Our Quirky Classics
I think that many readers have a favored childhood book that they seldom
talk about. It's not that they're ashamed about it, it's just they don't think
many people will understand. In fact, I think that they would rather they
didn't. Our quirky classics are our own secrets, our own experiences, our
private little spring that we fancy our lips alone drink from.
A moment's reflection, of course, exposes the illogicality of such a
thought. There must have been thousands of copies of our special book, and it
must have been enjoyed by hundreds. But it never reached that cult status; it
didn't spawn a series, was never part of a franchise, or had a movie, and most
people who read it then have surely forgotten it today.
If you did show it to somebody today, even to a child who was your age when
you read it, you couldn't expect them to respond like you did. They would be
puzzled, dismissive, indifferent; and you might get impatient or even angry,
but you would certainly be disappointed. Your quirky classic had reached down
into the corners of your soul and found a chair just right to sit itself on.
Possibly you lost the book somehow. It could have been in the school library,
and you moved on a grade, or it belonged to a friend who moved away, or it just
got put away in the attic somewhere with all of your parents’ stuff. Perhaps it
just dissolved through constant use (this happened to me more times than I care
to remember). What you do, if you have the time, money, and energy for such
pursuits, is you comb garage sales, second-hand bookstores, or the internet
until you get a copy. And then you hide it away.
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