In the opening pages of The Love Children, the last novel by Marilyn French, the narrator describes her warring parents and the atmosphere charged with insult, accusation and recrimination in which she grew up. She goes on,
"... I was grateful for my books. I retreated to them, lying on my bed submerged in the tales of Mary Norton's Borrowers series, about tiny people concealed under the floorboards, or thrilled by Edith Nesbit's The Enchanted Castle, eased by the healing beauties of Rumer Godden. I was especially enthralled by the harmonious family life and salubrious hard work of Laura Ingalls Wilder's families. I read all nine of her Little House books, re-read them, lived them."
It's sad, of course, that a child should have to find in books what she lacks in life, but what power books do have to provide a safe haven of sorts when the real world is uncomfortable or downright painful. Likewise, how they can inspire and delight and shelter anyone, not just those seeking an escape, and when we talk of books as commodities, as items to be bought and sold and 'used' like any other (and comments on yesterday's post rightly brought up the commercial realities and imperatives of the trade), it should be remembered that their use or effect can be far greater than mere entertainment.
