What do you think?
Rate this book
Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading
When Lucy Mangan was little, stories were everything.
They opened up different worlds and cast new light on this one. She was whisked away to Narnia and Kirrin Island and Wonderland. She ventured down rabbit holes and Womble burrows into midnight gardens and chocolate factories.
Now, in Bookworm, Lucy brings these worlds and the favourite characters of our collective childhoods back to life, uncovering a forgotten treasures along the way, and poignantly, wittily using them to tell her own story -- that of a born, and unrepentant, bookworm.
They opened up different worlds and cast new light on this one. She was whisked away to Narnia and Kirrin Island and Wonderland. She ventured down rabbit holes and Womble burrows into midnight gardens and chocolate factories.
Now, in Bookworm, Lucy brings these worlds and the favourite characters of our collective childhoods back to life, uncovering a forgotten treasures along the way, and poignantly, wittily using them to tell her own story -- that of a born, and unrepentant, bookworm.
322 pages, Paperback
First published March 1, 2018
293 people are currently reading
7496 people want to read
About the author
Lucy Mangan
19 books164 followersLucy Mangan (born 1974) is a British journalist and author. She is a columnist, features writer and TV critic for The Guardian. Her writing style is both feminist and humorous.
Mangan grew up in Catford, south east London, but both her parents were originally from Lancashire. She studied English at Cambridge University and trained to be a solicitor. After qualifying as a solicitor, she began to work instead in a bookshop and then, in 2003, found a work experience placement at The Guardian.
She continues to work at The Guardian writing a regular column and TV reviews plus occasional features. Her book My Family and other Disasters (2009) is a collection of her newspaper columns. She has also written books about her childhood and her wedding.
Mangan also has a regular column for Stylist magazine and has been a judge for the Booktrust Roald Dahl Funny Prize.
Mangan grew up in Catford, south east London, but both her parents were originally from Lancashire. She studied English at Cambridge University and trained to be a solicitor. After qualifying as a solicitor, she began to work instead in a bookshop and then, in 2003, found a work experience placement at The Guardian.
She continues to work at The Guardian writing a regular column and TV reviews plus occasional features. Her book My Family and other Disasters (2009) is a collection of her newspaper columns. She has also written books about her childhood and her wedding.
Mangan also has a regular column for Stylist magazine and has been a judge for the Booktrust Roald Dahl Funny Prize.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 773 reviews
June 25, 2019
"I read omnivorously but not well and certainly without a thought for posterity. I read because I loved it. I read wherever I could, whenever I could, for as long as I could."
This is a wonderfully nostalgic memoir of author Lucy Mangan’s childhood reading life. But more than that, it is a book that will cause any bookworm that has adored reading since the days of diapers and bottles to reflect on his or her own experiences with books. That is exactly what I found myself doing as I read this one. My own adventures with reading don’t match Mangan’s perfectly, although there are some overlaps for sure. C.S. Lewis, Judy Blume, Louisa May Alcott, and E.B. White were all writers I adored as a child. Others I came to know through reading to my own children – Eric Carle, Maurice Sendak, Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, and J.R.R. Tolkien. Then there were other children’s books that I missed the first and second time around and only came to know and love as an adult. Authors like L.M. Montgomery and Frances Hodgson Burnett were somehow completely overlooked as a child as well as an adult reading to my own children! How did I miss these?! In particular, Anne of Green Gables now holds a very special place in my heart and I’m grateful to have not missed this gem, even if I did get to it rather late in life.
"… you simply never know what a child is going to find in a book (or a graphic novel, or a comic, or whatever) – what tiny, throwaway line might be the spark that lights the fuse that sets off an explosion in understanding whose force echoes down years."
I’ve always valued the pastime of reading as being something much more than just a simple hobby, and agree wholeheartedly with Mangan’s belief as stated above. My children didn’t just read (or have read to them) those books that I deemed ‘acceptable’, but also those books that they discovered on their own (even if I did cringe at a title or two once in a while!) I would still happily either read the book to them if requested, or in the very least offer the required cash needed to buy these books at book fairs or bookstores. The library was a place we visited often – much more than I was allowed to frequent as a child. My parents encouraged reading, but were never bookworms themselves. My sister was not a reader, my grandparents were not readers, my aunts and uncles thought it odd that I always had a book in hand. In fact, I often wonder how I became such an avid reader! To this day, my mother ‘brags’ to friends and strangers alike about how many books I read. But when she is in my company, if I pull a book out, I will likely hear, “Oh, you’re reading… again.”! I’m never quite sure about the dichotomy between her two reactions to my reading life, but I’ve given up trying to figure it out and continue on my merry way. Much as Lucy Mangan did. I enjoyed reading about her family’s reactions to her bookish life. It was really her dad that encouraged her reading and procured many a special book for her. I am quite sure this is a memory she will treasure forever.
"I had adored being read to, enjoyed the stories, but the ability to take down a book off a shelf, open it up and translate it into words and sounds and pictures in my head, to start that film rolling all by myself and keep it going as long as I pleased – well, that was happiness of a different order."
I think most readers will enjoy reading about the evolution, so to speak, of a child’s reading experiences. The wonder of holding a book in your hand, the joy of discovering a new, favorite author, the way we wrap ourselves up and hold dear the characters we meet along the way – these are moments we as readers treasure and this memoir relates those feelings perfectly. There were many books that I had not heard of before reading Mangan’s thoughts, and she often goes in depth about particular authors – this may or may not interest some readers depending on how much you can relate to each of those anecdotes. At times I found myself taking notes, adding books to my Goodreads shelf I’ve titled ‘for future grandkids’. Even if I didn’t always have an interest in a particular book or author, I couldn’t help feeling a connection to Lucy Mangan and all fellow bookworms in general. I highly recommend this memoir to anyone that wants to take a trip down memory lane and perhaps reflect on their own favorites as a child.
"Books have not isolated me – they have connected me."
This is a wonderfully nostalgic memoir of author Lucy Mangan’s childhood reading life. But more than that, it is a book that will cause any bookworm that has adored reading since the days of diapers and bottles to reflect on his or her own experiences with books. That is exactly what I found myself doing as I read this one. My own adventures with reading don’t match Mangan’s perfectly, although there are some overlaps for sure. C.S. Lewis, Judy Blume, Louisa May Alcott, and E.B. White were all writers I adored as a child. Others I came to know through reading to my own children – Eric Carle, Maurice Sendak, Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, and J.R.R. Tolkien. Then there were other children’s books that I missed the first and second time around and only came to know and love as an adult. Authors like L.M. Montgomery and Frances Hodgson Burnett were somehow completely overlooked as a child as well as an adult reading to my own children! How did I miss these?! In particular, Anne of Green Gables now holds a very special place in my heart and I’m grateful to have not missed this gem, even if I did get to it rather late in life.
"… you simply never know what a child is going to find in a book (or a graphic novel, or a comic, or whatever) – what tiny, throwaway line might be the spark that lights the fuse that sets off an explosion in understanding whose force echoes down years."
I’ve always valued the pastime of reading as being something much more than just a simple hobby, and agree wholeheartedly with Mangan’s belief as stated above. My children didn’t just read (or have read to them) those books that I deemed ‘acceptable’, but also those books that they discovered on their own (even if I did cringe at a title or two once in a while!) I would still happily either read the book to them if requested, or in the very least offer the required cash needed to buy these books at book fairs or bookstores. The library was a place we visited often – much more than I was allowed to frequent as a child. My parents encouraged reading, but were never bookworms themselves. My sister was not a reader, my grandparents were not readers, my aunts and uncles thought it odd that I always had a book in hand. In fact, I often wonder how I became such an avid reader! To this day, my mother ‘brags’ to friends and strangers alike about how many books I read. But when she is in my company, if I pull a book out, I will likely hear, “Oh, you’re reading… again.”! I’m never quite sure about the dichotomy between her two reactions to my reading life, but I’ve given up trying to figure it out and continue on my merry way. Much as Lucy Mangan did. I enjoyed reading about her family’s reactions to her bookish life. It was really her dad that encouraged her reading and procured many a special book for her. I am quite sure this is a memory she will treasure forever.
"I had adored being read to, enjoyed the stories, but the ability to take down a book off a shelf, open it up and translate it into words and sounds and pictures in my head, to start that film rolling all by myself and keep it going as long as I pleased – well, that was happiness of a different order."
I think most readers will enjoy reading about the evolution, so to speak, of a child’s reading experiences. The wonder of holding a book in your hand, the joy of discovering a new, favorite author, the way we wrap ourselves up and hold dear the characters we meet along the way – these are moments we as readers treasure and this memoir relates those feelings perfectly. There were many books that I had not heard of before reading Mangan’s thoughts, and she often goes in depth about particular authors – this may or may not interest some readers depending on how much you can relate to each of those anecdotes. At times I found myself taking notes, adding books to my Goodreads shelf I’ve titled ‘for future grandkids’. Even if I didn’t always have an interest in a particular book or author, I couldn’t help feeling a connection to Lucy Mangan and all fellow bookworms in general. I highly recommend this memoir to anyone that wants to take a trip down memory lane and perhaps reflect on their own favorites as a child.
"Books have not isolated me – they have connected me."
April 2, 2020
A booklovers dream and a nostalgic romp through ones childhood. The authors love of reading is apparent on every page. Although their were a few books and authors I hadn't read, I found many that I had. Good memories, not just of books but libraries and teachers as well. There is more than just children's stories, there are those like Lord of the Flies and others that I read in middle school. Certainly brought back memories. A pleasure to read and one I intend to buy, treasure.
April 9, 2018
This nostalgic memoir of a bookworm effectively reflects the dual nature of the reading experience, that of both a deeply personal encounter and one which is shared by hundreds, thousands, even millions of others over time. That we all bring ourselves to each book is an obvious truth, and while books have a life of their own, there must be something within them that connects all those that read it, something that we all connect to within the pages. As a bookseller, I saw the same books chosen again and again, parents who wished to pass on the same joyful sense of discovery that they enjoyed when they were young. That same desire permeates Mangan's work- her own steady exploration of different types of story and the opening of new worlds, which changes as she ages and her tastes/needs develop, becomes her hope, as a mother, to gift that to her (at this point somewhat less bookwormy) child. Maybe I didn't read all the books she lists, or even agree with her conclusions about them, but her overarching memory of her life as a reader resonates too deeply to ignore the fact that it is this part that's important, not what we read or even what we think about it, but that we read and want to share that great pleasure with others- it is that feeling above all else that connected this reader to this book. After all, if that's not the case, what are we doing on Goodreads at all?
ARC via Netgalley
ARC via Netgalley
February 24, 2018
I have never read anything by Lucy Mangan before, but, having adored this delightful memoir of childhood reading, I will certainly be exploring her previous books. Like the author of this book, I was a bookish child and have remained a bookish adult. Like the author, I always preferred my childish adventures to be vicarious – I would rather read about the Famous Five out camping than suffer the discomforts, and dangers, myself. Like her, I became immersed in books, to the infuriation of those around me (my husband still sometimes grumbles at my lack of response to his remarks, but generally accepts my inability to know he is there as a plus that enables him to watch endless snooker championships – each to their own).
This is a memoir of Lucy Mangan’s childhood reading, but it is so much more than that. It gives potted backgrounds to authors and books, it gives context, and it enthuses. From Mog, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” and Maurice Sendak, through her love of the library, the difficulty of fitting in at school, “My Naughty Little Sister,” “Milly-Molly-Mandy,” Ladybird Books, E.Nesbit, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, illustrations, Narnia, school books, Classics, Just William, the Wombles , Judy Blume and on and on and on, through endless literary delights, there is much to re-discover – or, if you are lucky – to discover for the first time. Along the way, the author muses on growing up and how books help you do so, on how those of us who grew up before the internet had to go on quests to discover whether favourite books had sequels and, if they did, were they still in print?
Lucy Mangan is younger than me by about a decade, so not all of her childhood books were mine (I missed “Sweet Valley High,” but remember my niece’s love of them) and have since ordered other books she raved about (“Private – Keep out!”) to share with my own daughter. There is a helpful list of books at the end, have you not (as most Bookworms do) activity scribble notes, afraid of missing a title. As an adult, Mangan ruefully remarks, we read differently. It is true – I help run several book groups and I utilise Audible to help me read while shuttling between school run and work – but the true joy of any Bookworm is reading and that is, generally, a solitary occupation. It is joyful to know you are not alone in your obsession and, should you also love reading, you will also love this book. It was a pleasure to read and my thanks go to the publisher, via NetGalley, for a review copy of this book.
