A History of Reading

This doesn't happen often (not often enough, at least), but here I am at Barnes & Noble.... alone.

I am here often enough with the girls for Storytime. We arrive early to make time for potty breaks and play in the toy section. Then we head to the children's book area and listen to the story, sing songs, and color. After that, if both girls are in good spirits and behaving, we go back to play with the trains and blocks again before we drive home for lunch. Not once do I browse at books. My eyes are glued to the girls while we're here. I talk and am social with the other mothers. I am in a bookstore, and I don't look at a single book.

I have had a lifelong affair with books. My parents read to my brother and I when we were young. There was a shelf of books in my room from as early as I can remember. I spent summer vacations with my nose in books, even going so far as to finish the pages in the vocabulary workbooks that my class didn't get to complete during the school year. I loved reading. My Mom always had to tell me to close my book when we were eating dinner together as a family. I didn't understand why I couldn't keep reading when we weren't much of a conversational family in the first place.

While sitting around the stage for Storytime, I do peek at the titles of the books lined up on the shelves surrounding us. Youth Fiction. My favorite store to visit whenever we went to the mall when I was a kid was called "Young Editions." It was a store filled to the brim with youth fiction. My favorite book series still to this day is the Prydain Chronicles by Lloyd Alexander that I picked up at Young Editions. It was a sad day when the store closed.

I spent most of my high school career in a library. Two different high schools, three different libraries (you have to include the county library, of course). College wasn't too terribly different, come to think of it now: add two more schools and three more libraries to the list. It's no wonder that my first job post college was as a file clerk, never minding the fact that my degree was in graphic design.

Here, in this town, I haven't found a library that I like yet. The one closest to us is small and old, and I haven't spent the time to explore others. It's no wonder that Barnes & Noble is my current refuge for books. Before we had kids, Senpai and I would come here to grab a coffee drink and sit together on a bench by the window to browse through the magazines. I would inevitably leave Senpai on the bench while I explored the stacks, looking for a new Haruki Murakami masterpiece or something similar. Later, when Rosemary was growing in my belly, I would pick up parenting books.

It's a shame now that I don't even look at the books most times I'm here. Sometimes Senpai joins us, and he and I will trade off watching the girls while the other finds reading material. He'll go off to the magazine racks, and when he comes back, I make a quick trip to the parenting books. I can peek through those quick enough to see if there's anything that calls to me. But here I am tonight, alone with my thoughts and all of the time in the world to explore. So if you'll excuse me... I've got some new fiction to discover.

Murakami Fanatic

I get it now.

I'm almost finished reading "Kafka on the Shore" by Haruki Murakami for the second time, and I like it better now than I did when I first read it. I got to thinking, This story reminds me of "Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World," which is my favorite Murakami book, so why would I not like "Kafka on the Shore"? The only explanation I could come up with is that I had read "Kafka" before "Hard-Boiled Wonderland," which is exactly what happened.

I had the habit, not too long ago, of writing my name and the purchase date in every new book I acquired. There really was no reason behind it except for sentimentality upon reopening a book years down the line. I did that from my late teens until two years ago, when I made some bad purchases and was extremely sorry to have written my name inside these books that I did not want to keep. So I don't do it anymore. But I am glad that my Murakami books have been dated, because it proved my theory. Here's my list of Murakami books, arranged chronologically:

A Wild Sheep Chase 10/1/2003
Dance Dance Dance 5/2004
The Elephant Vanishes 11/21/2004
Kafka on the Shore 4/25/2005
After the Quake 5/4/2005
Sputnik Sweetheart 5/4/2005
Hard-Boiled Wonderland and The End of the World 6/25/2007
The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle 8/11/2007
After Dark 5/13/2008
Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman 7/26/2008
What I Talk About When I Talk About Running 8/31/2008

I was caught off guard looking inside the cover of "The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle." First, it was the first Murakami book I had ever read, by order of a college Literature teacher, so why was it labeled 2007, years after I had been in college? And second, why did it have my husband's initials, in his own handwriting, as opposed to my name written by my hand? Then I remembered: I had spent hours reading that book in the college library back in the day, because I had trouble finding money to eat, much less for buying books for a literature class. I had recommended the book to Senpai as an interesting read years later, and that's when HE purchased it and respectfully followed my silly OCD labeling conventions.

I am also reminded, looking back now, of how "Sputnik Sweetheart" became one of the many forces that helped me to finally break up with a boyfriend that I should not have spent so much time with. That whole year, I kept hearing an alarm going off in my head, actually sounding like an alarm clock, and I would repeatedly look at my cell phone, wondering if it was ringing. My head telling me to "Wake up!" I also had a very disturbing image of a bug being caught in a scabbed-up wound on my finger, and would stare at my finger, making sure it wasn't really there. Talk about "getting under one's skin." Finally, there was "Sputnik Sweetheart." A story that, when finished, left me feeling like something was missing. The happy ending, perhaps? The love that remained unrequited? I am glad the pieces all fell together and I took leave right when I needed to.

Getting back to the list, it appears I bought 2-3 books every year until I had caught up with his newest release. I do check the store every once in awhile to see if there's another one that I've missed. I just looked at his website. I'm missing "Underground: The Tokyo Gas Attack and the Japanese Psyche," "South of the Border, West of the Sun," "Vintage Murakami," and "Norwegian Wood." The newest novel is "IQ84" to be released October 25th. I think I've found my next book purchases.

"Mama"

She's learned how to say "Mama."

It came all of a sudden at Barnes & Noble. We had just bought her two new books. I ordered a frappuccino at the cafe and while we waited for the drink to be made, she chirped from her stroller, "Mmmmamamamama." The other patrons smiled sweetly at the cute little baby calling to her Mommy, but they had no idea that it was for the first time. My heart smiled, "That's right, Sweetie, I'm Mama." We settled into a comfy chair to read Baby Beluga, "Mmmmmamamamama."

You can tell me all day long that Mama is harder to say than Dada, but I won't believe you until I see my daughter's lips clumsily try to pronounce it. She's gotten very good at it since then.

"Mamamama!" ("Yes, Sweetheart?")

"Mama!" ("What is it, R?")

"Ma-m." ("Is everything alright, Cupcake?")

I think she's still practicing her newfound syllables; I'm not sure she really knows that it's me yet. It's not like I hovered over her and repeatedly declared myself to be her mother (I don't like to state the obvious, especially when it needs to be said more than once. That probably doesn't make me the best teacher, but hey, I'm learning, too.). As referenced above, though, I do reply to those syllables, hoping she will eventually deduce that saying "Mama" is an excellent way to get my attention. Not that she doesn't have it all day long to begin with. ;-)

And, oh wow, she is getting into EVERYTHING now. In the two hour span this morning between when she woke up and her first nap, I had to shoo her away from electrical cords, heating vents, the kitchen cabinets, heavy items, etc... Daddy's task when he came home would be to finish all the babyproofing we had not gotten to yet. Before then, though, I had to take R to the children's center at the gym, just to have someone else watch her for a bit, and also to give her new and different stimulation than what could be found at home! I'm so glad she enjoyed today's trip to the gym, as well as the last time. The time before THAT had me wondering if I could ever take her again because she cried the entire time she was in there. Good to know the crying spells have not continued.

Eventually I will need to research daycare centers and find myself a job, but until then, I'd like to enjoy warmer weather with my baby. After all, I'm her Mama. <3