Whatcha reading?

I have been thinking about the librarian at my sons school this morning. A jollier, happier soul you could never meet. She is smiling all the time, and intuitively knows the right books to recommend to the children. I think she is a witch or at least a fairy. Recently my son and I saw penguins at the St Kilda pier. Nesting amongst the rocks and then diving off them in a display that would rival a Busby Berkley musical routine. So gorgeous and exciting to see them in the wild and being all 'penguiny' in their charm.
The next day my son did not have time to get some new books from the library so the librarian sent a selection down to him. Amongst the books was a story of Alfreda the St Kilda penguin who lived at the pier. I know! Special. When I questioned her knowing, she claimed to not know but merely that the book at seemed like something the Pisces son would like. Bingo!

This librarian reads children books for a living. She loves them, picture books, chapter books, they all matter to her. I think this is why she is so special. Her mind has been kept young and filled with the wonder of life and possibilities. Miracles happen in the books of our youth. We are able to climb trees and visit magical lands. Spiders make webs with words in them. Friend ships are honest and pure and we marry the boy that pulled our red plaits in the schoolyard.

Then suddenly we read books to make us smarter, more educated and in my opinion, less in touch with optimism. I know someone who is obsessed with reading books about Islamic women and their oppression. 'Veil books' she calls them.
Do they serve to make her feel better about her choices in life? Does she feel oppressed and somehow reading these books make her feel what freedom she does have more intently? I don't know, I am just pondering while I type. Maybe she was an Islamic woman in a last life?

I recently watched a movie where the overworked heroine takes a holiday with a stack of books off the New York Times best seller list. She thinks she finally has time to read them, not because she wants to but because she feels she has to. They are at the top of the list so she 'should' read them. In fact, she does not really want to read them they are not of any interest to her, but she does not know herself at all and does not trust her likes and dislikes to go in search for what she does want to read about.

Right now my daughter is in be with her latest book, Each Little Bird That's Sings. What a gorgeous title. I plan on reading it after her. Not because I have to but because I want to. And then I am going to read all my favorite childhood books again.

I want to revisit The Little White Horse and The Would Be Goods. The Children of Green Knowne. I may even crack the Trixie Belden series again. Nancy Drew anyone? I want to read what inspires, makes me laugh and hope.

Really this diatribe is not about what you should read. Who the hell am I to say?
But my gentle suggestion is to consider reading more about what brings us joy either in the choice of book or the subject matter. I honestly think we would then have fewer wrinkles, like the jolly librarian.
And that is what most of us are searching for, a wrinkle free future.