This is a memoir of Lucy Mangan’s childhood reading, but it is so much more than that. It gives potted backgrounds to authors and books, it gives context, and it enthuses. From Mog, “The Very Hungry Caterpillar,” and Maurice Sendak, through her love of the library, the difficulty of fitting in at school, “My Naughty Little Sister,” “Milly-Molly-Mandy,” Ladybird Books, E.Nesbit, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton, illustrations, Narnia, school books, Classics, Just William, the Wombles , Judy Blume and on and on and on, through endless literary delights, there is much to re-discover – or, if you are lucky – to discover for the first time. Along the way, the author muses on growing up and how books help you do so, on how those of us who grew up before the internet had to go on quests to discover whether favourite books had sequels and, if they did, were they still in print?
Lucy Mangan is younger than me by about a decade, so not all of her childhood books were mine (I missed “Sweet Valley High,” but remember my niece’s love of them) and have since ordered other books she raved about (“Private – Keep out!”) to share with my own daughter. There is a helpful list of books at the end, have you not (as most Bookworms do) activity scribble notes, afraid of missing a title. As an adult, Mangan ruefully remarks, we read differently. It is true – I help run several book groups and I utilise Audible to help me read while shuttling between school run and work – but the true joy of any Bookworm is reading and that is, generally, a solitary occupation. It is joyful to know you are not alone in your obsession and, should you also love reading, you will also love this book. It was a pleasure to read and my thanks go to the publisher, via NetGalley, for a review copy of this book.
March 15, 2018
So, fellow GoodReaders, this is probably our communal biography! Anyone who charts their childhood by what they were reading, anyone who recalls the wonder of weekly visits to the library with a parent (all those books!), anyone who remembers being forced to read the back of the cereal packet because books weren't allowed at the dining table will find themselves in here.
Mangan captures beautifully not just the fact of reading constantly, but the magic of complete child-like immersion in other worlds. As she says, as children we read uncritically, we expect - and usually find - pleasure in every book we open. And we re-read - obsessively. Something of that innocent passion dissipates as we get older: not every book is as good as we want it to be, real life can be difficult to shut off, and re-reading can feel like an indulgence when there are new books, review copies, prize-winners and talking points to catch up with.
Although I'm younger than Mangan, I was surprised at how few childhood books we share: Plop, yes; Little Women, of course; Alice in Wonderland, for sure; the Narnia books, oh yes. But that doesn't really matter because what is most familiar here is the time we had to read as kids and the sheer obsession with buying, collecting and reading books, sometimes literally all day. Bliss!
I've loved Mangan's writing since her Stylist column - she's less biting here, but just as open, witty and acute. She mingles her memoirs with potted lives of the writers she loved and offers up a mini history of children's writing, unafraid to confront the controversies of authors whose historical placement meant they offered up only white, middle-class stories that internalised gender and other constrictions.
This is a fast read but it recalls with warmth and wit the books and very practice of reading which made us who we are today. And oh yes, the nostalgia of Ladybird books!
Many thanks to Vintage for an ARC via NetGalley
Mangan captures beautifully not just the fact of reading constantly, but the magic of complete child-like immersion in other worlds. As she says, as children we read uncritically, we expect - and usually find - pleasure in every book we open. And we re-read - obsessively. Something of that innocent passion dissipates as we get older: not every book is as good as we want it to be, real life can be difficult to shut off, and re-reading can feel like an indulgence when there are new books, review copies, prize-winners and talking points to catch up with.
Although I'm younger than Mangan, I was surprised at how few childhood books we share: Plop, yes; Little Women, of course; Alice in Wonderland, for sure; the Narnia books, oh yes. But that doesn't really matter because what is most familiar here is the time we had to read as kids and the sheer obsession with buying, collecting and reading books, sometimes literally all day. Bliss!
I've loved Mangan's writing since her Stylist column - she's less biting here, but just as open, witty and acute. She mingles her memoirs with potted lives of the writers she loved and offers up a mini history of children's writing, unafraid to confront the controversies of authors whose historical placement meant they offered up only white, middle-class stories that internalised gender and other constrictions.
This is a fast read but it recalls with warmth and wit the books and very practice of reading which made us who we are today. And oh yes, the nostalgia of Ladybird books!
Many thanks to Vintage for an ARC via NetGalley
June 24, 2018
I tend to always love books about books but unfortunately this was an exception to the rule. Even though Lucy Mangan talks vividly about books I recognised and read as a child, I found it quite tedious and slow. It takes a lot for me to not finish a title and I rarely feel like I just cannot manage to get to end but that did happen here. Books are subjective though, so i'm sure i'm in the minority with this view. I do feel that most bookworms would love this, especially if they grew up in the same times as Mangan. So, if you like the sound of the synopsis do give it a go!
Many thanks to Square Peg for an ARC. I was not required to post a review and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Thoughts after having to give up -
I very rarely, if ever, give up on a book as I always try and stick it out hoping it'll pick up but life is too short to read tedious books and I struggled from the start to be interested. This surprised me as I usually love books about books or based in a bookshop, library etc but this was a huge let down and I think it was the writing more than anything. I feel this read will polarise opinion - you will either love it or loathe it.
I always feel sad if I dislike or can't finish a book as I know that it will have taken time and effort to write and put together but I have to be honest about my view. The star rating is based on the part of the book I read as I cannot give an opinion on the rest of the book.
Full review to come.
Many thanks to Square Peg for an ARC. I was not required to post a review and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
Thoughts after having to give up -
I very rarely, if ever, give up on a book as I always try and stick it out hoping it'll pick up but life is too short to read tedious books and I struggled from the start to be interested. This surprised me as I usually love books about books or based in a bookshop, library etc but this was a huge let down and I think it was the writing more than anything. I feel this read will polarise opinion - you will either love it or loathe it.
I always feel sad if I dislike or can't finish a book as I know that it will have taken time and effort to write and put together but I have to be honest about my view. The star rating is based on the part of the book I read as I cannot give an opinion on the rest of the book.
Full review to come.
August 6, 2022
The only positive aspect of this book is that beautiful cover. Unfortunately though, that just wasn't enough to pull me through and I'm actually feeling rather disappointed and totally underwhelmed. I was expecting a gorgeously written memoir and actually, what I got, was entirely different.
The general tone I received here, and this happened mostly throughout this book, was a condescending one, and this caused me right from the outset, to feel rather distant from Mangan, and the story she was telling.
I couldn't agree with much of what she stated about children's authors, and I sometimes had to raise an eyebrow and think 'Really?' I got the general impression that she makes an odd assumption that she is right about her ratings of books, and if anyone says otherwise, well, their opinion is unworthy. I don't like that kind of attitude. It seems almost childish, and above all, ridiculous.
There were some well known books mentioned in here, but to be honest, many were missing, which I personally thought should have been included.
Throughout the book there are major spoilers for nearly every book mentioned, so be wary, if you ever plan on picking this one up, because to be honest, I'll be glad to get rid of it.
And the golden rule that should never be broken, ever; never slate Tolkien in my presence.
The general tone I received here, and this happened mostly throughout this book, was a condescending one, and this caused me right from the outset, to feel rather distant from Mangan, and the story she was telling.
I couldn't agree with much of what she stated about children's authors, and I sometimes had to raise an eyebrow and think 'Really?' I got the general impression that she makes an odd assumption that she is right about her ratings of books, and if anyone says otherwise, well, their opinion is unworthy. I don't like that kind of attitude. It seems almost childish, and above all, ridiculous.
There were some well known books mentioned in here, but to be honest, many were missing, which I personally thought should have been included.
Throughout the book there are major spoilers for nearly every book mentioned, so be wary, if you ever plan on picking this one up, because to be honest, I'll be glad to get rid of it.
And the golden rule that should never be broken, ever; never slate Tolkien in my presence.
May 20, 2018
3.5 rounded up. If you were the kind of child who stayed indoors to read while other kids were playing outside, whose family was irritated because "your nose was always stuck in a book", who haunted the library and spent all your allowance on books, then Lucy Mangan has your number. This was a trip down memory lane in books for me, and I enjoyed the whole thing. Plus Mangan is very funny.
The only downside for me was her description of "the funniest book she ever read" and her all time favorite: PRIVATE--KEEP OUT by Gwen Grant. She had me screaming with laughter at the excerpts she quoted, and of course it's out of print. The cheapest copy at Abebooks was $864.00! My library doesn't have it, neither does Kindle. Amazon has a used copy for 36.00. Disappointment all around, but of course, now I MUST find a (cheap) copy.
A fun read for booklovers.
The only downside for me was her description of "the funniest book she ever read" and her all time favorite: PRIVATE--KEEP OUT by Gwen Grant. She had me screaming with laughter at the excerpts she quoted, and of course it's out of print. The cheapest copy at Abebooks was $864.00! My library doesn't have it, neither does Kindle. Amazon has a used copy for 36.00. Disappointment all around, but of course, now I MUST find a (cheap) copy.
A fun read for booklovers.
April 16, 2018
This is a must-read for any former child-bibliophile.
Lucy Mangan is an individual I had never heard of before reading this book but one who feels like a long-time friend, now I have finished it. This is a memoir, of sorts, chronicling Lucy's toddling, childhood, and teenage years. She uses books to mark the passage of years, which alter with the growing vocabulary and her her burgeoning love for the written word.
I found myself reminiscing about so many of my own childhood favourites, whilst reading this. I, too, shared a love for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and an excitable distrust of tigers who turn up unannounced to tea. I found myself captivated by the freedom experienced by Enid Blyton's protagonists and enchanted by a sojourn in a chocolate factory with Roald Dahl. My unbounded joy at finding my previous favourite books made this feel like Mangan was relaying my own life story, rather than recounting her own.
Mangan expertly summarised what it was about so many of these still beloved authors that made them so enchanting to little ones. She encapsulates both first joys and latter nostalgia, as well as giving facts about the authors lives and the book creations themselves. This book felt like a warm embrace. It provided so many forgotten favourites, that made me cast a loving eye back to my young reading self and reminisce about afternoons lost amongst the pages of many a book.
My only reason for not awarding this a full five stars is due to my not having read every book collected here. This was obviously unavoidable by the author but I, nevertheless, could not get the same enjoyment out of the latter third, when I recognised so few titles from my own early reading years.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Lucy Mangan, and the publisher, Vintage Books, for this opportunity.
Lucy Mangan is an individual I had never heard of before reading this book but one who feels like a long-time friend, now I have finished it. This is a memoir, of sorts, chronicling Lucy's toddling, childhood, and teenage years. She uses books to mark the passage of years, which alter with the growing vocabulary and her her burgeoning love for the written word.
I found myself reminiscing about so many of my own childhood favourites, whilst reading this. I, too, shared a love for The Very Hungry Caterpillar and an excitable distrust of tigers who turn up unannounced to tea. I found myself captivated by the freedom experienced by Enid Blyton's protagonists and enchanted by a sojourn in a chocolate factory with Roald Dahl. My unbounded joy at finding my previous favourite books made this feel like Mangan was relaying my own life story, rather than recounting her own.
Mangan expertly summarised what it was about so many of these still beloved authors that made them so enchanting to little ones. She encapsulates both first joys and latter nostalgia, as well as giving facts about the authors lives and the book creations themselves. This book felt like a warm embrace. It provided so many forgotten favourites, that made me cast a loving eye back to my young reading self and reminisce about afternoons lost amongst the pages of many a book.
My only reason for not awarding this a full five stars is due to my not having read every book collected here. This was obviously unavoidable by the author but I, nevertheless, could not get the same enjoyment out of the latter third, when I recognised so few titles from my own early reading years.
I received a copy of this book in exchange for an honest review. Thank you to the author, Lucy Mangan, and the publisher, Vintage Books, for this opportunity.
December 25, 2018
A memoir of and, as importantly, a paean to, childhood reading.
The writing style is lightly humorous, self deprecating and engaging, although the serious nature of the book and in particular the research carried out should not be underestimated.
There are also some serious reflections on how to best allow a bookworm to flourish - I find the comments in the importance of frequent re-reading to a child, as opposed to an adult, very illuminating.
On one level I would expect that most serious Goodreaders can identify with and will enjoy this book - in fact it should be what we all have in common .... spending hours of our childhood happily immersed in, in fact lost in, the world of books, a habit we have carried to our adult years, within the perhaps greater constraints that apply.
However the author does spend much of the book discussing specific books and her reaction to them, and while it is a great way to be introduced to new books (I placed several Amazon orders while I was reading) the book can pale when whole pages pass without a book that the reader knows at some level - partly my experience in the later stages as the author moves into female teenage books.
In my case, although I had some childhood similarities with the author’s childhood influences (same country and only a six year age difference) there were other marked differences in areas that the author considers of prime importance to her development as a reader (gender of reading and non reading parent; overlap in reading habits with sibling - zero in her case; close to 100 percent in mine; urban versus rural upbringing) and of course most of all, and particularly relevant at that time, in gender.
However my ability to identify with many of the books is aided considerably by three young daughters all of whom read somewhere between enthusiastically and voraciously. And this is the other weakness of the book - very strong on her own reading and particularly strong on revisiting her childhood books as an adult, the author (with one non-bookworm son) cannot either give any adult perspective on observing the birthing of a bookworm, or (other than in some teen fiction) any real coverage of new children’s literature.
