a, b, c, d, ebook

I downloaded my first ebook, Agatha Christie's Secret Notebooks. I have wanted to read it since I heard about it, and had saved a spot for it on my Amazon list. And then . . . I packed up about twenty boxes of books. And then . . . a few weeks later I started to unpack them, as well as go through my mom's already quite extensive book collection, trying to make room for mine, praying I could find at least a duplicate or two to cull. I'm not even mentioning my daughter's two bookcases full of classic children's books that she has yet to really dive into, as she learns to read.




So the prospect of buying another book seemed slim. And this is hard for me. Like the rest of my family, I am a bibliophile. When my parents divorced, I made sure that my childhood books (and others I enjoyed from their collections) didn't get lost or tossed in the shuffle of the split. Many years later, when my dad died, I was sure to preserve some of his best and beloved books—basically, anything my brother didn't want, I lugged back to New York, where I was then living,  with me. You don't throw away a book.

I have tried over the years to prune and thin my collection. I had a favorite used book store I used to frequent outside of D.C., where you could bring in books for trade. Of course I usually ended up walking out with quite a few books as well. Books have always been my way to learn—a new language, a current enthusiasm (the Tudors, herbs, mythology). Books allow me to immerse myself in a particular author or series (Jane Austen, Sharon Kay Penman, Brother Cadfael). This favorite book store was a great help in that regard, and I still have stacks of pet interests acquired from there, ready, whenever I am.




Friends from time to time have suggested different ebook readers, but I have always resisted. I did download a free app, Stanza, to my iPhone, but even with its ability to access plenty of the classics, thanks to Project Gutenberg, I just couldn't picture myself late at night reading a book on my iPhone. Email, facebook updates, sure. But not a few chapters of anything. But that has all changed with the iPad. Somewhere in size between a paperback and a magazine, the iPad is the perfect venue for a neophyte e-reader. The free iBooks app came with Winnie the Pooh (savvy Apple). I downloaded a Beatrix Potter read-along book for my daughter. She loves it. But I was still resistant. Until it occurred to me one evening that I didn't have to wait for the Christie book to go paperback, I could download it right away. Instant e-gratification. And it was. First a sample, 38 pages worth, for me to dip my toe in the e-water. And when I decided I had to read more, well—a few clicks and I did.

For those of you who have been doing this for ages, this probably seems silly, my trepidation, even quaint. But books have always been more than just something I read. They are possessions, inheritance, memorabilia. But I am open to new things. And since I just started watching The Pillars of the Earth on cable the other night, another book I have always wanted to read but hadn't gotten around to purchasing yet, it occurred to me . . . that I will be stacking up e-books on my virtual bookshelves, too.

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one more easter bunny

Pooh always liked a little something at eleven o'clock in the morning, and he was very glad to see Rabbit getting out the plates and mugs; and when Rabbit said, "Honey or condensed milk with your bread?" he was so excited that he said, "Both," and then, so as not to seem greedy, he added, "But don't bother about the bread, please."—Winnie the Pooh, A.A. Milne

king john was not a good man

The actual day may have passed, but I'm still on vacation until after the new year and trying to think of ways to prolong the season (that don't include shopping.) One of my favorite childhood poems by A.A. Milne has a Christmas theme. My mom used to read poems to my brother and me at bedtime from When We Were Very Young and Now We Are Six, which is where this delightful poem comes from. I loved these then and now can still recite a few lines from memory. I was probably first acquainted with Pooh here, too.

KING JOHN'S CHRISTMAS

King John was not a good man
He had his little ways.
And sometimes no one spoke to him
For days and days and days.
And men who came across him,
When walking in the town,
Gave him a supercilious stare,
Or passed with noses in the air-
And bad King John stood dumbly there,
Blushing beneath his crown.



King John was not a good man,
And no good friends had he.
He stayed in every afternoon . . .
But no one came to tea.
And, round about December,
The cards upon his shelf
Which wished him lot of Christmas cheer,
And fortune in the coming year,
Were never from his near and dear,
But only from himself.



King John was not a good man,
Yet had his hopes and fears.
They'd given him no present now
For years and years and years.
But every year at Christmas,
While minstrels stood about,
Collecting tribute from the young
For all the songs they might have sung,
He stole away upstairs and hung
A hopeful stocking out.



King John was not a good man,
He lived his life aloof;
Alone he thought a message out
While climbing up the roof.
He wrote it down and propped it
Against the chimney stack:
"TO ALL AND SUNDRY-NEAR AND FAR-
F. CHRISTMAS IN PARTICULAR."
And signed it not "Johannes R."
But very humbly, "Jack."



I want some crackers,
And I want some candy;
I think a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I don't mind oranges, I do like nuts!
And I SHOULD like a pocket-knife
That really cuts.
And, oh! Father Christmas, if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!"



King John was not a good man -
He wrote this message out,
And gat him to his room again,
Descending by the spout.
And all that night he lay there,
Aprey to hopes and fears.
"I think that's him a-coming now."
(Anxiety bedewed his brow.)
"He'll bring one present, anyhow -
The first I've had for years."



"Forget about the crackers,
and forget about the candy;
I'm sure a box of chocolates
Would never come in handy;
I don't like oranges,
I don't want nuts,
And I HAVE got a pocket-knife
That almost cuts.
But, oh! Father Christmas,
if you love me at all,
Bring me a big, red, india-rubber ball!"

King John was not a good man -
Next morning when the sun
Rose up to tell a waiting world
That Christmas had begun,
And people seized their stockings,
And opened them with glee,
And crackers, toys and games appeared,
And lips with sticky sweets were smeared,
King John said grimly:
"As I feared,
Nothing again for me!"

"I did want crackers,
And I did want candy;
I know a box of chocolates
Would come in handy;
I do love oranges,
I did want nuts.
I haven't got a pocket-knife -
Not one that cuts.
And, oh! if Father Christmas had loved me at all,
He would have brought a big, red, india-rubber ball!"

King John stood by the window,
And frowned to see below
The happy bands of boys and girls
All playing in the snow.
A while he stood there watching,
And envying them all...
When through the window big and red
There hurtled by his royal head,
And bounced and fell upon the bed,
An india-rubber ball!"

AND, OH, FATHER CHRISTMAS,
MY BLESSINGS ON YOU FALL
FOR BRINGING HIM
A BIG, RED,
INDIA-RUBBER
BALL!