As a child I was shy. In elementary schools, I often spent time by myself in the library, roaming through the stacks. The librarians took pity on me. Sometimes, one of them would catch my eyes, smile at me and say softly, “Come with me.” She’d take me to a magical place — the room holding the unshelved new books. “Pick one,” she’d say. “Whichever one you like.” I was not so well-read that I knew authors by name, but usually some combination of title and cover art would entice me in my selection. That was how I selected the first book in Patricia McKillip’s Riddlemaster Trilogy. Today, if you were to catch me off-guard and say, “Quick! Tell me the titles of your favorite books.” I would say The Riddlemaster and after that I might say McKillip’s The Forgotten Beasts of Eld. Twenty, thirty years later, I cannot tell you the specific storylines of any of these books but I can tell you of the memories she left me with through her words. I can tell you of the images implanted in my mind of lush forests, crashing seas, loyal beasts. I can tell you of the music evoked by her characters. Her writing is lyrical, deep and rich. It is that lyricism, depth and richness that I hope to rediscover this winter by re-reading her books. Some of the books I own and must dig out of a box. Others I will have to track down at local used book stores and at my public library. When I am done, perhaps I will give them to a young relative or to someone older who is young at heart. We’ll see. 😉
Words + Images 