Nevertheless a very worthwhile read.
The writing style is lightly humorous, self deprecating and engaging, although the serious nature of the book and in particular the research carried out should not be underestimated.
There are also some serious reflections on how to best allow a bookworm to flourish - I find the comments in the importance of frequent re-reading to a child, as opposed to an adult, very illuminating.
On one level I would expect that most serious Goodreaders can identify with and will enjoy this book - in fact it should be what we all have in common .... spending hours of our childhood happily immersed in, in fact lost in, the world of books, a habit we have carried to our adult years, within the perhaps greater constraints that apply.
However the author does spend much of the book discussing specific books and her reaction to them, and while it is a great way to be introduced to new books (I placed several Amazon orders while I was reading) the book can pale when whole pages pass without a book that the reader knows at some level - partly my experience in the later stages as the author moves into female teenage books.
In my case, although I had some childhood similarities with the author’s childhood influences (same country and only a six year age difference) there were other marked differences in areas that the author considers of prime importance to her development as a reader (gender of reading and non reading parent; overlap in reading habits with sibling - zero in her case; close to 100 percent in mine; urban versus rural upbringing) and of course most of all, and particularly relevant at that time, in gender.
However my ability to identify with many of the books is aided considerably by three young daughters all of whom read somewhere between enthusiastically and voraciously. And this is the other weakness of the book - very strong on her own reading and particularly strong on revisiting her childhood books as an adult, the author (with one non-bookworm son) cannot either give any adult perspective on observing the birthing of a bookworm, or (other than in some teen fiction) any real coverage of new children’s literature.
Nevertheless a very worthwhile read.
November 5, 2020
A thoroughly enjoyable and heartwarming read. Great fun.
June 7, 2018
It is easy to spot a bookworm at a party, they are looking for the first opportunity to slide off to a quiet room or a comfortable seat and fish their book out of their bag where they can immerse themselves in the latest fictional creations. It is not recommended to disturb them as this could be detrimental to your health, just to leave drinks in the close vicinity. And maybe some snacks.
I took the news and the list to my parents. 'I'm going to need all of these,' I said gently
Lucy Mangan is a complete bookworm and has been for as long as she remembers. For her, the worlds that books opened up were places of adventure and full of magic or a place of safe haven where real life seldom ventured. If she had to go out it was invariably to the library or the bookshop to acquire more reading material. They were a source of information too, a way of learning how different people reacted to different situations. The more that she read, the more that she wanted to read further; the discovery of a first book in a series would be a moment of joy as another seam of stories would be mined. As well as books for birthdays, her dad generously provided books on an almost weekly basis, introducing new authors to her. It seems like she hasn't got rid of many of these either as she has 10,000 books, yes TEN THOUSAND books at home!
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one. ― George R.R. Martin
I wasn't a complete bookworm as a child like Lucy was, I read a fair amount as a child, but unlike her, did venture outside to play on bikes and climb trees. However, reading books like this means that I can trawl my memories of the books that formed a part of my formative reading experience. I had some overlap with Lucy's reading, Blyton and CS Lewis to name but two of the authors that we have both have read. I remember being forced to read some dire books at school, but memories of others came like Swallows & Amazons, Stig of the Dump, the Willard Price Adventure books, Adrian Mole and even the Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone books that began with the Warlock of Firetop Mountain.
All of my reminisces about childhood books aside, if you're a book lover of any form then you will almost certainly get something from this book and that alone makes it worth reading. Do though be warned there are spoilers for some of the books she talks about and hopefully, you will look fondly back on the books of your childhood too. 3.5 stars.
I took the news and the list to my parents. 'I'm going to need all of these,' I said gently
Lucy Mangan is a complete bookworm and has been for as long as she remembers. For her, the worlds that books opened up were places of adventure and full of magic or a place of safe haven where real life seldom ventured. If she had to go out it was invariably to the library or the bookshop to acquire more reading material. They were a source of information too, a way of learning how different people reacted to different situations. The more that she read, the more that she wanted to read further; the discovery of a first book in a series would be a moment of joy as another seam of stories would be mined. As well as books for birthdays, her dad generously provided books on an almost weekly basis, introducing new authors to her. It seems like she hasn't got rid of many of these either as she has 10,000 books, yes TEN THOUSAND books at home!
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies, said Jojen. The man who never reads lives only one. ― George R.R. Martin
I wasn't a complete bookworm as a child like Lucy was, I read a fair amount as a child, but unlike her, did venture outside to play on bikes and climb trees. However, reading books like this means that I can trawl my memories of the books that formed a part of my formative reading experience. I had some overlap with Lucy's reading, Blyton and CS Lewis to name but two of the authors that we have both have read. I remember being forced to read some dire books at school, but memories of others came like Swallows & Amazons, Stig of the Dump, the Willard Price Adventure books, Adrian Mole and even the Steve Jackson and Ian Livingstone books that began with the Warlock of Firetop Mountain.
All of my reminisces about childhood books aside, if you're a book lover of any form then you will almost certainly get something from this book and that alone makes it worth reading. Do though be warned there are spoilers for some of the books she talks about and hopefully, you will look fondly back on the books of your childhood too. 3.5 stars.
February 21, 2018
I received a copy of this book from Netgalley, in exchange for an honest review.
Warm, completely relatable account of growing up as a bookworm.
I've always been a passionate believer in the power of books - even from an early age. I guess that's what being a bookworm is all about; and this is something that Lucy Mangan clearly understands too.
This book is a sweet, engaging narration of the author's life, told from a bookcentric perspective. With each chapter, she outlines the books that shaped her childhood; how they extended her learning and changed her views on the world. From the guzzling fun of The Very Hungry Caterpillar to the teenage issues covered by Judy Blume, Lucy Mangan recaptures the magic of some of the most popular kids books - identifying why she thought they were so great (or not), and why we all love them collectively.
I was delighted to see many of my old favourites in there; plus some that I'd completely forgotten (The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright - how I used to love that book!). Most of her opinions I agreed with, save for one. If you didn't sob when Beth died in Little Women... how?! I also tittered at the mention of the terrifying Der Struwwelpeter, which thankfully I never had, but my children were purchased recently by their stepfather... I took one flick through it and consigned it to the very highest shelf immediately!
As a mother myself, I especially loved the author's frank thoughts about her own child reading; and the realisation that he wouldn't necessarily engage with books in the same way she did. That's something all us parental bookworms go through, and it can be a peculiar process (I've got one son who's a total book-maniac, and another who isn't nearly so much!).
So, in conclusion - if you can't go a day without burrowing your nose in a book, Lucy Mangan's Bookworm totally gets you. It's a glorious trip down memory lane, reliving all the books that made childhood so brilliant. I loved it.
Warm, completely relatable account of growing up as a bookworm.
I've always been a passionate believer in the power of books - even from an early age. I guess that's what being a bookworm is all about; and this is something that Lucy Mangan clearly understands too.
This book is a sweet, engaging narration of the author's life, told from a bookcentric perspective. With each chapter, she outlines the books that shaped her childhood; how they extended her learning and changed her views on the world. From the guzzling fun of The Very Hungry Caterpillar to the teenage issues covered by Judy Blume, Lucy Mangan recaptures the magic of some of the most popular kids books - identifying why she thought they were so great (or not), and why we all love them collectively.
I was delighted to see many of my old favourites in there; plus some that I'd completely forgotten (The Saturdays by Elizabeth Enright - how I used to love that book!). Most of her opinions I agreed with, save for one. If you didn't sob when Beth died in Little Women... how?! I also tittered at the mention of the terrifying Der Struwwelpeter, which thankfully I never had, but my children were purchased recently by their stepfather... I took one flick through it and consigned it to the very highest shelf immediately!
As a mother myself, I especially loved the author's frank thoughts about her own child reading; and the realisation that he wouldn't necessarily engage with books in the same way she did. That's something all us parental bookworms go through, and it can be a peculiar process (I've got one son who's a total book-maniac, and another who isn't nearly so much!).
So, in conclusion - if you can't go a day without burrowing your nose in a book, Lucy Mangan's Bookworm totally gets you. It's a glorious trip down memory lane, reliving all the books that made childhood so brilliant. I loved it.
April 16, 2018
Mangan takes us along on a nostalgic chronological tour through the books she loved most as a child and adolescent. No matter how much or how little of your early reading overlaps with hers (a lot of mine did), you’ll appreciate her picture of the intensity of children’s relationship with books – they can completely shut out the world and devour their favorite stories over and over, almost living inside them, they love and believe in them so much – and her tongue-in-cheek responses to them upon rereading them decades later. I was familiar with Mangan’s funny, cheeky style from her journalism (she has had columns in the Guardian and Stylist) and one of her previous memoirs, so I knew what I was getting into and wasn’t disappointed. She doesn’t mention her family often, but when she does she infuses their caricatures with just enough warmth to feel like real people.
The author and I differ in a few key ways – I loved the Anne of Green Gables series and anthropomorphic animal stories like Watership Down, while she didn’t much appreciate Montgomery’s books and avoided animal books entirely – but I can forgive her these blind spots because she’s written such a delightful paean to the joys of being a lifelong reader. The bibliomemoir’s usual failures of too much plot summary and spoilers plus self-indulgent choices are less evident here than in many, and there are so many witty lines that it doesn’t really matter whether you give a fig about the particular titles she discusses or not. Highly recommended to bibliophiles and parents trying to make bookworms out of their children.
Some favorite lines:
(on the local library she visited as a child) “Stop a while, the safe, solid brick walls seemed to say, like generations of a certain kind of seeker after a certain kind of pleasure have done before you. Take your time. The books are here. You’ve got them. They’ve got you. What is it you’re looking for? An hour’s escapism? A quick explanation of a DIY problem that’s foxed you? A history lesson? A long investigation into some of the weightiest moral and philosophical issues that men have wrestled with down the ages? We’ve got ’em. And good radiators too.”
“The Cat in the Hat can take his anapaestic anarchy and bugger off.”
“You can identify with the main or peripheral character (or parts of them all). You can enjoy the vicarious satisfaction of their adventures and rewards. You also have a role to play as interested onlooker, able to observe and evaluate participants’ reactions to events and to each other with a greater detachment, and consequent clarity sometimes, than they can. You are learning about people, about relationships, about the variety of responses available to them and in many more situations and circumstances (and at a much faster clip) than one single real life permits. Each book is a world entire.”
“children should be allowed to read anything at any time. They will take out of it whatever they are ready for. And just occasionally, it will ready them for something else.”
“I do not get absorbed as easily or as fully. I am more pernickety. Where once any book would have done, I now frequently have to try a few to find one that suits. The joy, once guaranteed simply by opening a cover, is now more elusive. As an adult, your tastes (and/or prejudices) are more developed and particular, your time is more precious and your critical faculties are harder to switch off. As an adult, worries are greater and it takes a more powerful page to be able to banish them for the duration. Perhaps you appreciate it all the more when it comes, but I miss the days of effortless immersion, and the glorious certainty of pleasure.”
The author and I differ in a few key ways – I loved the Anne of Green Gables series and anthropomorphic animal stories like Watership Down, while she didn’t much appreciate Montgomery’s books and avoided animal books entirely – but I can forgive her these blind spots because she’s written such a delightful paean to the joys of being a lifelong reader. The bibliomemoir’s usual failures of too much plot summary and spoilers plus self-indulgent choices are less evident here than in many, and there are so many witty lines that it doesn’t really matter whether you give a fig about the particular titles she discusses or not. Highly recommended to bibliophiles and parents trying to make bookworms out of their children.
Some favorite lines:
(on the local library she visited as a child) “Stop a while, the safe, solid brick walls seemed to say, like generations of a certain kind of seeker after a certain kind of pleasure have done before you. Take your time. The books are here. You’ve got them. They’ve got you. What is it you’re looking for? An hour’s escapism? A quick explanation of a DIY problem that’s foxed you? A history lesson? A long investigation into some of the weightiest moral and philosophical issues that men have wrestled with down the ages? We’ve got ’em. And good radiators too.”
“The Cat in the Hat can take his anapaestic anarchy and bugger off.”
“You can identify with the main or peripheral character (or parts of them all). You can enjoy the vicarious satisfaction of their adventures and rewards. You also have a role to play as interested onlooker, able to observe and evaluate participants’ reactions to events and to each other with a greater detachment, and consequent clarity sometimes, than they can. You are learning about people, about relationships, about the variety of responses available to them and in many more situations and circumstances (and at a much faster clip) than one single real life permits. Each book is a world entire.”
“children should be allowed to read anything at any time. They will take out of it whatever they are ready for. And just occasionally, it will ready them for something else.”
