As a double grandparent, I feel the obligation to pass on
the love of books to my granddaughters.
Since neither live within 200 miles of me, this is a little difficult—I can’t
read books to them as often as I would like.
So, right now, I’m mainly just buying and shipping the books in the forlorn
hope that if I stack up enough of them in their rooms, it will eventually reach
educational critical mass.
Never having been a little girl, picking the appropriate books
for then is rather difficult.
Eventually, I just decided to buy the books that I loved as a
child. After all, what could possibly be
wrong with my granddaughters being more like me? I am sure that their mothers will agree.
First, I decided to send all the children’s books from the house. This would inevitably open up space for me to
purchase more books for myself. After a
brief search, it was rather obvious that we didn’t have that many. Years ago, I bought books for the two boys,
What’s-His-Name and The-Other-One by the truck load. What happened to them?
No matter, I have an account at the local used book store
where my credit balance must be in quadruple digits from taking them all the
unwanted textbooks that publishers mail me in the vain hope that I will require
my students to buy copies. At least once
every two weeks, I am the recipient of a valuable gift such as The History
of the US Postal Service: 1824-1832.
It was hard to part with such a treasure, but I managed.
Unfortunately, my favorite local used book store was strangely
out of good children’s books, too. Almost
none of the titles that I remembered from my youth were in stock. I found a copy of Twain’s Tom Sawyer,
but the store only had four bedraggled copies of the Hardy Boys. Where did the rest of them go? The Hardy Boys have been in continual
production since the 1920’s under the pseudonym of Franklin W. Dixon. Actually, Dixon never existed and the books
were written and rewritten by a series of underpaid ghostwriters. I can remember when my nephew was reading an
ancient copy of “The Tower Treasure” when he suddenly had a vocabulary
problem.
“What’s a jal-o-py?” he asked. It took me a second to understand what he
meant--no one jumps in a jalopy to chase after criminals anymore. Maybe one of the car companies should think
about introducing a line of jalopies—authors everywhere would be appreciative. A chase scene in a Honda Accord lacks
panache.
I have no idea how many millions and millions of copies of
these books have been printed (the vast majority of them were hard backs). Where are they? I know I gave one copy to my nephew, but
where are the rest? And what happened to
all the Tom Swift books? The Nancy Drew
series? I snatched up a single dog-eared
copy of L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time but could find not a single copy of Freddy
the Detective by Walter R. Brooks.
Where was Robert Heinlein’s Star Beast or The Rolling Stones?
Also missing were the Encyclopedia Brown books by Donald Sobol,
my childhood favorite. Leroy “Encyclopedia”
Brown was a smart but otherwise ordinary boy who solved mysteries by using his
brains. He had accumulated a vast knowledge
by reading endless books. This was a
very appealing character to a boy who lived in a small Texas town. I devoured the books. Encyclopedia Brown, at least to me, made it cool
to read and be smart.
Many years later, I worked a couple of years for Bantam
Books. One summer, I got to attend the
American Book Association meeting in Miami.
The convention was a lot of fun, chiefly because I got to meet a lot of
authors; Leon Uris, Xaviera Hollander, Mickey Spillane, and most importantly,
Donald Sobol, the author of the Encyclopedia Brown series. At some point, I bought Mr. Sobol a drink at
the hotel bar and we discussed his books.
Mr. Sobol was intelligent, polite, and talked at length about the
publishing business. To my astonishment—and
his amusement—I remembered many of the early stories better than he did. I had read them since he had, and he had long
since moved on to other projects.
Sadly, Donald Sobol passed away last week at the age of
87. He authored over 65 books, including
28 featuring Encyclopedia Brown.
As we finished that drink in the bar, Mr. Sobol kindly
autographed a couple of his books for me.
I just remembered that I gave them to my nephew.
I’d call my nephew about those books, but he has four kids
and is probably wondering what happened to all the children’s books he used to
have. Where do they all go? This is a mystery for Encyclopedia Brown.
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