A confession: I have never read Bridge to Terabithia.
Wait! I can explain! In sixth grade I was unfortunately cursed with one of those librarians who is on the bridge of retiring and couldn't really care less about whether or not you actually check books out of the library. To this end, instead of reading us excerpts from books, or trying to introduce us to many books, she set up a reliable film projector (and don't get me wrong; I have many, many fond recollections of film projectors from elementary school library visits--heck, from elementary school in general) and ran filmstrips about books.
Unfortunately, these filmstrips were pretty much straight-up summaries with blurry and oddly-drawn illustrations for visual accompaniments. So several classic children's novels were spoiled for me. I don't remember all of them, but I do know Bridge to Teribithia was one of them, because the summary went on and on and SPOILERY ENDING then it was like oh and she died or whatever END SPOILERY STUFF and I said, "Wow, thanks for destroying any desire I might have had to read that book."
but dragons sound a bit out there.
Anyway, more on-topic:
First of all, my little sister hasn't even read the Little House books, which I think is a crime against humanity. (My mom, who currently works in the barnyard of a living history museum, is hoping to change this by luring her in with Farmer Boy, but I digress again.) One of the first things I did this school year was make a trip to Goodwill, with the intention of buying something for our jungle-themed dance that night. Instead, I came out with the yellow-cover Garth-Williams-illustrated versions of Farmer Boy and The First Four Years, which I think were newer than the versions I grew up with, but are still older than I am (1981 editions at the latest), because they looked so lonely on the shelf. They needed to come home with me.
Anyway, I'm digressing again, but the point of all this rambling is that I love the Little House books with a great deal of my heart (how many times did I read These Happy Golden Years, I wonder? Over and over and over again...and Plum Creek, in the mudhouse, I loved that one too), and I loved reading as a child, and that THIS ARTICLE BREAKS MY HEART IN SO MANY WAYS.
...*insert rant about losing faith in the children of tomorrow, and how my generation is the last combination of good ol' fashioned raising tempering technological prowress and how the world after we're gone is doomed*
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Date: 1/22/07 09:47 pm (UTC)Wait! I can explain!
In sixth grade I was unfortunately cursed with one of those librarians who is on the bridge of retiring and couldn't really care less about whether or not you actually check books out of the library. To this end, instead of reading us excerpts from books, or trying to introduce us to many books, she set up a reliable film projector (and don't get me wrong; I have many, many fond recollections of film projectors from elementary school library visits--heck, from elementary school in general) and ran filmstrips about books.
Unfortunately, these filmstrips were pretty much straight-up summaries with blurry and oddly-drawn illustrations for visual accompaniments. So several classic children's novels were spoiled for me. I don't remember all of them, but I do know Bridge to Teribithia was one of them, because the summary went on and on and SPOILERY ENDING then it was like oh and she died or whatever END SPOILERY STUFF and I said, "Wow, thanks for destroying any desire I might have had to read that book."
but dragons sound a bit out there.
Anyway, more on-topic:
First of all, my little sister hasn't even read the Little House books, which I think is a crime against humanity. (My mom, who currently works in the barnyard of a living history museum, is hoping to change this by luring her in with Farmer Boy, but I digress again.) One of the first things I did this school year was make a trip to Goodwill, with the intention of buying something for our jungle-themed dance that night. Instead, I came out with the yellow-cover Garth-Williams-illustrated versions of Farmer Boy and The First Four Years, which I think were newer than the versions I grew up with, but are still older than I am (1981 editions at the latest), because they looked so lonely on the shelf. They needed to come home with me.
Anyway, I'm digressing again, but the point of all this rambling is that I love the Little House books with a great deal of my heart (how many times did I read These Happy Golden Years, I wonder? Over and over and over again...and Plum Creek, in the mudhouse, I loved that one too), and I loved reading as a child, and that THIS ARTICLE BREAKS MY HEART IN SO MANY WAYS.
...*insert rant about losing faith in the children of tomorrow, and how my generation is the last combination of good ol' fashioned raising tempering technological prowress and how the world after we're gone is doomed*