“I do not get absorbed as easily or as fully. I am more pernickety. Where once any book would have done, I now frequently have to try a few to find one that suits. The joy, once guaranteed simply by opening a cover, is now more elusive. As an adult, your tastes (and/or prejudices) are more developed and particular, your time is more precious and your critical faculties are harder to switch off. As an adult, worries are greater and it takes a more powerful page to be able to banish them for the duration. Perhaps you appreciate it all the more when it comes, but I miss the days of effortless immersion, and the glorious certainty of pleasure.”
November 10, 2023
I did not grow up in the UK and was not familiar with a major chunk of the fare Mangan consumed (and was consumed by) during her childhood in 80s Lewisham — hell, even book tokens were news to me until I showed up for my first shift at the bookstore last year (to be fair, no equivalents exist where I'm from). Yet, I was taken by this memoir of childhood reading from the very start because it reflected something of myself back to me: the one-last-page way past my bedtime, the dogged haunting of the school library, the way presents have persisted in their synonymity with books, and the sheer need to constantly be reading something—even the back of a cereal box would do.
Wonderfully nostalgic, Bookworm captures the pure magic of reading as a child—that state of pure, uncritical immersion and unremitting discovery, the boundless joys of revisiting the same book obsessively. As both bibliomemoir and a riveting history of children's books, it recalls, contextualises, and enthuses about all sorts, from The Baby's Bouquet and Songs of Innocence to The Very Hungry Caterpillar and the Mog books, from Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton and C.S. Lewis to Lewis Carroll, E. Nesbit, and Mark Twain, and from Charlotte's Web and Bridge to Terabithia to Sweet Valley High and Judy Blume.
Everyone who has grown up bookish believes that they are different, but this book reveals how connected we are in that experience too. Mangan here shares with readers the heartbreak of learning that a library book you adored is out of print and may never be yours (Life With Lisa by Sybil Burr, a book for children inspired by the diaries of Samuel Pepys, is one that she once hunted far and wide for), talks about the various epiphanies that reading—and, really, reading alone—can bring about, regards her experience of parenting a not-yet-bookish child, and offers up gems that readers would want to reach out for: I'm adding The Phantom Tollbooth and Tom's Midnight Garden to my list as we speak, along with Private — Keep Out!, which the author asserts as one of the funniest books she has ever read. In fact, Mangan is quite funny herself—her wit and humour shine through even in the footnotes (there are many), so that the only times I paused while reading this was when it got me laughing out loud.
I liked this so much more than I expected to.
Wonderfully nostalgic, Bookworm captures the pure magic of reading as a child—that state of pure, uncritical immersion and unremitting discovery, the boundless joys of revisiting the same book obsessively. As both bibliomemoir and a riveting history of children's books, it recalls, contextualises, and enthuses about all sorts, from The Baby's Bouquet and Songs of Innocence to The Very Hungry Caterpillar and the Mog books, from Dr. Seuss, Roald Dahl, Enid Blyton and C.S. Lewis to Lewis Carroll, E. Nesbit, and Mark Twain, and from Charlotte's Web and Bridge to Terabithia to Sweet Valley High and Judy Blume.
Everyone who has grown up bookish believes that they are different, but this book reveals how connected we are in that experience too. Mangan here shares with readers the heartbreak of learning that a library book you adored is out of print and may never be yours (Life With Lisa by Sybil Burr, a book for children inspired by the diaries of Samuel Pepys, is one that she once hunted far and wide for), talks about the various epiphanies that reading—and, really, reading alone—can bring about, regards her experience of parenting a not-yet-bookish child, and offers up gems that readers would want to reach out for: I'm adding The Phantom Tollbooth and Tom's Midnight Garden to my list as we speak, along with Private — Keep Out!, which the author asserts as one of the funniest books she has ever read. In fact, Mangan is quite funny herself—her wit and humour shine through even in the footnotes (there are many), so that the only times I paused while reading this was when it got me laughing out loud.
I liked this so much more than I expected to.
February 9, 2023
Lucy Mangan is just as bookish as all of us were at her age, consuming books like The Very Hungry Caterpillar consumed everything in his path. Since she grew up in 1970s-80s London, and I in 1990s-2000s Assorted States of the USA, it was interesting to find where our reading paths diverged and (more frequently) converged. I had no idea the Sweet Valley High books were so popular in England! I never read them, because I was that insufferable teen who skipped YA and headed straight for ~the classics~, but it was interesting to learn.
Mangan is also quite funny and conversational in her writing style. Sometimes her sentences were overlong, but when you read them in a voice it was funny rather than annoying. I'm sure this would be splendid on audio. The book design is impeccable, with a charming cover and little icons in the trees that match each chapter (and the chapters! are! titled!). It was also nice to read a bibliomemoir that's primarily about light reading. I love the deep-analysis ones, and this one is not without its resonating moments, but this was primarily about a heady love of books and the childhood compulsion to read constantly. Mangan can obviously operate on a more analytical level but it was lovely to rest in a lighter bibliomemoir. There were also bits about the history of children's books thrown in, but because they were told with the same humor as the rest of the book, they did not feel out of place. There was a passage about Meg from Little Women that made me howl with laughter.
Helpfully, at the end Mangan provides a by-chapter list of the books she mentions. Great for reference!
[on Riccardo Manzotti's idea of reading and re-reading making locks and keys in a reader's mind] "The more you read, the more locks and keys you have. Rereading keeps you oiled and working smoothly, the better to let you access yourself and others for the rest of your life." (74)
[on updating historical language in children's books] "...such changes collapse time and remove all sense of history. But placement in time is important. As a child you naturally believe that the world around you is immutable. A gradual realisation that people once spoke, dressed, and even thought differently from the way we do is a profound pleasure." (121)
[on her refusal to read fairy tales] "Being a bookworm does not necessarily mean being a good reader." (142)
Mangan is also quite funny and conversational in her writing style. Sometimes her sentences were overlong, but when you read them in a voice it was funny rather than annoying. I'm sure this would be splendid on audio. The book design is impeccable, with a charming cover and little icons in the trees that match each chapter (and the chapters! are! titled!). It was also nice to read a bibliomemoir that's primarily about light reading. I love the deep-analysis ones, and this one is not without its resonating moments, but this was primarily about a heady love of books and the childhood compulsion to read constantly. Mangan can obviously operate on a more analytical level but it was lovely to rest in a lighter bibliomemoir. There were also bits about the history of children's books thrown in, but because they were told with the same humor as the rest of the book, they did not feel out of place. There was a passage about Meg from Little Women that made me howl with laughter.
Helpfully, at the end Mangan provides a by-chapter list of the books she mentions. Great for reference!
[on Riccardo Manzotti's idea of reading and re-reading making locks and keys in a reader's mind] "The more you read, the more locks and keys you have. Rereading keeps you oiled and working smoothly, the better to let you access yourself and others for the rest of your life." (74)
[on updating historical language in children's books] "...such changes collapse time and remove all sense of history. But placement in time is important. As a child you naturally believe that the world around you is immutable. A gradual realisation that people once spoke, dressed, and even thought differently from the way we do is a profound pleasure." (121)
[on her refusal to read fairy tales] "Being a bookworm does not necessarily mean being a good reader." (142)
February 7, 2021
9/10
Aaah the nostalgia ✨
Reading this felt like hearing the other side of a conversation I've been having my entire childhood. All the books I'd read and re-read, and re-re-read, obsessing over the characters and the worlds but never getting to really talk about them outside my own head. Lucy does an amazing job of voicing my enthusiasm for books like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the My Naughty Little Sisters, the Famous Fives, Narnia, A Little Princess and The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. I actually felt myself tearing up when she spoke about how reading Tom's Midnight Garden made her feel because all the old melancholy of the story came rushing back to me.
My favourite part was the unexpectedly touching conclusion in which she argues that a life spent in the company of fictional characters is not in fact any less of a life. It's not something bookworms are told often enough in the comparison driven, social-media-crazy world we live in today and was a much needed reminder that books are reason enough to be happy ❤️
Aaah the nostalgia ✨
Reading this felt like hearing the other side of a conversation I've been having my entire childhood. All the books I'd read and re-read, and re-re-read, obsessing over the characters and the worlds but never getting to really talk about them outside my own head. Lucy does an amazing job of voicing my enthusiasm for books like Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, the My Naughty Little Sisters, the Famous Fives, Narnia, A Little Princess and The Wolves of Willoughby Chase. I actually felt myself tearing up when she spoke about how reading Tom's Midnight Garden made her feel because all the old melancholy of the story came rushing back to me.
My favourite part was the unexpectedly touching conclusion in which she argues that a life spent in the company of fictional characters is not in fact any less of a life. It's not something bookworms are told often enough in the comparison driven, social-media-crazy world we live in today and was a much needed reminder that books are reason enough to be happy ❤️
May 14, 2018
For my full review: http://girlwithherheadinabook.co.uk/2...
This was one of those rare and wonderful books about which I had the vague feeling might actually have been written with me in mind. I followed journalist and author Lucy Mangan's Children's Book Corner column in the Guardian years ago, so it was with delight that I discovered that she had written a whole book on the topic. Tracing from her babyhood to the present day ('For the true bookworm, life doesn't really begin until you get hold of your first book'), in Bookworm, Mangan both relives her own life in books while also providing a running commentary on the history of children's literature. Somehow Mangan has always seemed to understand that being a Bookworm is more than a mere hobby, but rather a way of being, a lifestyle and even at times borderline social handicap. Nostalgic, restorative, reassuring, this warm-hearted and witty memoir celebrates all that is wonderful about childhood reading.
As Mangan recalls 'hiding a book on your lap to get yourself through breakfast' and 'getting hit on the head by footballs in the playground because a game had sprung up around you while you were off in Cair Paravel', I found myself nodding along in vehement agreement, but when she asked 'Was your first crush on Dickon instead of Johnny Depp?' I actually cheered aloud - I really thought that one had been just me. Being a bookworm can often seem a solitary occupation, but in Bookworm, Mangan illustrates how books have the power to unify us as few other experiences can. Mangan describes reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to her young son alongside 'the ghost of [her] toddler self and the spirit of [her] thirtysomething dad in a shared delight'. Books cross continents, class divides and generations - reading truly is an incredibly portable brand of magic.
There is something very particular too about childhood reading. Bookworm harks back to that Golden era where life barely intruded on reading time. Reading really was like oxygen, to be gulped down greedily whenever five spare minutes arose. A recurrent morning problem for me growing up was my tendency to get caught up in what I was reading when I was supposed to be getting dressed or brushing my teeth, leading to serious recriminations when I was not ready for school at the agreed upon time. Then there was the panic about making sure I had enough books to make it through an entire school day - I negotiated it down to no more than four in my school-bag. Just in case of emergencies. Yet, while some of these habits remain with me to this day - I can still be delayed out the door in the morning if the drama is at a crux point, I rarely travel without at least two books and a Kindle - the ability to fully immerse within a fictional world is not the same as it was during childhood. While reading, my childhood self became quite literally deaf to the world - the teacher could call my name as often as she liked, the doorbell could ring, I knew and cared nothing about it. Adult me has lost that ability and reading Bookworm, I felt nostalgic for the experience.
Despite the decade or so difference in age, Mangan and I appear to have crossed over surprisingly (or unsurprisingly?) closely in our childhood reading. Like her, I am a huge fan of Judith Kerr from The Tiger Who Came To Tea through to When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit and despite not being hugely fond of cats, I do rather adore Mog. Many other old friends also make appearances over the course of the memoir - Shirley Hughes, Maurice Sendak, Quentin Blake, Raymond Briggs, the list goes on and on, even including some of the more obscure titles such as Tottie: The Story of a Doll's House, a book I loved but which nobody I have ever met has read. Again like Mangan however, I too never could take to Barbar the Elephant but yet, as Mangan points out 'the bookworm's prime directive: any book is better than no book. Always.' I remember reading a Barbar book in that exact spirit - it was all that was available at the time.
Bookworm made me realise again that gaining the ability to read gives you power over your own life. We recognise and applaud this in terms of social mobility and education, but I had not considered it in terms of growing up. Being transported by a book is the first independent travel I ever made. Mangan contemplates reading on both the physical side (more shared happy memories as she recalls BBC's Look and Learn with Wordy and the Magic E) and the horror of arriving at school and realising that you have to interact with confusing children all day rather than being able to mind your business at home with your books. As Mangan describes, unlike with the Hungry Caterpillar, there will be no magical transformation - 'it's bookworm, not bookbutterfly'. At least you have the books to grant some form of padding against life's early traumas.
Of course, not every book can be recalled with fond and fuzzy nostalgia. Returning to bygone beloved books now as a parent, Mangan expresses wry amusement at the lack of 'satisfactory narrative resolution' within the Mr Men books and a certain discomfort with some of Roald Dahl's sadism. Yet, despite her clear disappointment at revisiting Enid Blyton and discovering her practically unreadable, I admired Mangan's dedicated defence of Blyton's place in the canon. I am in the bracket of children banned from Blyton, less from ideological reasons as much as the fact that my mother felt she had missed out on good books in her own childhood by reading Blyton and didn't want the mistake perpetuated. Although I did read Malory Towers, I don't have strong associations with her myself but I can see how for many, Blyton was 'the gateway drug' on the bookworm journey. It's just that for me, I think it was Noel Streatfeild.
