly than the person watching a movie. The movie viewer has observed another world, while the reader has experienced it.
Kids today are in danger of losing their imaginations. Electronic gadgets passively feed them everything they want. School curricula are often rigid, discouraging students who think “outside the box.” There has been a great deal of talk over the years about the decline of the USA in scientific innovation on an international level. Innovation of any kind requires imagination. Exercise our kids’ imaginations. Give them a book.
Books and Community
Books are magic.
This childhood belief is still with me today. And since books are found in the library, libraries are magic, too. At the main branch of my hometown library, I would trot down those white steps to the Children’s section, where they had all these books JUST FOR ME.
When I was a little older, I would ride my bike to the local library branch. It was only as big as two and a half garages, but I loved going in there. It was intimate and I knew where all my favorite books lived, which only reinforced the feeling that IT WAS MINE. My Camp Fire Girl troop decorated it for Christmas every year, and that bolstered this feeling of possession.
Even in college, when the library was on a much grander scale, I would walk though the doors and a peace would settle on me. The library calmed me, sheltered me, and educated me. I felt, in a word, WELCOME.
Libraries have always evoked a sense of belonging. That they belonged to you and you somehow belonged to them. Before the Internet, I spent hours there, as did my peers. Libraries were a community hub, and even today they reach out to the community in various ways and try to fill the needs of their patrons.
When I lived in Chincoteague, VA, last year, one of the first community events I attended was the dedication of the new wing of the library. My baby girl and I were frequent visitors there, always welcomed warmly into the beautiful children’s room the addition housed. That gorgeous addition, built to echo a lighthouse, was the direct result of years of support and fundraising from the local island community.
So for me, books and community have always gone together. Independent bookstores, too, have always evoked this feeling in me. I think that what makes most indies comfortable to me is their size, which is usually on the smaller end of the retail scale. They are eminently browseable, and permeated with the love of books. And so many of them are active supporters of their local communities, as well as hosting book-related groups and author appearances within their walls.
Even though I am a book-lover from way back, when I first heard about the Collingswood Book Festival from author friends Keith Strunk and Marie Lamba, I had my doubts about going. What could a sprawling 6-block bookfest offer to someone like me – shy, easily overwhelmed in crowds, and toting a toddler? Wouldn’t it just feel like a huge garage sale? But I decided to go to support my friends and their fellow Liars Club members Merry Jones, Gregory Frost, Kelly Simmons, Solomon Jones, and Keith DeCandido.
I loved it.
It was book overload, but in a great way. I could have spent the entire day there, browsing, listening to panels, and just enjoying the community. Did I say community? Yes, I did. The Collingswood Book Festival was a community affair through and through, with kid-oriented LoompaLand as well as music and the usual fest-type foods. Unfortunately, I could only stay a short time because of my toddler, but I will be back next year, hopefully toddler-free, to browse the day away. For another view of the Book Festival (with pictures!), visit my friend J. Thomas Ross’ blog.
Books can transport you to faraway places—and they can bring local communities closer together.
Books are magic.