And it got me to thinking: what about books in my childhood? I was a ravenous, passionate reader from an early age. Could I really point to just one book? No. But I will narrow it down to two. Casey the Utterly Impossible Horse, by Anita Feagles was the first chapter book I was able to read on my own. It's a wonderfully silly story about a demanding, vain, talking horse who insists he needs his own pair of pajamas. I read it over and over to my father, and we laughed at the horse's foolishness. This book not only marks my ability to read on my own; it also marks a happy time in my childhood. When I was about nine, I discovered a book in my elementary school library: Season of Ponies, by Zylpha Keatley Snyder. I read that book so many times, my name filled up both sides of the check out card. Mrs. Conway, the librarian, had to put in a new card for me to fill up. Why did I read it over and over? It was about a girl who had lost her mother and her father. She was a girl, like me, who's heart was broken and who loved horses, and who longed for things hard to express. It was a book filled with longing, and sadness, and magic, and hope, and horses. I found a friend and myself in that book.
So tell me. What book spoke to you, what book enveloped you, and possibly, shaped you as a child?