There is so much more to Bookworm though than one woman's retrospective on her reading. Mangan explores how reading promotes empathy, with the example of how her own repeated reads of The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark helped her as a non-nocturnal-phobe to understand why others might be afraid of this. Quoting philosopher and psychologist Riccardo Manzotti, she describes how reading and rereading gives us 'both locks and the keys with which to open them'. Mangan considers how re-reading deepens the relationship with a story, with the area of life which the story relates to and ultimately an improved understanding of yourself too. The child who reads becomes the adult who thinks.
Of particular interest to me was Mangan's frequent mentions of encountering and appropriating unfamiliar vocabulary through reading. She notes astutely one of the wonderful elements of Richmal Crompton's Just William stories is the fact that they make use of interesting vocabulary which makes no attempt to dumb itself down for its readers. During my time as a teacher, I was often shocked by how limited the vocabulary of my pupils could be (oddly, when I taught a class where English was predominantly the second language, their vocabulary tended to be better) but more than that, the way in which the drive was to pander to this rather than target it was quite astonishing. I suggested a topic on Bill Naughton's fantastic story Seventeen Oranges and although we did do it, colleagues insisted on using the simplified version re-written for non-English speakers rather than the original. Yet, vocabulary deficiency is recognised as a major education barrier for children of all ages. If a seven year-old child is being protected from a simple story about stolen oranges, the notion that we can be surprised a few years later when they struggle to read an exam paper is ridiculous. Bluntly, you need to get your kids reading and you need to allow them to run into the occasional unusual word when they do.
What is interesting is how many of these 'classics' which Mangan loved in the 1970s and which I loved with equal fervour in the 1990s were written decades and decades before either of us were born. Even The Family From One End Street (which has a special place in my heart as I read it with my grandmother), celebrated by Mangan as the first ever book to depict working-class children as heroes, was published way back in 1937. Yet when I look in the children's section Waterstone's now, I see shelf upon shelf of Captain Underpants and generic Young Adult franchises. If I want the books that I loved, I seem to have to go digging. Is this again the urge to 'protect' from material that is too challenging? I'm not dismissing newer releases - I know how much former pupils enjoyed David Walliams, Horrid Henry and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, I just wonder a little about where some of the others have gone.
I suppose another issue may be the rise of the term 'problematic'. Mangan rolls her eyes at a parent who mentioned that she would not be buying her children any of the Narnia books because of the 'Christianity in them'. Never mind that they are lovely and funny stories with fantastic characters (Reepicheep! Puddleglum! The DLF!) but the idea that a child just might pick up on an allegory means that they are to be considered off-limits. And like Mangan, a lot of that escaped me anyway when I was reading it for the first time. Even a recent explanation of how Prince Caspian was a metaphor was brand new information for me as at the time I just liked the story. Your child is not going to be brainwashed by Christianity by reading Narnia. Just let them get on with it. Little House on the Prairie is another series that seems to be at risk from being branded 'problematic'. When I was little, attempts to lend out our copies to friends were met with failure because the death of Willy the pig proved too traumatic (personally, I found it unpleasant but not exactly scarring) but these days the focus is on the depictions of race and land acquisition. I would agree that these areas do prompt discussion. But what's wrong with that? Again, it's a lock and a key to understanding that these issues exist in the world. I will never agree that shutting a book away and pretending it does not exist is the right way of handling a contentious message.
There is something very particular about the passionate defense you can feel about the books you loved in childhood - I can feel seriously riled if I hear someone express disdain for Prairie or Streatfeild or indeed any of the many, many, many books that I galloped through as a child, turned back to the beginning and then galloped through yet again. Mangan relates her belated discovery of Roger Lancelyn Green's accounts of mythology and the melancholic feeling that although they are wonderful, she has arrived at them too late for them to form part of her identity in the way that the books she read at the time did. I sympathised as I actually did read several of Green's Greek mythology books and not only did his retelling of the night of Hercules' conception bring up confusing feelings, but I was reusing the names from The Luck of Troy in my own story-writing for the next four years.
Skipping across the classics, Mangan gives potted histories around various of their publication alongside her personal recollections. I skipped Alice in Wonderland as a child and feel quite firmly that it is Too Late Now but appreciate how significant is within the canon as a whole. I did read most of the canon of Frances Hodgson Burnett however and it was reassuring to not only hear from another fan but also someone who thought that bun scene in A Little Princess was perhaps a bit 'much'. It's strange, a few years ago we were picking films to watch and a friend of a friend explained at great length how A Little Princess was her all-time favourite film, she had watched it dozens of times, was obsessed with it still as an adult and then was utterly astonished to discover it had also been a book. The bookworm in me was horrified. That being said, I think that The Secret Garden is both a better book and a better film (1992 version).
It is likely obvious by now that I read Bookworm making copious notes and having numerous moments of rapturous recognition (Mangan thought that What Katy Did At School was the best Katy book? Me too! Thought Starlight Barking was the most bonkers sequel you've ever read in your life? Me too! Devastated by the ending of Charlotte's Web? Me too! Reading Goodnight Mister Tom changed you for life? Me too!) but it would take too long to list every single one here. What was particularly poignant though was reflecting again about this chapter in my life with the distance of adulthood. I am in the slow process of reacquiring my childhood books from my parents' garage and attic, something which has prompted some re-evaluation over which books are worth carrying forward and which need to take the trip to the charity shop. More than that though, there's the painful lesson that no matter what I would wish, one cannot force a book on another person.
Growing up, I used to spent huge amounts of time trying to pick out books that I thought my cousins would enjoy. They never read them. The fault was not with them, but with my own inability to realise that not everyone is a bookworm-in-waiting. It's the classic gift-giving trap - don't give someone something just because you think it's worth having. This counts double when it comes to reading. Just because I think a book is worthy or unworthy has no bearing on whether someone else will enjoy it. I do think this is something I am getting better at - I have even bit my tongue when a reluctant reader told me proudly how much he had enjoyed The Boy in Striped Pyjamas even though that is a book which offends me on every level. As Mangan points out, being a good bookworm does not make you necessarily a good reader - what do I know about what another person will enjoy? The joy of being a childhood bookworm is that you are set free to roam an imaginary landscape at your will. My own mother bought me many books, read to me and funded many of my own later purchases and reading is a big part of our relationship (I bought her a copy of this book for Mother's Day this year), but I was also allowed (most of the time) to make my own choices and it is important that all children have the same opportunity.
As Mangan points out, while being a bookworm may make social interaction more confusing, it gives back a heck of a lot more than it takes. While at primary school, I was frequently taken out of class to show visitors what exactly I was reading, something which I found confusing until I became a teacher and realised how much of an oddity I must have been. Reading really does please teachers. It also does grant a facility with language that makes coursework and exams are an awful lot easier, not to mention writing covering letters in later life. My own dear grandmother never had a great deal of faith in the English education system but she did concede that given that I had read a lot, I was at least 'trained for something.' Reading Bookworm filled me with such joy in revisiting so many of my early favourites but whereas other writers might have been satisfied with a nostalgic countdown of books they loved, Mangan has instead provided a battle cry for reading itself. Bookworm is a book to contemplate, treasure and revisit, to remind oneself that to be a bookworm is a gift and to look on each new book as an adventure. More than that, when we return to the books we loved as children, we are as close as we ever can be to our own past selves - for the bookworm, is this not the most magical thing of all?
This was one of those rare and wonderful books about which I had the vague feeling might actually have been written with me in mind. I followed journalist and author Lucy Mangan's Children's Book Corner column in the Guardian years ago, so it was with delight that I discovered that she had written a whole book on the topic. Tracing from her babyhood to the present day ('For the true bookworm, life doesn't really begin until you get hold of your first book'), in Bookworm, Mangan both relives her own life in books while also providing a running commentary on the history of children's literature. Somehow Mangan has always seemed to understand that being a Bookworm is more than a mere hobby, but rather a way of being, a lifestyle and even at times borderline social handicap. Nostalgic, restorative, reassuring, this warm-hearted and witty memoir celebrates all that is wonderful about childhood reading.
As Mangan recalls 'hiding a book on your lap to get yourself through breakfast' and 'getting hit on the head by footballs in the playground because a game had sprung up around you while you were off in Cair Paravel', I found myself nodding along in vehement agreement, but when she asked 'Was your first crush on Dickon instead of Johnny Depp?' I actually cheered aloud - I really thought that one had been just me. Being a bookworm can often seem a solitary occupation, but in Bookworm, Mangan illustrates how books have the power to unify us as few other experiences can. Mangan describes reading The Very Hungry Caterpillar to her young son alongside 'the ghost of [her] toddler self and the spirit of [her] thirtysomething dad in a shared delight'. Books cross continents, class divides and generations - reading truly is an incredibly portable brand of magic.
There is something very particular too about childhood reading. Bookworm harks back to that Golden era where life barely intruded on reading time. Reading really was like oxygen, to be gulped down greedily whenever five spare minutes arose. A recurrent morning problem for me growing up was my tendency to get caught up in what I was reading when I was supposed to be getting dressed or brushing my teeth, leading to serious recriminations when I was not ready for school at the agreed upon time. Then there was the panic about making sure I had enough books to make it through an entire school day - I negotiated it down to no more than four in my school-bag. Just in case of emergencies. Yet, while some of these habits remain with me to this day - I can still be delayed out the door in the morning if the drama is at a crux point, I rarely travel without at least two books and a Kindle - the ability to fully immerse within a fictional world is not the same as it was during childhood. While reading, my childhood self became quite literally deaf to the world - the teacher could call my name as often as she liked, the doorbell could ring, I knew and cared nothing about it. Adult me has lost that ability and reading Bookworm, I felt nostalgic for the experience.
Despite the decade or so difference in age, Mangan and I appear to have crossed over surprisingly (or unsurprisingly?) closely in our childhood reading. Like her, I am a huge fan of Judith Kerr from The Tiger Who Came To Tea through to When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit and despite not being hugely fond of cats, I do rather adore Mog. Many other old friends also make appearances over the course of the memoir - Shirley Hughes, Maurice Sendak, Quentin Blake, Raymond Briggs, the list goes on and on, even including some of the more obscure titles such as Tottie: The Story of a Doll's House, a book I loved but which nobody I have ever met has read. Again like Mangan however, I too never could take to Barbar the Elephant but yet, as Mangan points out 'the bookworm's prime directive: any book is better than no book. Always.' I remember reading a Barbar book in that exact spirit - it was all that was available at the time.
Bookworm made me realise again that gaining the ability to read gives you power over your own life. We recognise and applaud this in terms of social mobility and education, but I had not considered it in terms of growing up. Being transported by a book is the first independent travel I ever made. Mangan contemplates reading on both the physical side (more shared happy memories as she recalls BBC's Look and Learn with Wordy and the Magic E) and the horror of arriving at school and realising that you have to interact with confusing children all day rather than being able to mind your business at home with your books. As Mangan describes, unlike with the Hungry Caterpillar, there will be no magical transformation - 'it's bookworm, not bookbutterfly'. At least you have the books to grant some form of padding against life's early traumas.
Of course, not every book can be recalled with fond and fuzzy nostalgia. Returning to bygone beloved books now as a parent, Mangan expresses wry amusement at the lack of 'satisfactory narrative resolution' within the Mr Men books and a certain discomfort with some of Roald Dahl's sadism. Yet, despite her clear disappointment at revisiting Enid Blyton and discovering her practically unreadable, I admired Mangan's dedicated defence of Blyton's place in the canon. I am in the bracket of children banned from Blyton, less from ideological reasons as much as the fact that my mother felt she had missed out on good books in her own childhood by reading Blyton and didn't want the mistake perpetuated. Although I did read Malory Towers, I don't have strong associations with her myself but I can see how for many, Blyton was 'the gateway drug' on the bookworm journey. It's just that for me, I think it was Noel Streatfeild.
There is so much more to Bookworm though than one woman's retrospective on her reading. Mangan explores how reading promotes empathy, with the example of how her own repeated reads of The Owl Who Was Afraid of the Dark helped her as a non-nocturnal-phobe to understand why others might be afraid of this. Quoting philosopher and psychologist Riccardo Manzotti, she describes how reading and rereading gives us 'both locks and the keys with which to open them'. Mangan considers how re-reading deepens the relationship with a story, with the area of life which the story relates to and ultimately an improved understanding of yourself too. The child who reads becomes the adult who thinks.
