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Halloween Reading


My mother and I never discussed my reading: that was not her way, and I was much too young then to know it was mine. The books she gave me were different from the books I read for school. They served no didactic purpose; they were offered to me simply for my pleasure, and—I sensed—for another reason I couldn't quite fathom but was glad to accept on faith. My mother was always cool and offhand; she had a horror of intrusiveness. But I knew the books she left me were markers along a meandering trail that she meant me to follow. I hoped when I reached the end I might find her there.

From the memoir Are You Happy?: A Childhood Remembered, by Emily Fox Gordon


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That's a great quote. Makes me want to read the book. Thanks!

Nancy, the book really captures the days of children being let loose to entertain themselves; it provides quite a contrast to all the adult-supervised activities of today.

Oh, now I want to read it even more! Sometimes I think I dreamed those days.

Of course my dad likes to tell stories of how his mother would send him to the butcher's shop to buy hamburger when he was 5. In Hartford Connecticut. Alone.

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