Summer Reading (circa 1986)
I read this NYT piece this today...
What I Read That Summer (NY Times)
And it reminded me of my fifteenth summer. We (my parents and I) went on a week-long houseboat trip with another family. It was something the parents had reserved and paid for like a year in advance so we all knew we were going, had been planning it for a year, and the excitement was palpable.
The other family was my father's Navy buddy, his then-wife, and their son (his stepson) who was my age, but who I never once had a crush on. He was a little spoiled shit when we were kids, and we ceased having anything in common as adolescents. We just sort of endured each other. Also, at fifteen I was, all at once, not popular (in my mind), not attractive (in my mind), friendless (in my mind), socially backward (in my mind) and solitary.
Kinda how I am today.
*ahem*
So in preparing for this houseboat trip, my mom took me to B. Dalton's Bookseller and Waldenbooks (RIP you beloved mall bookstores of my youth) both so that I could stock up on reading material because it was going to be 7 days of nothing but being on a boat in the middle of a lake (Shasta to be specific). I remember packing at least 10 different paperbacks, and, dude, THANK GOD I did.
Once embarked, it took all six of us, maybe five of us because my dad's Navy buddy had more experience with fishing trips than even my dad, at least two days to come to terms with how out of touch with the outside world we were. This was 1986. No cellphones. No laptops. No gaming systems. No e-Readers. We did have a cassette player in the boat's stereo system, and there was a radio obviously but there was little to no reception out on the lake. I know, for sure, that I didn't get my first Walkman until I was out of high school so I didn't have one of those either. My point is unless you were fishing with my dad, his friend, and the stepson, there was nothing to do except sit in the boat, sit out on the deck, talk to my mom, talk to my other mother (the Navy buddy's then-wife and I were exceptionally close- I still miss her), needlepoint and/or cross-stitch (not my favorite pastime at fifteen), or swim. I retreated to the roof of the houseboat where I could be alone and I read. I read almost everything I had by the 4th day. I sat on the roof of that boat reading for so long that I got sun poisoning, my skin turned a weird ebony-ish color, and I broke out in a weird white bump rash everywhere. Then I sat inside and finished reading for the rest of the week.
It was one of my favorite weeks of all time. NOTHING but reading. Also, getting to talk about what I read with my mother and my other mother. And the silence all around us.
These are the books I have the clearest recollection of inhaling that week. There were others. I believe they were YA-romances although we didn't call it YA back then-books for teenager I think the shelves at the stores read. I think I read a V.C. Andrews series too (not the Dollagangers but one of the others done by the ghostwriters) Sadly, I don't remember these titles, but I'm sure I loved them.
Skeleton Crew/Stephen King
Night Shift/Stephen King
So, you've never experienced creepy until your houseboat gets stuck on shore the same day you read "Survivor Type" (the Navy dads worked for an entire day trying to dislodge us before taking off in our dingy for help). When night fell, your other mother keeps whispering to you in a creepy voice, "ladddddyyyyy fingers". She freaked my shit out. Honorable mentions for extra-scary houseboat reading because you're so isolated: "The Mist", "The Raft", and "Sometimes They Come Back".
I've never forgotten a freaking word of "Survivor Type" though. Honestly, I think I had to read it twice before I really understood what the hell the doctor was doing. I'm getting creeped out just thinking about it.
A Woman of Substance/Barbara Taylor Bradford
Because of its voluminous size even in paperback form I believe this took up at least two days of reading. It was glorious though. It's exactly how a grand, decades-spanning saga should be read. This was also my very first experience of crying over a death in a book. I remember this because my mother laughed at me then started crying along with me (which she still does). I am one of the few who fell deeply in love with Edwin Fairley even though he was weak and spineless and hurt Emma horribly (I'm not explaining - read the book - it's worth it). There's a passage where one of his family members recounts to a much older Emma how Edwin died and how it was apparent that he never, never, never got over her. He was on his deathbed, and he was hallucinating of being in their "special place" together and he was speaking to Emma as he died.
"Top of the world, Emma!"
I BAWLED. I'm crying now as I type this. When I die, I'll probably be screaming Edwin's line too.
*sniffle*
8 Plus 1/Robert Cormier
When I was fourteen, I read "The Chocolate War", "I Am the Cheese", and "The Bumblebee Flies Anyway". When I was fourteen, I knew exactly who my favorite author was, and his name was Robert Cormier. He is still my favorite author. I bought and read his books from fourteen years through adulthood. I still buy his books when I find the earlier titles that have eluded me. He was astonishingly talented, and, from everything I've ever read, extraordinarily gracious. I never want to meet anyone I admire because I don't want to be disappointed, but I wanted to meet him. I cannot convey the depth of my feelings for him in a blog post, but his books remain essential to my soul.