Of particular interest to me was Mangan's frequent mentions of encountering and appropriating unfamiliar vocabulary through reading. She notes astutely one of the wonderful elements of Richmal Crompton's Just William stories is the fact that they make use of interesting vocabulary which makes no attempt to dumb itself down for its readers. During my time as a teacher, I was often shocked by how limited the vocabulary of my pupils could be (oddly, when I taught a class where English was predominantly the second language, their vocabulary tended to be better) but more than that, the way in which the drive was to pander to this rather than target it was quite astonishing. I suggested a topic on Bill Naughton's fantastic story Seventeen Oranges and although we did do it, colleagues insisted on using the simplified version re-written for non-English speakers rather than the original. Yet, vocabulary deficiency is recognised as a major education barrier for children of all ages. If a seven year-old child is being protected from a simple story about stolen oranges, the notion that we can be surprised a few years later when they struggle to read an exam paper is ridiculous. Bluntly, you need to get your kids reading and you need to allow them to run into the occasional unusual word when they do.
What is interesting is how many of these 'classics' which Mangan loved in the 1970s and which I loved with equal fervour in the 1990s were written decades and decades before either of us were born. Even The Family From One End Street (which has a special place in my heart as I read it with my grandmother), celebrated by Mangan as the first ever book to depict working-class children as heroes, was published way back in 1937. Yet when I look in the children's section Waterstone's now, I see shelf upon shelf of Captain Underpants and generic Young Adult franchises. If I want the books that I loved, I seem to have to go digging. Is this again the urge to 'protect' from material that is too challenging? I'm not dismissing newer releases - I know how much former pupils enjoyed David Walliams, Horrid Henry and Diary of a Wimpy Kid, I just wonder a little about where some of the others have gone.
I suppose another issue may be the rise of the term 'problematic'. Mangan rolls her eyes at a parent who mentioned that she would not be buying her children any of the Narnia books because of the 'Christianity in them'. Never mind that they are lovely and funny stories with fantastic characters (Reepicheep! Puddleglum! The DLF!) but the idea that a child just might pick up on an allegory means that they are to be considered off-limits. And like Mangan, a lot of that escaped me anyway when I was reading it for the first time. Even a recent explanation of how Prince Caspian was a metaphor was brand new information for me as at the time I just liked the story. Your child is not going to be brainwashed by Christianity by reading Narnia. Just let them get on with it. Little House on the Prairie is another series that seems to be at risk from being branded 'problematic'. When I was little, attempts to lend out our copies to friends were met with failure because the death of Willy the pig proved too traumatic (personally, I found it unpleasant but not exactly scarring) but these days the focus is on the depictions of race and land acquisition. I would agree that these areas do prompt discussion. But what's wrong with that? Again, it's a lock and a key to understanding that these issues exist in the world. I will never agree that shutting a book away and pretending it does not exist is the right way of handling a contentious message.
There is something very particular about the passionate defense you can feel about the books you loved in childhood - I can feel seriously riled if I hear someone express disdain for Prairie or Streatfeild or indeed any of the many, many, many books that I galloped through as a child, turned back to the beginning and then galloped through yet again. Mangan relates her belated discovery of Roger Lancelyn Green's accounts of mythology and the melancholic feeling that although they are wonderful, she has arrived at them too late for them to form part of her identity in the way that the books she read at the time did. I sympathised as I actually did read several of Green's Greek mythology books and not only did his retelling of the night of Hercules' conception bring up confusing feelings, but I was reusing the names from The Luck of Troy in my own story-writing for the next four years.
Skipping across the classics, Mangan gives potted histories around various of their publication alongside her personal recollections. I skipped Alice in Wonderland as a child and feel quite firmly that it is Too Late Now but appreciate how significant is within the canon as a whole. I did read most of the canon of Frances Hodgson Burnett however and it was reassuring to not only hear from another fan but also someone who thought that bun scene in A Little Princess was perhaps a bit 'much'. It's strange, a few years ago we were picking films to watch and a friend of a friend explained at great length how A Little Princess was her all-time favourite film, she had watched it dozens of times, was obsessed with it still as an adult and then was utterly astonished to discover it had also been a book. The bookworm in me was horrified. That being said, I think that The Secret Garden is both a better book and a better film (1992 version).
It is likely obvious by now that I read Bookworm making copious notes and having numerous moments of rapturous recognition (Mangan thought that What Katy Did At School was the best Katy book? Me too! Thought Starlight Barking was the most bonkers sequel you've ever read in your life? Me too! Devastated by the ending of Charlotte's Web? Me too! Reading Goodnight Mister Tom changed you for life? Me too!) but it would take too long to list every single one here. What was particularly poignant though was reflecting again about this chapter in my life with the distance of adulthood. I am in the slow process of reacquiring my childhood books from my parents' garage and attic, something which has prompted some re-evaluation over which books are worth carrying forward and which need to take the trip to the charity shop. More than that though, there's the painful lesson that no matter what I would wish, one cannot force a book on another person.
Growing up, I used to spent huge amounts of time trying to pick out books that I thought my cousins would enjoy. They never read them. The fault was not with them, but with my own inability to realise that not everyone is a bookworm-in-waiting. It's the classic gift-giving trap - don't give someone something just because you think it's worth having. This counts double when it comes to reading. Just because I think a book is worthy or unworthy has no bearing on whether someone else will enjoy it. I do think this is something I am getting better at - I have even bit my tongue when a reluctant reader told me proudly how much he had enjoyed The Boy in Striped Pyjamas even though that is a book which offends me on every level. As Mangan points out, being a good bookworm does not make you necessarily a good reader - what do I know about what another person will enjoy? The joy of being a childhood bookworm is that you are set free to roam an imaginary landscape at your will. My own mother bought me many books, read to me and funded many of my own later purchases and reading is a big part of our relationship (I bought her a copy of this book for Mother's Day this year), but I was also allowed (most of the time) to make my own choices and it is important that all children have the same opportunity.
As Mangan points out, while being a bookworm may make social interaction more confusing, it gives back a heck of a lot more than it takes. While at primary school, I was frequently taken out of class to show visitors what exactly I was reading, something which I found confusing until I became a teacher and realised how much of an oddity I must have been. Reading really does please teachers. It also does grant a facility with language that makes coursework and exams are an awful lot easier, not to mention writing covering letters in later life. My own dear grandmother never had a great deal of faith in the English education system but she did concede that given that I had read a lot, I was at least 'trained for something.' Reading Bookworm filled me with such joy in revisiting so many of my early favourites but whereas other writers might have been satisfied with a nostalgic countdown of books they loved, Mangan has instead provided a battle cry for reading itself. Bookworm is a book to contemplate, treasure and revisit, to remind oneself that to be a bookworm is a gift and to look on each new book as an adventure. More than that, when we return to the books we loved as children, we are as close as we ever can be to our own past selves - for the bookworm, is this not the most magical thing of all?
July 15, 2021
I actually and in fact started on Lucy Mangan’s Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading in 2018 and then kind of forgot about it until just a few days ago when I was checking through my Goodreads Currently Reading shelf and decided to sit down and finally read Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading from cover to cover. But really and to be perfectly honest, I should probably admit (and with no sense of reading guilt whatsoever) that I in fact only skimmed through Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading instead of perusing Lucy Mangan’s presented words with a detailed and proverbial fine toothed comb (and kind of interesting that the expression of using a fine toothed comb on something probably comes from the fact that to get rid of head lice, one needed to use a fine toothed comb and to spend a lot of time on this).
For in my opinion with Lucy Mangan’s presented text in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, I was noticing sometimes feeling not quite in agreement with Mangan about her musings and totally onside with her regarding others, in other words agreeing with how Lucy Mangan rates her included children’s authors sometimes and kind of grinding and gritting my proverbial teeth at other instances, and yes, most definitely also finding Mangan’s tone of narrative voice a bit condescending at times, as though she legitimately seems to expect her readers to have the same choices and attitudes about their own childhood reading and children’s literature in general. And therefore, I could only finish Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading with sufficient and lasting reading pleasure and joy by not reading Lucy Mangan’s printed words too closely and too meticulously, by giving myself the permission to consider Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading as a decent but also not spectacular introduction to children’s books (and to also realise that just because Lucy Mangan’s narration sometimes to and for my reading eyes sure seems to feel a bit like a “my way or the highway” kind of attitude, I do not have to follow this pedantically and I also do not have to completely agree with the author either).
For example, while I do very much agree with Lucy Mangan (like myself) clearly pointing out in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading that in Louisa May Alcott’s classic Little Women Jo March is much better suited married to Professor Bhaer and that Laurie (that Theodore Lawrence) is much more suited as a husband for Jo’s younger sister Amy, Mangan’s rather lack of appreciation of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne Shirley character has felt a bit like a personal affront (and not so much the fact that Lucy Mangan obviously did not really enjoy reading Anne of Green Gables as a child but more so that there is at least in my opinion rather a bit of a textual demand in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading that other readers, that we all should be equally lacking in total enjoyment of Anne of Green Gables as a character and equally a bit L.M. Montgomery as an author), and not to mention that in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, I do find it rather inconsistent that while Lucy Mangan (and for me quite personally understandable) finds Heinrich Hoffmann’s Der Struwwelpeter both textually and illustratively too creepy for young children, she then seems to have no such issues with the in my opinion just as overtly frightening Maurice Sendak picture book Outside Over There (which I am very glad to not have encountered as a child, and which I do feel has many quite problematic and uncomfortable similarities with Der Struwwelpeter).
But indeed, the main reason why my rating for Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading is in fact only two stars (and not the three stars I was in fact considering whilst skimming through Lucy Mangan’s text) is that Mangan basically ignoring MOST continental European children’s authors (and no, Heinrich Hoffmann does not really count for me here) in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, this really does rather personally offend me (as for me, a book on children’s literature that makes no mention of authors like Astrid Lindgren, Tove Jansson and Erich Kästner is really not a legitimate and true tome on childhood reading)
For in my opinion with Lucy Mangan’s presented text in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, I was noticing sometimes feeling not quite in agreement with Mangan about her musings and totally onside with her regarding others, in other words agreeing with how Lucy Mangan rates her included children’s authors sometimes and kind of grinding and gritting my proverbial teeth at other instances, and yes, most definitely also finding Mangan’s tone of narrative voice a bit condescending at times, as though she legitimately seems to expect her readers to have the same choices and attitudes about their own childhood reading and children’s literature in general. And therefore, I could only finish Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading with sufficient and lasting reading pleasure and joy by not reading Lucy Mangan’s printed words too closely and too meticulously, by giving myself the permission to consider Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading as a decent but also not spectacular introduction to children’s books (and to also realise that just because Lucy Mangan’s narration sometimes to and for my reading eyes sure seems to feel a bit like a “my way or the highway” kind of attitude, I do not have to follow this pedantically and I also do not have to completely agree with the author either).
For example, while I do very much agree with Lucy Mangan (like myself) clearly pointing out in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading that in Louisa May Alcott’s classic Little Women Jo March is much better suited married to Professor Bhaer and that Laurie (that Theodore Lawrence) is much more suited as a husband for Jo’s younger sister Amy, Mangan’s rather lack of appreciation of Lucy Maud Montgomery’s Anne Shirley character has felt a bit like a personal affront (and not so much the fact that Lucy Mangan obviously did not really enjoy reading Anne of Green Gables as a child but more so that there is at least in my opinion rather a bit of a textual demand in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading that other readers, that we all should be equally lacking in total enjoyment of Anne of Green Gables as a character and equally a bit L.M. Montgomery as an author), and not to mention that in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, I do find it rather inconsistent that while Lucy Mangan (and for me quite personally understandable) finds Heinrich Hoffmann’s Der Struwwelpeter both textually and illustratively too creepy for young children, she then seems to have no such issues with the in my opinion just as overtly frightening Maurice Sendak picture book Outside Over There (which I am very glad to not have encountered as a child, and which I do feel has many quite problematic and uncomfortable similarities with Der Struwwelpeter).
But indeed, the main reason why my rating for Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading is in fact only two stars (and not the three stars I was in fact considering whilst skimming through Lucy Mangan’s text) is that Mangan basically ignoring MOST continental European children’s authors (and no, Heinrich Hoffmann does not really count for me here) in Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading, this really does rather personally offend me (as for me, a book on children’s literature that makes no mention of authors like Astrid Lindgren, Tove Jansson and Erich Kästner is really not a legitimate and true tome on childhood reading)
March 22, 2023
DNFed sixty percent because I am done. I got more and more annoyed as the book went on.
Wanted to read the best of a bookworm’s journey but not the constant bashing. Criticism and opinions are fine. But I am just not a fan for this one.
Wanted to read the best of a bookworm’s journey but not the constant bashing. Criticism and opinions are fine. But I am just not a fan for this one.
April 15, 2018
I too was a girl told off at breakfast for not passing the cornflakes packet as I hadn't finished reading it yet.
