Wednesday, May 20, 2009

The Power of a Gift

This months in between question was taken from Booking Through Thursday. (Who's link I've added at the bottom of the side bar.)

What, if any, memorable or special book have you ever gotten as a present?
What made it so notable? The person who gave it? The book itself? The “gift aura?”

I don't know if it qualifies as a "gift", but my mother "gave" me my great grandmothers books that she had handed down to her. Two are primary school books with stories like Pandora's Box in them, and one is her VERY OLD copy of Gone With the Wind. Their bindings are totally falling apart. I rarely read them, because I am afraid they will disintegrate faster. But they mean the world to me and that copy of Gone With the Wind is what started my love and fascination with the classics.

So do you have a favorite "gift" book? Why does it mean so much?


Mrs. Mordecai said...

When I was a child, I wore out my copy of A Little Princess from excessive love and reading. My dad took me out to the bookstore so I could purchase a new copy, and he ended up buying me the most beautiful hardcover edition. It really meant a lot to me, since I knew that books weren't as important to him as they were to me.

Sharon in KY said...

On my 9th Christmas a family friend gave me her childhood copy of Little Women. I had received very few books as gifts and was just awed that she gave me this big, hardcover book with lovely illustrations. I tried reading it but wasn't successful. Mom and Dad didn't read to us much and even Dr. Seuss taxed their endurance so I knew neither of them would read it to me. I tried again to read it when I was 10 but still couldn't get through it. The language was too complex for me. Finally, at age 11 or 12, I started and got hooked and finished Little Women. I was inspired by the story and I was very proud of what I had accomplished. A reader was born!

Magali said...

As a child, I was not allowed to play ball, watch TV, read, and most of the time, we could not play outside because we lived in a dangerous neighborhood. I had one book, and I don't know how I got it, and I was too young to remember its title. There was a beautiful ilustration of a frog in a swamp with lots of lilies, and even though I don't remember the story, I remember the feelings I had about it: sadness,and nostalgic sweetness. The frog died in the end, but somehow that is what it was supposed to be. That book disappeard, and to this day, every time I go to a bookstore in Brazil (it does not happen very often)with used and old books, I search for it. My passion for reading started there, with that book.

Sharon in KY said...


Your post is both sad and sweet. I hope that one day you find this one book who was a childhood friend.