I happened upon this collection in the pre-houseboat book purchasing trip, and really didn't know what it was. So there I am, sitting alone on the roof of a boat in the middle of a river, and I discover that "8 Plus 1" is a collection of extremely emotional and lovely short stories. Each one was different, but the running theme was the familial love that you experience through a father, mother, grandparent, and teenager.. They were perfect. I kept my worn paperback for decades. I wanted to be able to hand that particular book to my own teenage offspring at a similar age so that they could derive the same comfort those stories provided my lonely self. The paperback was lost in various moves and other awful adult stuff, and there are no children for me to leave its legacy to anyway, but I did write a blog post so maybe that's enough.
Oh and I still look for the edition I had. The cover art was significantly different than what the current published version is, and, in fact, I've just done a search for an image of it and can't find it. Someday I will though. It was a beautiful illustration of a father and a teenage daughter. I'm not posting the current because it pales in comparison.
I'm so emotional now. Let's end this on funny memories...
- My mother and other mother got really drunk one night, started playing our Dolly Parton cassette tape (it was 1986), and the three of us scream-sang "Two Doors Down" like ten times in a row. We also changed the lyrics to "Two Houseboats Down".
- My parents had me create crew t-shirts for every member of the houseboat using the Navy parlance. I used glitter puffy paint or something (again, it was 1986). I made myself Chief of the Boat. I also had the best t-shirt.
This is my mother (Deck Hand) and my other mother (Mascot).
- We got off the boat one day and went to the Shasta Caverns. That is an unforgettable experience. I can still see the stalagmites, the stalactites, and the soda straws in my mind. It was indescribably gorgeous down there. I'm sure it still is. Go there if you've never seen it and want to. It is incredible.
- My mother almost puked over the amount of steps she had to climb at the caverns.
- When we got off that boat, it took like another full week to even be able to watch television again. It was isolating, but in a good way. It would be different now with all the technology, but it was a damn fun week.
For photo proof I submit this terrible photo of me because I am holding a book. I can't tell which one though.
Forgive the clothes and hair because, for the last time, dammit, it was 1986.
What I Read That Summer (NY Times)
And it reminded me of my fifteenth summer. We (my parents and I) went on a week-long houseboat trip with another family. It was something the parents had reserved and paid for like a year in advance so we all knew we were going, had been planning it for a year, and the excitement was palpable.
The other family was my father's Navy buddy, his then-wife, and their son (his stepson) who was my age, but who I never once had a crush on. He was a little spoiled shit when we were kids, and we ceased having anything in common as adolescents. We just sort of endured each other. Also, at fifteen I was, all at once, not popular (in my mind), not attractive (in my mind), friendless (in my mind), socially backward (in my mind) and solitary.
Kinda how I am today.
*ahem*
So in preparing for this houseboat trip, my mom took me to B. Dalton's Bookseller and Waldenbooks (RIP you beloved mall bookstores of my youth) both so that I could stock up on reading material because it was going to be 7 days of nothing but being on a boat in the middle of a lake (Shasta to be specific). I remember packing at least 10 different paperbacks, and, dude, THANK GOD I did.
Once embarked, it took all six of us, maybe five of us because my dad's Navy buddy had more experience with fishing trips than even my dad, at least two days to come to terms with how out of touch with the outside world we were. This was 1986. No cellphones. No laptops. No gaming systems. No e-Readers. We did have a cassette player in the boat's stereo system, and there was a radio obviously but there was little to no reception out on the lake. I know, for sure, that I didn't get my first Walkman until I was out of high school so I didn't have one of those either. My point is unless you were fishing with my dad, his friend, and the stepson, there was nothing to do except sit in the boat, sit out on the deck, talk to my mom, talk to my other mother (the Navy buddy's then-wife and I were exceptionally close- I still miss her), needlepoint and/or cross-stitch (not my favorite pastime at fifteen), or swim. I retreated to the roof of the houseboat where I could be alone and I read. I read almost everything I had by the 4th day. I sat on the roof of that boat reading for so long that I got sun poisoning, my skin turned a weird ebony-ish color, and I broke out in a weird white bump rash everywhere. Then I sat inside and finished reading for the rest of the week.
It was one of my favorite weeks of all time. NOTHING but reading. Also, getting to talk about what I read with my mother and my other mother. And the silence all around us.