November 22, 2023
I decided to read Bookworm: A Memoir of Childhood Reading because someone said that Lucy Managan ‘really got it’ – ‘it’ being the compulsion to read books. That certainly proved to be true, as Mangan writes in a witty and self-deprecating manner about a childhood dominated by reading. Thus it’s similar in style and spirit to Francis Spufford’s The Child That Books Built, which I highly recommend, while differing in the particulars. Both books made me feel like the author was a kindred spirit, as I too was a voracious reader as a child (and still am).
Mangan goes through her youth chronologically, recounting quite rhapsodically the particular appeal of particular books and series that she loved. Her memories are impressively clear and reminded me of my own, as our tastes overlapped quite a bit. I especially enjoyed her recollections of The Worst Witch, Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories, the The Chronicles of Narnia (like Mangan, I was oblivious to the Christian theme therein until The Last Battle), Ballet Shoes, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, and A Little Princess. It was lovely both to remember the pleasure these novels gave me and learn some contextual information about them.
It was also interesting to notice how Mangan’s and my childhood reading experiences diverge as a result of her being about five years older. A great many of the books we read were the same, but those years made the difference between learning to read during the Cold War and just after the Berlin War fell. Thus she learned to fear nuclear annihilation, whereas I grew up terrified of environmental breakdown instead. I also noticed that children’s books go out of fashion much more slowly than teen books, as there was a lot less overlap with her high school years. I read the ubiquitous Sweet Valley High books when there was nothing else available, and some Judy Blume, but new authors who wrote for teens like Jacqueline Wilson and Louise Rennison had arrived by the late 1990s. Moreover, I got into sci-fi during primary school via the Animorphs series and that remains my favourite genre, whereas Mangan isn’t into sci-fi or fantasy. (In this respect I found more common ground with The Child That Books Built.) That said, I recently came across a 2001 diary which mentioned I was reading Virginia Woolf’s The Waves at the age of 15. I didn’t get very far with it, as I then discovered the Discworld series in the library and read about twenty of them in a fortnight.
I recommend this memoir to any keen reader as it’s enjoyable in its own right and will bring back your own happy memories of childhood reading. The familiarity of the books mentioned, all of which Mangan helpfully lists in an appendix, will depend on the similarity of your upbringing to hers, as a girl in a stable white British family during the late 1970s and 80s. Her childhood experience of trying to read while adults periodically interrupted with meals, socialising, lessons, etc, etc will resonate with any bookworm, though. My parents probably still have a primary school report of mine that said: ‘It’s so nice to see Anna reading when children these days all seem to prefer television. It seems a pity to disturb her sometimes.’
Mangan goes through her youth chronologically, recounting quite rhapsodically the particular appeal of particular books and series that she loved. Her memories are impressively clear and reminded me of my own, as our tastes overlapped quite a bit. I especially enjoyed her recollections of The Worst Witch, Milly-Molly-Mandy Stories, the The Chronicles of Narnia (like Mangan, I was oblivious to the Christian theme therein until The Last Battle), Ballet Shoes, When Hitler Stole Pink Rabbit, and A Little Princess. It was lovely both to remember the pleasure these novels gave me and learn some contextual information about them.
It was also interesting to notice how Mangan’s and my childhood reading experiences diverge as a result of her being about five years older. A great many of the books we read were the same, but those years made the difference between learning to read during the Cold War and just after the Berlin War fell. Thus she learned to fear nuclear annihilation, whereas I grew up terrified of environmental breakdown instead. I also noticed that children’s books go out of fashion much more slowly than teen books, as there was a lot less overlap with her high school years. I read the ubiquitous Sweet Valley High books when there was nothing else available, and some Judy Blume, but new authors who wrote for teens like Jacqueline Wilson and Louise Rennison had arrived by the late 1990s. Moreover, I got into sci-fi during primary school via the Animorphs series and that remains my favourite genre, whereas Mangan isn’t into sci-fi or fantasy. (In this respect I found more common ground with The Child That Books Built.) That said, I recently came across a 2001 diary which mentioned I was reading Virginia Woolf’s The Waves at the age of 15. I didn’t get very far with it, as I then discovered the Discworld series in the library and read about twenty of them in a fortnight.
I recommend this memoir to any keen reader as it’s enjoyable in its own right and will bring back your own happy memories of childhood reading. The familiarity of the books mentioned, all of which Mangan helpfully lists in an appendix, will depend on the similarity of your upbringing to hers, as a girl in a stable white British family during the late 1970s and 80s. Her childhood experience of trying to read while adults periodically interrupted with meals, socialising, lessons, etc, etc will resonate with any bookworm, though. My parents probably still have a primary school report of mine that said: ‘It’s so nice to see Anna reading when children these days all seem to prefer television. It seems a pity to disturb her sometimes.’
January 23, 2021
As delightful as I expected it to be.
October 5, 2018
The reader finds out quite a lot about Lucy Mangan from her book. For one, that she has an amazing memory for the books she read as a child. I think few of us, myself included, could bring to mind so much detail about the books we read at each age. Then again, the author is clearly a hoarder, or perhaps more correctly, a cherisher of books, still owning many of the books she acquired as a child.
Bookworm gives the reader a picture of a somewhat solitary child; not lonely, but self-contained, grabbing every spare moment to curl up somewhere with a book. If you’re a bookworm yourself, you’ll be familiar with the dilemma of being obliged to fulfil social engagements when immersed in a particularly gripping read. Encouraged by her father in particular, the author fell in love with libraries at an early age and believes in the importance of their role still. Mangan is passionate about passing on her love of reading to her son, even if he is a bit reluctant occasionally to show the degree of excitement she’d like over a particularly beloved book!
The author is pragmatic about the distractions from reading that exist in today’s world. She notes ‘Encouraging reading in this day and age is like trying to create a wildflower meadow. Most of the job is just about clearing and preserving a space in which rarer and more delicate plants can grow…’ At times opinionated (in the sense of knowing what she likes and, to a certain extent, liking what she knows), Mangan has no time for Tolkien, gives short shrift to the books of Stephanie Meyer and confesses she still hasn’t touched a book by Charles Dickens. Having said that, in her mind, the bookworm’s ‘prime directive’ is that any book is better than no book.
Her love of words is evident and there are witty, occasionally acerbic, footnotes throughout the book. A firm advocate of rereading, Mangan observes, ‘what you lose in suspense and excitement on rereading is counterbalanced by a greater depth of knowledge and an almost tangibly increasing mastery over the world.’ And returning to a book after many years, she argues, can bring new insight. ‘The beauty of a book is that it remains the same for as long as you need it…You can’t wear out a book’s patience.’
Mangan rejects the notion that a book should be regarded merely as a beautiful object: ‘Quantity of content over quality of livery has been the philosophy I have clung to’. In other words, don’t waste money on a beautiful book you’re never going to read. Still a prolific reader, she makes interesting observations about her experience of reading as an adult versus as a child, recognizing she does not get absorbed as easily or as fully in books as she once did. ‘I miss the days of effortless immersion and the glorious certainty of pleasure.’
Bookworm may be a very individual take on favourite childhood books (personally I loved the Dr. Seuss books) but I believe it speaks to all of us for whom reading is an essential pleasure, maybe even an essential part, of life. One of my favourite quotations from the book is: ‘I have lived so many lives through books, gone to so many places, so many eras, looked through so many different eyes, considered so many different points of view.’ Amen to that.
Bookworm gives the reader a picture of a somewhat solitary child; not lonely, but self-contained, grabbing every spare moment to curl up somewhere with a book. If you’re a bookworm yourself, you’ll be familiar with the dilemma of being obliged to fulfil social engagements when immersed in a particularly gripping read. Encouraged by her father in particular, the author fell in love with libraries at an early age and believes in the importance of their role still. Mangan is passionate about passing on her love of reading to her son, even if he is a bit reluctant occasionally to show the degree of excitement she’d like over a particularly beloved book!
The author is pragmatic about the distractions from reading that exist in today’s world. She notes ‘Encouraging reading in this day and age is like trying to create a wildflower meadow. Most of the job is just about clearing and preserving a space in which rarer and more delicate plants can grow…’ At times opinionated (in the sense of knowing what she likes and, to a certain extent, liking what she knows), Mangan has no time for Tolkien, gives short shrift to the books of Stephanie Meyer and confesses she still hasn’t touched a book by Charles Dickens. Having said that, in her mind, the bookworm’s ‘prime directive’ is that any book is better than no book.
Her love of words is evident and there are witty, occasionally acerbic, footnotes throughout the book. A firm advocate of rereading, Mangan observes, ‘what you lose in suspense and excitement on rereading is counterbalanced by a greater depth of knowledge and an almost tangibly increasing mastery over the world.’ And returning to a book after many years, she argues, can bring new insight. ‘The beauty of a book is that it remains the same for as long as you need it…You can’t wear out a book’s patience.’
Mangan rejects the notion that a book should be regarded merely as a beautiful object: ‘Quantity of content over quality of livery has been the philosophy I have clung to’. In other words, don’t waste money on a beautiful book you’re never going to read. Still a prolific reader, she makes interesting observations about her experience of reading as an adult versus as a child, recognizing she does not get absorbed as easily or as fully in books as she once did. ‘I miss the days of effortless immersion and the glorious certainty of pleasure.’
Bookworm may be a very individual take on favourite childhood books (personally I loved the Dr. Seuss books) but I believe it speaks to all of us for whom reading is an essential pleasure, maybe even an essential part, of life. One of my favourite quotations from the book is: ‘I have lived so many lives through books, gone to so many places, so many eras, looked through so many different eyes, considered so many different points of view.’ Amen to that.
November 1, 2019
The 'date started' is approximate! I only remember the date I finished which is pretty cool since it was Halloween in the U.S., and this is a book dedicated to childhood reading.
I do love a book where I learn things - and this book was full of unknown (to me) tidbits on various authors and/or the childhood books they read. Lucy Mangan has a terrific sense of humor to boot, so if you read this one, don't miss her footnotes where she is not shy about injecting her own opinions. Speaking of the author's humor, her mom and grandmother sound hilarious, definitely women I would get on well with.
I found it especially heartwarming how Mangan seems to have inherited her love of reading from her dad; and it was so sweet how her dad brought her home books on a regular basis, thereby encouraging her penchant for the written word.
There were quite a few books with which I'm not familiar, and some childhood classics that I am embarrassed to admit I've never read (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer for one. But one of Mangan's all time favorites is certainly a gem that I have read - The Phantom Tollbooth. And the background on this book's drafting and later publishing was one of the tidbits I really enjoyed learning about.
Thanks to the NI Book Voyage for again book that otherwise never would have crossed my path.
I do love a book where I learn things - and this book was full of unknown (to me) tidbits on various authors and/or the childhood books they read. Lucy Mangan has a terrific sense of humor to boot, so if you read this one, don't miss her footnotes where she is not shy about injecting her own opinions. Speaking of the author's humor, her mom and grandmother sound hilarious, definitely women I would get on well with.
I found it especially heartwarming how Mangan seems to have inherited her love of reading from her dad; and it was so sweet how her dad brought her home books on a regular basis, thereby encouraging her penchant for the written word.
There were quite a few books with which I'm not familiar, and some childhood classics that I am embarrassed to admit I've never read (The Adventures of Tom Sawyer for one. But one of Mangan's all time favorites is certainly a gem that I have read - The Phantom Tollbooth. And the background on this book's drafting and later publishing was one of the tidbits I really enjoyed learning about.
Thanks to the NI Book Voyage for again book that otherwise never would have crossed my path.
October 19, 2019
The cover is even prettier irl.
This is British, so not all the titles I glean will be available in my libraries, but it's a joyful read anyway. (And some of them might be on OpenLibrary.)
"Riccardo Manzotti describes the process of reading and rereading as creating both locks and keys with which to open them; it shows you an area of life you didn't even know was there and, almost simultaneously, starts to give you the tools with which to decipher it."
"Girls write to ask who the little women marry, as if that was the only end and aim of a woman's life. I won't marry Jo to Laurie to please anyone." So notes Alcott in her diary while writing the sequel to her bestseller.
When her father brought home Der Struwwelpeter, little Lucy was speechless with horror. Dad put it on a higher bookshelf, and she articulated only "No - higher. Higher again."
When A Little Pretty Pocket-Book originally came with a red & black ball or pincushion, the intent was for the child to record good and bad behavior by sticking pins in each side, red for good behavior, black for naughtiness.
Ladybird books, John Wesley, Methodism
"I could not hold the sentences in my mind. By the time I got to the end of one, the beginning had vanished like one of those tracing games where you press down with a stylus and then lift the top sheet to erase everything and start again." (See how she offered the example of that kind of a sentence right there?)
"Being a bookworm does not necessarily mean being a good reader."
Mog the Forgetful Cat (and sequels)
Dogger (makes her cry every time she reads it to her son)
Thomas Bewick (masterful woodcuts in early picture-books)
Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? (she enjoys, but she despises Cat in the Hat)
Quentin Blake for Patrick and "the Lester stories."
