The Child That Books Built (Paperback)

Here's a simple test to see if you'll like this book- does this: "It was as if Puffin were part of the administration of the world. They were the department of the welfare state responsible for the distribution of narrative." give you a shiver of recognition? If so, you'll find much to enjoy here.

It's full of little things that strike chords: the feel of old libraries, the terror of horror stories that imaginative children have; the phrase 'stepping lightly from C.S. Lewis to Jane Eyre'.

My complaint would be that it is a little academic in parts- if we wanted the philosophy and analysis of our childhood reading, we've probably done it already. What I wanted more of were the small joys; the little nostalgias. Where children hide to read books; what pleases and what annoys, and I'd have liked more of Spufford's home life. There are also disappointingly few books covered- more than just a skimming of Leon Garfield, Ian Serrallier or Peter Dickinson would have been nice, and perhaps a little less of the visiting the 'Little House on the Prairie' jaunt. Also, I suppose as a girl I missed the feminine side- Anne of Green Gables, Katy, the Chalet school et al.

But these are small grumbles set against what a lovely thing this is- it was suggested to me after I read 'Stet', which I would also recommend wholeheartedly- for all of us who, as an erstwhile friend of mine said, 'don't so much like books as suffer from an obsessive-compulsive illness'.

Spufford was a voracious reader as a child, finding an escape from his family's heartrending and guilt-inducing medical problems behind the printed lines on a page. While writing this memoir of childhood reading, he reread all the books he had loved--from Where The Wild Things Are to Narnia and Little House on the Prairie, and attempted to find out just why he had read so catatonically, and how it had shaped him.

There's a great deal of pleasure to be found in reminiscing along with Spufford about your own first reading of The Hobbit, but he offers far more than a simple nostalgia-fest. He also discusses the theories of child psychologists on the importance of reading and the ways in which it can teach a child about language and the patterns in the world. Some people seem to have found this too dry and academic--and it isn't as interesting as the sections dealing with his own life--but stick with it! Spufford is discussing something very important: WHY is it better for your child to spend 3 hours reading than 3 hours on the Playstation?--and believe me, this proves that it is!

The rest of the book discusses Spufford's adolescence; the years when Narnia had lost its magic, but the world of adult books hadn't yet opened its doors. There are some great insights into sci-fi--The Left Hand of Darkness gets special mention and praise. Also interesting is his consideration of the root which many teenagers follow, walking out of childhood via the classics; Austen or the Brontes bridge that gap which he calls 'The Hole'.

I've always loved books about books and reading, and I recommend this to anyone who feels the same. Not quite as enjoyable or loveable as Anne Fadiman's Ex Libris (highly recommended) but this is a great, entertaining and educating read. One of the most unusual and moving books of the year.