These are the books I have the clearest recollection of inhaling that week. There were others. I believe they were YA-romances although we didn't call it YA back then-books for teenager I think the shelves at the stores read. I think I read a V.C. Andrews series too (not the Dollagangers but one of the others done by the ghostwriters) Sadly, I don't remember these titles, but I'm sure I loved them.
Skeleton Crew/Stephen King
Night Shift/Stephen King
So, you've never experienced creepy until your houseboat gets stuck on shore the same day you read "Survivor Type" (the Navy dads worked for an entire day trying to dislodge us before taking off in our dingy for help). When night fell, your other mother keeps whispering to you in a creepy voice, "ladddddyyyyy fingers". She freaked my shit out. Honorable mentions for extra-scary houseboat reading because you're so isolated: "The Mist", "The Raft", and "Sometimes They Come Back".
I've never forgotten a freaking word of "Survivor Type" though. Honestly, I think I had to read it twice before I really understood what the hell the doctor was doing. I'm getting creeped out just thinking about it.
A Woman of Substance/Barbara Taylor Bradford
Because of its voluminous size even in paperback form I believe this took up at least two days of reading. It was glorious though. It's exactly how a grand, decades-spanning saga should be read. This was also my very first experience of crying over a death in a book. I remember this because my mother laughed at me then started crying along with me (which she still does). I am one of the few who fell deeply in love with Edwin Fairley even though he was weak and spineless and hurt Emma horribly (I'm not explaining - read the book - it's worth it). There's a passage where one of his family members recounts to a much older Emma how Edwin died and how it was apparent that he never, never, never got over her. He was on his deathbed, and he was hallucinating of being in their "special place" together and he was speaking to Emma as he died.
"Top of the world, Emma!"
I BAWLED. I'm crying now as I type this. When I die, I'll probably be screaming Edwin's line too.
*sniffle*
8 Plus 1/Robert Cormier
When I was fourteen, I read "The Chocolate War", "I Am the Cheese", and "The Bumblebee Flies Anyway". When I was fourteen, I knew exactly who my favorite author was, and his name was Robert Cormier. He is still my favorite author. I bought and read his books from fourteen years through adulthood. I still buy his books when I find the earlier titles that have eluded me. He was astonishingly talented, and, from everything I've ever read, extraordinarily gracious. I never want to meet anyone I admire because I don't want to be disappointed, but I wanted to meet him. I cannot convey the depth of my feelings for him in a blog post, but his books remain essential to my soul.
I happened upon this collection in the pre-houseboat book purchasing trip, and really didn't know what it was. So there I am, sitting alone on the roof of a boat in the middle of a river, and I discover that "8 Plus 1" is a collection of extremely emotional and lovely short stories. Each one was different, but the running theme was the familial love that you experience through a father, mother, grandparent, and teenager.. They were perfect. I kept my worn paperback for decades. I wanted to be able to hand that particular book to my own teenage offspring at a similar age so that they could derive the same comfort those stories provided my lonely self. The paperback was lost in various moves and other awful adult stuff, and there are no children for me to leave its legacy to anyway, but I did write a blog post so maybe that's enough.
Oh and I still look for the edition I had. The cover art was significantly different than what the current published version is, and, in fact, I've just done a search for an image of it and can't find it. Someday I will though. It was a beautiful illustration of a father and a teenage daughter. I'm not posting the current because it pales in comparison.
I'm so emotional now. Let's end this on funny memories...
- My mother and other mother got really drunk one night, started playing our Dolly Parton cassette tape (it was 1986), and the three of us scream-sang "Two Doors Down" like ten times in a row. We also changed the lyrics to "Two Houseboats Down".
- My parents had me create crew t-shirts for every member of the houseboat using the Navy parlance. I used glitter puffy paint or something (again, it was 1986). I made myself Chief of the Boat. I also had the best t-shirt.
This is my mother (Deck Hand) and my other mother (Mascot).
- We got off the boat one day and went to the Shasta Caverns. That is an unforgettable experience. I can still see the stalagmites, the stalactites, and the soda straws in my mind. It was indescribably gorgeous down there. I'm sure it still is. Go there if you've never seen it and want to. It is incredible.
- My mother almost puked over the amount of steps she had to climb at the caverns.
- When we got off that boat, it took like another full week to even be able to watch television again. It was isolating, but in a good way. It would be different now with all the technology, but it was a damn fun week.
For photo proof I submit this terrible photo of me because I am holding a book. I can't tell which one though.
