Readers recall their favorite gifts of books.
One Christmas when I was in my early 20s, a friend gave me a book: "The Prosperity Handbook: A Guide to Personal and Financial Success."
It was such a bizarre present - at least, it was bizarre to me at that age, at that time - that I just stared. "Huh?" I think was my graceless response.
My friend looked at me sternly. Apparently she had told me all about the book a few weeks before, at great length. She had misinterpreted my response - blank smile, well-timed nods - as interest. Whoops.
It's hard to give the right book, isn't it? That novel you loved, that memoir you wept over, might make someone else roll their eyes. Or, if they're like me and extremely rude, it might make them blurt out, "Huh?"
But when we asked you for stories of your most memorable gift of a book - for good or bad - you had mostly good memories to share. Wonderful stories of Depression-era parents scrimping and saving, of thoughtful siblings, of books that opened your lives, set you on the path of reading, sent you trekking off to Sweden or canoeing with the Cree.
Sara Rottunda, St. Paul: My most memorable gift was "Little House in the Big Woods," by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It came from my Great-Aunt Isabel Knutson. I adored her, and to get a "big girl book" of my very own made me feel grown up. She gave me subsequent books in the series, for birthdays and Christmas, and I couldn't wait to get each one. I still have them all and will always treasure them.
Peg Heglund, Granite Falls, Minn.: When our son was 11, I went looking for a book that would entertain him. I found one about another 11-year-old boy - Harry Potter. Rather than have him read it alone, we decided to read it together. From there we read the next four Harry Potter books and then expanded into the Hobbit and the Lord of the Ring series. I cherish those winter nights when we explored the magic that books can provide. The gift I gave to him came back to me, as those are memories I will have forever.
Jessica Keener, Boston: An old boyfriend of mine and I were in a rocky place in our relationship. We were always breaking up and making up. One holiday season he stopped by my apartment to drop off a gift - a hardcover story collection of Grace Paley's "Enormous Changes at the Last Minute." Inside, his inscription read: "I am confused about you: you're a beauty and a bitch. I love you." Hmmm. I loved the book, but did I love that mixed-message inscription? Wasn't sure. I still have the book, but eventually he and I enormously changed and parted ways, at the last minute, for the last time. The title of that book and his inscription still echo inside me.
Brigitte Frase, Minneapolis: The Christmas I was 7, we had just moved from Munich to the village of Eichendorf on the Czech border where my grandparents lived. My father was getting ready to leave for the U.S. to find a job, learn English and figure out whether or not to bring his family there for good.
Christmas Eve the living room door was thrown open to reveal the lit tree and the presents arrayed beneath. I went straight to the book meant for me, "Die Marchen Der Bruder Grimm" ("Grimm's Tales"). It had beautiful, detailed watercolor illustrations. I dove right in, and when I finished it, I started over.
Eichendorf had no library and no bookstore. There were no books in the house except for missals. I'd had to make do with my school reader, full of treacly edifying little stories. Now at last I had a full-blooded book of my own. On subsequent birthdays and Christmases, I received the stories of Hans Christian Andersen, Ludwig Bechstein, the Arabian Nights, Heidi. By the time we left for the U.S. two years later, I had a little library of my own, which still has pride of place on my packed and sagging bookshelves. It was the Brothers Grimm who opened for me the magic portals of the imagination.
Roger Miller, Minneapolis: Last year, my grandfather gave me the book "Canoeing With the Cree" by Eric Sevareid. This book was about a 2,250-mile canoe trip starting in Minneapolis and ending at Hudson Bay. He gave it to me because he knew I was taking a similar canoe trip over the summer. Reading the day-to-day account of their trip inspired me to keep my own daily journal of my adventure to Hudson Bay. Like Sevareid's, my trip was one I will never forget.
Sharon Fortunak, Cottage Grove: I went to a small elementary school where we drew names and exchanged gifts for Christmas. When I was 8, the girl who drew my name gave me "Pictured Geography: El Salvador in Story and Pictures," by Lois Donaldson, pictures by Kurt Wiese.