When the Wind Blows (not for children)
The Owl who was Afraid of the Dark (older edition)
Maggie Gumption
Private - Keep Out!
Life With Lisa
The Family from One End Street (real children in a real city close enough to The Now, as opposed to pastorals set in The Past)
The Wombles (early environmentalism)
Fireweed
In sum, this is a book full of both charm and recommendations. Highly recommended to other bookworms, especially to introverts who want to feel less alone, and to others who want to better understand us.
This is British, so not all the titles I glean will be available in my libraries, but it's a joyful read anyway. (And some of them might be on OpenLibrary.)
"Riccardo Manzotti describes the process of reading and rereading as creating both locks and keys with which to open them; it shows you an area of life you didn't even know was there and, almost simultaneously, starts to give you the tools with which to decipher it."
"Girls write to ask who the little women marry, as if that was the only end and aim of a woman's life. I won't marry Jo to Laurie to please anyone." So notes Alcott in her diary while writing the sequel to her bestseller.
When her father brought home Der Struwwelpeter, little Lucy was speechless with horror. Dad put it on a higher bookshelf, and she articulated only "No - higher. Higher again."
When A Little Pretty Pocket-Book originally came with a red & black ball or pincushion, the intent was for the child to record good and bad behavior by sticking pins in each side, red for good behavior, black for naughtiness.
Ladybird books, John Wesley, Methodism
"I could not hold the sentences in my mind. By the time I got to the end of one, the beginning had vanished like one of those tracing games where you press down with a stylus and then lift the top sheet to erase everything and start again." (See how she offered the example of that kind of a sentence right there?)
"Being a bookworm does not necessarily mean being a good reader."
Mog the Forgetful Cat (and sequels)
Dogger (makes her cry every time she reads it to her son)
Thomas Bewick (masterful woodcuts in early picture-books)
Did I Ever Tell You How Lucky You Are? (she enjoys, but she despises Cat in the Hat)
Quentin Blake for Patrick and "the Lester stories."
When the Wind Blows (not for children)
The Owl who was Afraid of the Dark (older edition)
Maggie Gumption
Private - Keep Out!
Life With Lisa
The Family from One End Street (real children in a real city close enough to The Now, as opposed to pastorals set in The Past)
The Wombles (early environmentalism)
Fireweed
In sum, this is a book full of both charm and recommendations. Highly recommended to other bookworms, especially to introverts who want to feel less alone, and to others who want to better understand us.
April 5, 2023
I liked this book so much that when I was about one-third of the way into the e-book I was reading, I knew I had to have a printed copy. And I immediately ordered one. Then I ordered a second one to give one of my children.
This is the memoir of a bookworm, complete with the author’s favorite books, why they are favorites, and a bit of extra history of the books and their writers, too. And it’s a funny memoir.
Re-read for the 3rd time, this time as audiobook read by the author. Loved it all over again.
This is the memoir of a bookworm, complete with the author’s favorite books, why they are favorites, and a bit of extra history of the books and their writers, too. And it’s a funny memoir.
Re-read for the 3rd time, this time as audiobook read by the author. Loved it all over again.
March 23, 2018
Loved it. As a fellow bookworm it brought back my book blinkered childhood, both in the books discussed and her life. Mangan writes in an engaging, emotive and amusing way.
I have a few years on Mangan and treasured many different titles but so many of my familiars mirrored hers. Bookworming is such an opinionated activity, albeit in an internal way and bound up with living outside my own box. I have never regretted my obsession
I have a few years on Mangan and treasured many different titles but so many of my familiars mirrored hers. Bookworming is such an opinionated activity, albeit in an internal way and bound up with living outside my own box. I have never regretted my obsession
March 3, 2018
How can any bookworm resist this delightful mix of reminders of childhood favourite books and funny self-deprecating humour of a woman whose life has been shaped by them? Not me!
Lucy was a bookworm from the word go, she remembers the familiar The Hungary Caterpillar with his holes with the same affection she recalls Sugarpink Rose, written by Adela Turin and Nella Bosnia and published by a 1970s feminist collective, this book sadly didn’t appear on my bookshelf but I now wish it had. Visits to the library, sitting quietly reading under the benign eyes of various women as her mother ran her gynae clinics all are bought to life, a story of an era as well as a story of the books that Lucy sought out in each destination.
In the introduction the author proclaims of her childhood books:
"They made me who I am."
And I feel the same way. Would my own past be the same if it hadn’t spent hours exploring lives of fantasy and of hard reality, and those particular books that came on the journey to becoming an adult with me, must surely have altered the person I am? Through the book which provides the reader with a light touch to the history of children’s publishing, the author explores some key books – those where she had her own personal light-bulb moments, proving that books can and do expand the mind, even if they are flights of an author’s imagination but as Lucy Mangan tells us:
"You hear a lot about books expanding the mind – less gets said about its occasional usefulness in battering your expectations of life down to manageable proportions. But it really ought to be credited with both. High hopes are the thief of time and contentment."
Yes, not only does this book appeal for the sheer nostalgic value, the author being only a few years younger than me seems to have had a pretty identical pile of books to read as well, but it is the first book this year that has had me laughing out loud at the humour that winds itself around my favourite subject. The other plus of reading this book having been born in same era, is that there is that recognition of a time that will never return. After all I think those of us born in the Seventies were left to our own devices a whole load more than any generation that followed us and these glimpses of that lost time are now even more firmly linked to the books that I read.
As this is a book about books, and even better many of the books that guided me through childhood to emerge into the big wide world I should probably tell you what to expect. The book is structured chronologically so we have the picture books, early readers, school and the slightly longer books with chapters via a pleasant detour through the Puffin Post, onto those classics such as the Railway Children and through to pre-teens (who most definitely had not been invented in the early eighties) to Judy Blume before we launch into books with rude bits in them, followed by the marketing dream Sweet Valley High before easing us into adult fiction.
The books are numerous, the author’s natural delight at most of the books not at all at odds with those natural prejudices which somewhat dictates our choices. There are descriptions of those moments where the passing of a bookworm’s chief enjoyment onto the next generation with mixed results with all those milestones that accompany us through childhood made this an absolute delight to read.
I could honestly spout on about this book for ages, it was a brilliant read and looking to the future, which includes the list of books included within the book will no doubt be incredibly useful
Lucy was a bookworm from the word go, she remembers the familiar The Hungary Caterpillar with his holes with the same affection she recalls Sugarpink Rose, written by Adela Turin and Nella Bosnia and published by a 1970s feminist collective, this book sadly didn’t appear on my bookshelf but I now wish it had. Visits to the library, sitting quietly reading under the benign eyes of various women as her mother ran her gynae clinics all are bought to life, a story of an era as well as a story of the books that Lucy sought out in each destination.
In the introduction the author proclaims of her childhood books:
"They made me who I am."
And I feel the same way. Would my own past be the same if it hadn’t spent hours exploring lives of fantasy and of hard reality, and those particular books that came on the journey to becoming an adult with me, must surely have altered the person I am? Through the book which provides the reader with a light touch to the history of children’s publishing, the author explores some key books – those where she had her own personal light-bulb moments, proving that books can and do expand the mind, even if they are flights of an author’s imagination but as Lucy Mangan tells us:
"You hear a lot about books expanding the mind – less gets said about its occasional usefulness in battering your expectations of life down to manageable proportions. But it really ought to be credited with both. High hopes are the thief of time and contentment."
Yes, not only does this book appeal for the sheer nostalgic value, the author being only a few years younger than me seems to have had a pretty identical pile of books to read as well, but it is the first book this year that has had me laughing out loud at the humour that winds itself around my favourite subject. The other plus of reading this book having been born in same era, is that there is that recognition of a time that will never return. After all I think those of us born in the Seventies were left to our own devices a whole load more than any generation that followed us and these glimpses of that lost time are now even more firmly linked to the books that I read.
As this is a book about books, and even better many of the books that guided me through childhood to emerge into the big wide world I should probably tell you what to expect. The book is structured chronologically so we have the picture books, early readers, school and the slightly longer books with chapters via a pleasant detour through the Puffin Post, onto those classics such as the Railway Children and through to pre-teens (who most definitely had not been invented in the early eighties) to Judy Blume before we launch into books with rude bits in them, followed by the marketing dream Sweet Valley High before easing us into adult fiction.
The books are numerous, the author’s natural delight at most of the books not at all at odds with those natural prejudices which somewhat dictates our choices. There are descriptions of those moments where the passing of a bookworm’s chief enjoyment onto the next generation with mixed results with all those milestones that accompany us through childhood made this an absolute delight to read.
I could honestly spout on about this book for ages, it was a brilliant read and looking to the future, which includes the list of books included within the book will no doubt be incredibly useful
May 29, 2018
Full review now posted!
Children’s fiction, especially children’s classics, will always be incredibly special to me. Books have been foundational for me since I was born. I slept curled around books instead of dolls or teddy bears, and I stared at pages desperately trying to understand how the squiggles on them were words. I memorized the stories my parents read to me, matching the words with the pictures on the pages well enough to convince them that I had already learned to read when I was three, at least until they saw me “reading” a book upside down. By the time I was four, I could read pretty well and whole new worlds were opened for me. I read at school, hiding a book under my desk and hoping that my teacher wouldn’t noticed. (They usually noticed. But since I always did my work first, they feigned ignorance.) I read on the playground, hidden behind a tree. I read in bed and in the bathtub and at the dinner table when I could manage it. I read up trees and under bushes and in closets, by sunlight and lamplight and moonlight.
So when I saw this book’s subtitle, “A Memoir of Childhood Reading,” I instantly related. I could tell just looking at the cover that the author was a woman who had also hoarded books and time in their pages like a dragon hoards gold. We are kindred spirits, this author and I. We might not always share the same exact taste in books, but we have a lot of crossover books that meant the world to both of us. A Wrinkle in Time, Narnia, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Matilda, The BFG, James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Borrowers, The Hobbit, Anne of Green Gables, and Charlotte’s Web are all children’s stories that I have loved which were mentioned in this book. But there were also a lot of books mentioned that I had never even heard of, which of course means I’ll have to track them down.
However, I wouldn’t recommend this book unless you are a passionate bookworm and have been such since shortly after your birth. There were portions that would read very dense to those who don’t have a deep and abiding love for children’s literature, but which I found fascinating. Mangan not only told readers what books had impacted her and why, but how those same books had shaped a genre. She gave a history of children’s fiction in print, including the origin of certain awards like the Newbery and the Caldecott that still hold so much sway in the genre. Like I said, I found this fascinating. But unless you’re incredibly passionate about the children’s fiction genre I’m not sure how much appeal it will hold for you. If you happen to know someone getting a Masters degree in Children’s Literature, this would make an amazing graduation gift!
Children’s fiction, especially children’s classics, will always be incredibly special to me. Books have been foundational for me since I was born. I slept curled around books instead of dolls or teddy bears, and I stared at pages desperately trying to understand how the squiggles on them were words. I memorized the stories my parents read to me, matching the words with the pictures on the pages well enough to convince them that I had already learned to read when I was three, at least until they saw me “reading” a book upside down. By the time I was four, I could read pretty well and whole new worlds were opened for me. I read at school, hiding a book under my desk and hoping that my teacher wouldn’t noticed. (They usually noticed. But since I always did my work first, they feigned ignorance.) I read on the playground, hidden behind a tree. I read in bed and in the bathtub and at the dinner table when I could manage it. I read up trees and under bushes and in closets, by sunlight and lamplight and moonlight.
So when I saw this book’s subtitle, “A Memoir of Childhood Reading,” I instantly related. I could tell just looking at the cover that the author was a woman who had also hoarded books and time in their pages like a dragon hoards gold. We are kindred spirits, this author and I. We might not always share the same exact taste in books, but we have a lot of crossover books that meant the world to both of us. A Wrinkle in Time, Narnia, Mrs. Frisby and the Rats of NIMH, The Phantom Tollbooth, The Secret Garden, A Little Princess, Matilda, The BFG, James and the Giant Peach, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, The Borrowers, The Hobbit, Anne of Green Gables, and Charlotte’s Web are all children’s stories that I have loved which were mentioned in this book. But there were also a lot of books mentioned that I had never even heard of, which of course means I’ll have to track them down.
However, I wouldn’t recommend this book unless you are a passionate bookworm and have been such since shortly after your birth. There were portions that would read very dense to those who don’t have a deep and abiding love for children’s literature, but which I found fascinating. Mangan not only told readers what books had impacted her and why, but how those same books had shaped a genre. She gave a history of children’s fiction in print, including the origin of certain awards like the Newbery and the Caldecott that still hold so much sway in the genre. Like I said, I found this fascinating. But unless you’re incredibly passionate about the children’s fiction genre I’m not sure how much appeal it will hold for you. If you happen to know someone getting a Masters degree in Children’s Literature, this would make an amazing graduation gift!
Displaying 1 - 30 of 773 reviews