Not the Way Momma Did It

When my oldest son Travis was about two or three years old, his favorite book was Richard Scarry’s Best Word Book Ever, basically a dictionary with lots of wonderful pictures. He’d go get the book, pull me to a chair, then sit in my lap and flip through it, pointing out which definition I was to read next. Over and over again. Day after day. He’d laugh delightedly; I longed desperately for narrative, even the Little Golden Book kind.

Over time the game morphed. Now, I was supposed to flip through the book and point to a picture, and since he’d memorized all the words and their definitions, he would “read” them to me, word for word, in any order.

Gradually we moved on from Richard Scarry and picture books, and as the kids got older I read them books like Charlotte’s Web, Ramona the Pest, and Amos Fortune, Free Man. We read Bridge to Terabithia, The Witch of Blackbird Pond, and Sounder. They loved Shel Silverstein’s Where the Sidewalk Ends and all of Gary Paulsen’s Hatchet series. And of course I read them the Chronicles of Narnia. And yes, I even did the voices.

Partial payback for all that time spent reading aloud came a few weeks ago. Travis told me he’d finally gotten to see the new film version of Prince Caspian, but said he’d had trouble getting into the movie.

Why? "The Reepicheep voice was all wrong," he told me. "It didn’t sound at all like the way you did it."

In Praise of Audiobooks

Before anyone gets too upset, let me start with a disclaimer: In no way do I believe that audiobooks (or e-books, for that matter) will ever take the place of a real, hold-it-in-your-hands book. Do I hear an "amen"?

That being said, I think audiobooks are great. Most of my university education was acquired as a commuting, non-traditional student. As an undergrad, I drove two-and-a-half hours one-way from eastern Arkansas to Delta State University in Cleveland, MS, some semesters five days a week. I’ve spent the last two years driving, at least once a week, from central Arkansas to Ole Miss in Oxford, a three-and-a-half hour trip, one-way.

During those years, it took all the time I wasn’t driving, or working, or doing all the things necessary to keep a household from total ruin, to get the books read and the papers written for the classes I was taking, which left no time for recreational reading.

Enter audiobooks. Every week I’d pick out the latest novel from the Times Best-Seller List or something I’d been meaning to read for a while but had never gotten around to. Usually I chose detective fiction, but sometimes I picked the latest non-fiction work, sometimes a memoir or biography, occasionally even a collection of short stories.

This kept me current and connected when I was often otherwise buried in centuries past. It also made the long drive pass more quickly. Occasionally, though, it caused a weird mental disconnect. Once, I was “reading” a novel about a woman trapped in a mountain-top cabin during an ice storm with a supposed murderer. As I drove past a bank sign, I noticed that it was ninety-seven degrees, and for a moment I couldn’t figure out how it could sleet when the temperature was that high. Those of you who are true-born readers will understand. Others will simply think I’m crazy.

I know that some students who struggle with reading, or who are aural learners, substitute audiobooks for the books they are assigned to read. They think it’s easier, and it may be for them, but I’m not sure it makes them a better reader. A better solution, I believe, is to listen to the book as they read. This can be especially helpful with Shakespeare’s plays, for instance, when students often struggle with unfamiliar language.

Books and audiobooks. There’s room in my world for both.

Nature vs. Nurture, or: Piles of Books Do Not a Reader Make

I’ve always been a reader. If you told me to choose five words to describe myself, “reader” would probably be at the top of my list. It is so much a part of who I am that I don’t think I’d be me if I couldn’t read.

So, of course, I wanted my children to be little readers also. I read up on it (of course), and all the experts suggested that I read to my kids, model reading for my kids, provide them with access to books, have plenty of books and magazines around the house, talk to them about books, take them to story hour at the library, let the printed word be a natural part of our lives. I did all these things religiously and with much fervor.

My score? 1-1-1

My oldest is a reader, though I don’t think he reads as avidly as I do; I don’t think he needs it. My middle child occasionally reads a book, but often finds it hard to make it through to the end before the library sends her a bill for overdue fines equal to the price of the book. My youngest would rather be slathered with honey and thrown on an anthill than have to read a book of any length or description.

Well, they can’t say I didn’t try.

And experts don’t always have all the answers.