Carrie Cox’s Corner

Today I am thankful for books. Spanish books, history books, electronic books, dusty old ancient sweet smelling books, and even new books with the exciting smell of ink and glue that envelopes you at first open.

I started reading novels around 7 or 8. It seemed the natural thing to do, all of my family did it. I don’t remember the first book, but I remember reading in my living room and my brother Nathan bringing me a Chronicles of Narnia book and telling me to read it. It looked a little big, but he was excited to take me along on the journey, and I was excited that he wanted to share anything with me.

“Okay,” I said, and I jumped right in.

I remember struggling through it, but was determined to forge ahead because my big brother gave it to me, and I didn’t want him to think I couldn’t do it. I read it all to myself quietly, and words that I couldn’t pronounce-no problem-they were whatever my brain said they were to be. Aslan was some form of Allan, I for sure couldn’t pronounce the last name of Peter, Susan, Edmund, and Lucy, but that didn’t stop my journey inside a new world.

I was hooked, even though I was struggling, I was hooked.

My dad saw me reading, and decided he would read it to me. I was pretty surprised about Aslan’s real name. But Aslan isn’t even a real name I remember thinking. It has to be Allan.

I remember being in a rough cabin at Camp Waterbrook. Well, it was called a “hotel room” because it was the only building on the property that had private rooms with bathrooms, but the word hotel was a stretch. The floors were made from concrete and the walls of particle boards so that the whole room smelled a lot like a sawmill. It was rough, but we loved that place. I distinctly remember lying in bed with my parents in the bed beside me in the evening and my dad reading me a chapter or two of Narnia when it was night time outside. He had a special voice for reading, it sounded like his praying voice- smooth and sweet, not deep really, but rich.

With Dad showing me that he cared enough about my story that he wanted to share it with me, taking the time out to do so, staying up later when he was tired, the sound of his voice on the ancient names… Wow. I felt so loved. I wanted to read all the books!

I found out later that for a time Dad taught elementary school for a year or two when they lived in East Tennessee and that he would end each day reading one chapter of Narnia with the kids begging for me.

If you’ve never read something and had your audience beg for more, you’ve never lived. It’s such an exciting, even powerful feeling. “Come back tomorrow, folks. That’s all for today.”

“No…..Please…One more….What happens?” are the gasps and cries resonating from the little crowd.

What’s even more exhilarating is when you hear this from teenagers. That’s when you know you know you’ve crossed into a new fantasy world, when this happens. It could never happen on earth, lol.

This year my junior high and high school students are reading the books in The Chronicles of Narnia. I was surprised by their answer when I asked how many had read them, how many had even read one. “I’ve seen the movie” they would respond.

Scoff! “I’m sorry but that’s not even comparable. We will read them this year.” I dug around and found all of our copies in the school library, the neglected high school book shelf, and searched in my home. I had already given out all of my personal copies of The Lion The Witch and the Wardrobe, so ebay was my next stop. I scraped up enough for us all to read the first on at the same time. I read the book along with them on my own and we often read together in class. There are some chapters in that book that must be read aloud. Nothing else is acceptable.

Man every time I read these books again as I grow older, the value of the story and the art of the author is more evidence. I have never been as moved by the symbolic scene of Aslan sacrificing his life for his friends than when I read it to my small class when we went outside at the picnic table to read one cool morning. Speaking the words with as much feeling and intonation and emotion that I could generate brought such a depth to the story.

Spoken words are much more powerful than silent ones.

“Yes, Ms. Carrie, please read it. I can read it myself, but it’s just so much better when you read it,” one student said. This might just be one of the best compliments I’ve received at school this year.

So we read the first book, and the best part is that my daughter Claira is in that class. She read it, and she shared how much she loved it. I would see her reading ahead at home. “Can I read further?”

“Of course,” I say. Who am I to try and stop this new growing appetite? I smile when I see her reading light on at night, the books still on her bed after she’s fallen asleep. This family tradition lives on.

I say thanks to my brother, Nathan Hall, for giving me my first book recommendation, for opening the door and welcoming me into a whole new world, for not excluding me even though I was small and my comprehension wasn’t much bigger.

Today I’m giving you a book recommendation. Go read the first (published) book of the series, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe by C. S. Lewis. It’s a perfect read for the winter season, for Christmas. Even if you’ve read it before, read it again. Read it to a child. Give it to a child. Who knows? Maybe you will start your own family tradition.