The book is memorable because it was the first book I ever received for a gift. Later in life, I wondered where her parents had purchased it. As far as I knew, the nearest bookstore was 50 miles away. I still have the yellow hardcover book, in good condition.
P.S. When my kids were young, they woke up to a new book on their pillows on Christmas morning.
Rick Allen, Duluth: Most memorable book gift ever received? The New Directions edition of "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas, illustrated by Ellen Raskin, that I got in high school back in the early "70s from my oldest friend.
Laraine P. Tracy, Bloomington: I was a child of the Depression, when money for books was not in the family budget. I haunted our Bessemer, Mich., library, which was open only once a week. I could not wait for the day when I could own books and never have to return them. One Christmas morning, that day came. My mom surprised me with a copy of the poems of Edgar Allan Poe.
The book was small, with a hard cover in blue with black etchings of floating maidens with long hair. It held the most exciting poems a young romantic girl could ever imagine. I read that book over and over until I knew most of the poems by heart. I renamed my favorite doll Lenore. I shed tears over "Annabelle Lee."
I have shelf after shelf of books I have owned since, but that gift from all those years ago sits on a shelf in my memories still.
Jay D. Peterson, Minneapolis: I was an avid reader as a child, but I never really thought about the future of my reading life. It wasn't until I received a copy of Bill Holm's "Coming Home Crazy: An Alphabet of China Essays" for Christmas in 1997 that I truly fell in love with the act and the art of reading. I've been a book lover through and through ever since.
My favorite gift book recommendation is Eric Sevareid's "Canoeing With the Cree." I can't recall a more pleasurable reading experience than my first time through that book.
Cecil Wade, Foley, Minn: In 1941, 9 years old and one of many children in a short-of-income family, I received two used books for Christmas. One was "The Winston Simplified Dictionary," and the other "The Nuremberg Stove," by Louise de la Ramee. The short novel included many words I could not pronounce or understand, and my Dad told me, "That's what the dictionary is for." The books and his advice have never been forgotten.
William Souder, Stillwater: At Christmas in 1979, my friend Colin Covert - now the film critic of the Star Tribune - gave me Jim Harrison's "Legends of the Fall." It included this inscription: "To Bill, whom I knew before either of us was rich and famous." The title piece in that collection affected me as strongly as anything I had ever read, or have since. I had nothing in common with the characters, apart from the sense of what it means to be young and intensely alive.
I now own a whole shelf full of books by Harrison. In fact, only one is missing. The last time I saw my copy of "Legends of the Fall" it was in my son's college apartment. I hope he liked it as much as I did.
As for that business about becoming rich and famous, well, Colin and I are still working on it.
Nancy Isaacson, Bloomington: It was Christmas Eve morning, and as my mother rushed around getting ready, I got it in my head that I just had to have "The Shirley Temple Treasury." She told me that it was far too late to send a letter to Santa. I threw the biggest tantrum I could muster and ran to my bedroom to mope the rest of the day.
By evening, I had forgotten all about my deplorable behavior. When it was time to pass out the gifts I watched my little pile grow. The first gift was a beautiful doll along with a buggy and crib. Content and happy, I cuddled my new "baby" and hugged Mama.
That's when my brother noticed one more gift under the tree. It was wrapped in newspaper, and written in big bold letters was: "TO THE LITTLE SNOT." My mother said to give it to me. Inside was "The Shirley Temple Treasury." I was thrilled. As for the "little snot" thing, it didn't faze me a bit. Years later, I found out how she had my dad (at that time a cop in Robbinsdale) hit every store in town to see if any of them had this book.
Susan Kissman, New Buffalo, Mich.: I got a Bible from my grandma when I was 9. Not weird, right? Except she gave me the wrong middle name in the inscription. I also won a dictionary for being the top speller in sixth grade. They spelled my last name wrong on the front. I understood irony even then.
Ethna McKiernan, Minneapolis: I still have a hardback copy of "Black Beauty" inscribed "to Ethna on her 9th birthday, with love from her brother Kevin." ...
http://www.startribune.com/entertainment/books/134431158.html
One Christmas when I was in my early 20s, a friend gave me a book: "The Prosperity Handbook: A Guide to Personal and Financial Success."
