Special Book Darlings

It should be noted that most of the things I post start out with me talking to someone else, and suddenly realizing that I just spouted a blog post at them. Recently, I was talking to a friend, and started to point out particular books of mine, that have some particular sentimental value. And by particular books, I mean the physical copy that I own, not just the text of the book. If you have read some of my other posts, you will be VERY surprised to hear that no copy of LOTR that I own, has any particular sentimental value (aside from being LOTR). Fear not, I am still me, there is a Tolkien book on this list. 
I apologize for the lack of pictures. 
So without further ado, some of my treasures and why they are special. 


Let us start at the very beginning (a very good place to start) with the first book I ever actually owned (not counting some weird picture book someone gave me that I don't have any more). It is a collection of Louisa May Alcott's writing that includes Little Women, Little Men, and a bunch of short stories. Though well read, and missing the dust jacket, this book remains in excellent condition. It also happens to be the first book on my shelf, as a result of Louisa's last name. 


Continuing through the shelf, we arrive at Agatha Christie's Death Comes as the End. I think I have mentioned this before, but this is the book that made me want to go write. It is not particularly good, especially in comparison to some of Christie's other works, but for some reason it filled me with a rather overwhelming desire to write a book. I finished it, got a notebook, and wrote the word "Reniseb" in it. The rest is history. I think I was 11 or 12 at the time. Fun fact, I didn't actually own this book when I first read it. But later, it was put with a pile that was being cast out of the house, and I asked if I could keep it. MINE. MY OWN. MY PRECIOUS. 


Next up is a copy of Treasure Island by Robert Louis Stevenson. My dad used to read aloud to myself and my siblings from this exact copy, when I was quite little. One of my clearest memories of our old house (we moved to my current abode in 2006) is sitting in the living room listening to Treasure Island. For some reason, us kidlets really liked that particular book, as I remember it being read aloud many times. It was also on it's way out to a far away land of books that other people were allowed to touch. Naturally, I rescued it, and it now sits on my bookshelf, safe and sound. The first page informs me that it was a Christmas gift to someone name Ethan in 1994, and later sold for $1.50. Despite that beautiful low price, it is actually a really nice edition, and in excellent condition. 


Now we come to something by Tolkien, an inevitable result for any post of mine relating to books (or anything else, really). This is a hardcover copy of The Hobbit, illustrated by Alan Lee. Our family required that LOTR be read before the movie was seen, but did not require that I read The Hobbit, before The Lord of the Rings. I confess, it was not love of LOTR that caused me to pick up the Hobbit from the coffee-table in the living room, all those years ago. I picked it up because it was pretty, and looked interesting. Like a lot of my books, it wasn't mine, but I stole it away. It was sort of a family owned book, that wasn't treated with the proper amount of care (in my opinion), so I spirited it up to my room, and proceeded to read it on repeat for a good long while. 

And now, for a couple of others that don't have much of a story behind them, but are special anyway:

Cheaper by the Dozen: gift from a dear friend who thought I ought to read it, since I want at least a dozen children. 

Pharaoh: Because it's a really good book, by Eloise Jarvis McGraw, set in ancient egypt. It's a first edition (there was only ever the one), and I loves it very much. I would put Mara on here, but the copy that I first read isn't in my bookshelf, and this post is about my actual possessions, not just books that are important to me. I also paid too much for Pharaoh, having never read, because I trusted McGraw. I was not disappointed. Worth every penny. (It currently sells for twice what I paid, so I feel better about my purchase. Not that I would ever sell it.)

Mr. Popper's Penguins: It may be childish, but I am very fond of my copy of this (yes, I stole it from an out-going pile of books, hush) I adored this book when I was younger. It was beat up when I first read it, and it is basically falling apart now, but I wuv it. It was also among the first real books I read on my own. When I say "real books" it means that I am not including those weird things specially put together for kids learning how to read. Those are unpleasant and I hate them. I do not care that Bob ran. I can see that, from the picture. Find me something more interesting. (As a young child, I was fond of crawling across pipes, climbing trees, jumping off of top bunks, and cutting all my hair off on a whim. I didn't have patience for reading unless there was something interesting happening.) I maintain that this book about Penguins is still an amusing little read, and I shall definitely be passing it on to my own children. 
 The Author

Come chat about The Silmarillion with me: 


  1. My copy of the Hobbit is also sentimental, being old and already worn out, without a cover, when I started reading it. I think at one point it belonged to my oldest sister, and, like yours, was a "family copy" that I out-right stole when I got into Tolkien (though I don't remember the actual taking of it; for as long as I can remember there being a copy of the Hobbit in the house, I have considered it mine, haha).

    1. well, brains are known for blocking traumatic thing, like not owning a copy of the Hobbit.