Books

My father only ever brought me one book. He was not a reader himself, except the newspaper and then mainly the football reports and perhaps the cricket. He had come home from work  and thrust a paper bag in my direction mumbling some words about, 'the man in the shop said you would like this.'

I was ten and already an avid reader; Mum had read the 'Famous Five' to me and then I had embarked on the Narnia books. The first two were missing from the school Library so I had started with 'Prince Caspian', then read, 'The Magician's Nephew' the first book and essentially a creation myth.

I loved how Queen Jadis escaped to London and old Uncle Andrew fell in love with her, how Aslan sang Narnia into being! Heavy stuff for my young imagination, I have not read it for forty years and it remains intact within my memory. ' The Last Battle' had ended and now there would be no more new visits to Narnia, a realisation that hit me like a punch to the heart. I didn't even mind the Christian Allegory!

So the ten year old me was not particularly confident about the contents of the paper bag that my father was thrusting in my direction. What was inside? The possibilities proliferated in my mind and second guessing began in earnest - knowing my fathers proclivity toward all things sporting I surmised that it could be Geoffrey Boycott's biography (I knew where that the wardrobe led to Narnia but was unsure where Geoffrey's corridor of uncertainty went!); it could be Don Revie's footie manual (I supported Leeds in those days - mainly because they were winning the league); Dad's other interest was gardening, so perhaps a book by Percy Thrower!

It did not bode well and I wondered what had persuaded him to enter the small independent bookshop (remember those) in the town where he worked? I had never seen him ever enter a bookshop, he hated shopping of any kind. By this point he was looking a little exasperated as I was still staring at the paper bag and not reacting, such was my surprise! In fact thinking back now not only was this the first book he had ever brought, it was also the first and indeed only present he ever brought me (Mum sorted out birthdays and Christmas). I am talking about a man who brought my mother the same Calendar for Christmas for forty years!

My homily narrative of father/son bonding has been deliberately slowed down for dramatic effect for your delight and I really want you to see me there aged ten frozen in time, my hand stretched out my father leaning toward me with the paper bag and a book nestled inside. The reason being that this was an important moment for me, a moment of meaning!

If this was a film it would be slowed down, my hand receives the paper bag  and Dad says, 'The man in the shop says this is the next big thing, it's just come out in paper back, it's similar to those books you like.' And with that he turned and walked away to see what mum was cooking in the Kitchen.

Pulling the book from the bag I saw a picture of a dragon on the front and the title, 'The Hobbit'.

So buy someone a book this week, a book you love - it may just change their life!