It was such a bizarre present - at least, it was bizarre to me at that age, at that time - that I just stared. "Huh?" I think was my graceless response.
My friend looked at me sternly. Apparently she had told me all about the book a few weeks before, at great length. She had misinterpreted my response - blank smile, well-timed nods - as interest. Whoops.
It's hard to give the right book, isn't it? That novel you loved, that memoir you wept over, might make someone else roll their eyes. Or, if they're like me and extremely rude, it might make them blurt out, "Huh?"
But when we asked you for stories of your most memorable gift of a book - for good or bad - you had mostly good memories to share. Wonderful stories of Depression-era parents scrimping and saving, of thoughtful siblings, of books that opened your lives, set you on the path of reading, sent you trekking off to Sweden or canoeing with the Cree.
Sara Rottunda, St. Paul: My most memorable gift was "Little House in the Big Woods," by Laura Ingalls Wilder. It came from my Great-Aunt Isabel Knutson. I adored her, and to get a "big girl book" of my very own made me feel grown up. She gave me subsequent books in the series, for birthdays and Christmas, and I couldn't wait to get each one. I still have them all and will always treasure them.
Peg Heglund, Granite Falls, Minn.: When our son was 11, I went looking for a book that would entertain him. I found one about another 11-year-old boy - Harry Potter. Rather than have him read it alone, we decided to read it together. From there we read the next four Harry Potter books and then expanded into the Hobbit and the Lord of the Ring series. I cherish those winter nights when we explored the magic that books can provide. The gift I gave to him came back to me, as those are memories I will have forever.
Jessica Keener, Boston: An old boyfriend of mine and I were in a rocky place in our relationship. We were always breaking up and making up. One holiday season he stopped by my apartment to drop off a gift - a hardcover story collection of Grace Paley's "Enormous Changes at the Last Minute." Inside, his inscription read: "I am confused about you: you're a beauty and a bitch. I love you." Hmmm. I loved the book, but did I love that mixed-message inscription? Wasn't sure. I still have the book, but eventually he and I enormously changed and parted ways, at the last minute, for the last time. The title of that book and his inscription still echo inside me.
Brigitte Frase, Minneapolis: The Christmas I was 7, we had just moved from Munich to the village of Eichendorf on the Czech border where my grandparents lived. My father was getting ready to leave for the U.S. to find a job, learn English and figure out whether or not to bring his family there for good.
Christmas Eve the living room door was thrown open to reveal the lit tree and the presents arrayed beneath. I went straight to the book meant for me, "Die Marchen Der Bruder Grimm" ("Grimm's Tales"). It had beautiful, detailed watercolor illustrations. I dove right in, and when I finished it, I started over.
Eichendorf had no library and no bookstore. There were no books in the house except for missals. I'd had to make do with my school reader, full of treacly edifying little stories. Now at last I had a full-blooded book of my own. On subsequent birthdays and Christmases, I received the stories of Hans Christian Andersen, Ludwig Bechstein, the Arabian Nights, Heidi. By the time we left for the U.S. two years later, I had a little library of my own, which still has pride of place on my packed and sagging bookshelves. It was the Brothers Grimm who opened for me the magic portals of the imagination.
Roger Miller, Minneapolis: Last year, my grandfather gave me the book "Canoeing With the Cree" by Eric Sevareid. This book was about a 2,250-mile canoe trip starting in Minneapolis and ending at Hudson Bay. He gave it to me because he knew I was taking a similar canoe trip over the summer. Reading the day-to-day account of their trip inspired me to keep my own daily journal of my adventure to Hudson Bay. Like Sevareid's, my trip was one I will never forget.
Sharon Fortunak, Cottage Grove: I went to a small elementary school where we drew names and exchanged gifts for Christmas. When I was 8, the girl who drew my name gave me "Pictured Geography: El Salvador in Story and Pictures," by Lois Donaldson, pictures by Kurt Wiese.
The book is memorable because it was the first book I ever received for a gift. Later in life, I wondered where her parents had purchased it. As far as I knew, the nearest bookstore was 50 miles away. I still have the yellow hardcover book, in good condition.
P.S. When my kids were young, they woke up to a new book on their pillows on Christmas morning.
Rick Allen, Duluth: Most memorable book gift ever received? The New Directions edition of "A Child's Christmas in Wales" by Dylan Thomas, illustrated by Ellen Raskin, that I got in high school back in the early "70s from my oldest friend.
Laraine P. Tracy, Bloomington: I was a child of the Depression, when money for books was not in the family budget. I haunted our Bessemer, Mich., library, which was open only once a week. I could not wait for the day when I could own books and never have to return them. One Christmas morning, that day came. My mom surprised me with a copy of the poems of Edgar Allan Poe.
The book was small, with a hard cover in blue with black etchings of floating maidens with long hair. It held the most exciting poems a young romantic girl could ever imagine. I read that book over and over until I knew most of the poems by heart. I renamed my favorite doll Lenore. I shed tears over "Annabelle Lee."
I have shelf after shelf of books I have owned since, but that gift from all those years ago sits on a shelf in my memories still.
Jay D. Peterson, Minneapolis: I was an avid reader as a child, but I never really thought about the future of my reading life. It wasn't until I received a copy of Bill Holm's "Coming Home Crazy: An Alphabet of China Essays" for Christmas in 1997 that I truly fell in love with the act and the art of reading. I've been a book lover through and through ever since.
My favorite gift book recommendation is Eric Sevareid's "Canoeing With the Cree." I can't recall a more pleasurable reading experience than my first time through that book.
Cecil Wade, Foley, Minn: In 1941, 9 years old and one of many children in a short-of-income family, I received two used books for Christmas. One was "The Winston Simplified Dictionary," and the other "The Nuremberg Stove," by Louise de la Ramee. The short novel included many words I could not pronounce or understand, and my Dad told me, "That's what the dictionary is for." The books and his advice have never been forgotten.
William Souder, Stillwater: At Christmas in 1979, my friend Colin Covert - now the film critic of the Star Tribune - gave me Jim Harrison's "Legends of the Fall." It included this inscription: "To Bill, whom I knew before either of us was rich and famous." The title piece in that collection affected me as strongly as anything I had ever read, or have since. I had nothing in common with the characters, apart from the sense of what it means to be young and intensely alive.
I now own a whole shelf full of books by Harrison. In fact, only one is missing. The last time I saw my copy of "Legends of the Fall" it was in my son's college apartment. I hope he liked it as much as I did.
As for that business about becoming rich and famous, well, Colin and I are still working on it.
Nancy Isaacson, Bloomington: It was Christmas Eve morning, and as my mother rushed around getting ready, I got it in my head that I just had to have "The Shirley Temple Treasury." She told me that it was far too late to send a letter to Santa. I threw the biggest tantrum I could muster and ran to my bedroom to mope the rest of the day.
By evening, I had forgotten all about my deplorable behavior. When it was time to pass out the gifts I watched my little pile grow. The first gift was a beautiful doll along with a buggy and crib. Content and happy, I cuddled my new "baby" and hugged Mama.
That's when my brother noticed one more gift under the tree. It was wrapped in newspaper, and written in big bold letters was: "TO THE LITTLE SNOT." My mother said to give it to me. Inside was "The Shirley Temple Treasury." I was thrilled. As for the "little snot" thing, it didn't faze me a bit. Years later, I found out how she had my dad (at that time a cop in Robbinsdale) hit every store in town to see if any of them had this book.
Susan Kissman, New Buffalo, Mich.: I got a Bible from my grandma when I was 9. Not weird, right? Except she gave me the wrong middle name in the inscription. I also won a dictionary for being the top speller in sixth grade. They spelled my last name wrong on the front. I understood irony even then.
Ethna McKiernan, Minneapolis: I still have a hardback copy of "Black Beauty" inscribed "to Ethna on her 9th birthday, with love from her brother Kevin." ...
http://www.startribune.com/entertainment/books/134431158.html
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