I’m liking this one a lot. It’s one of those wonderful books about books. It’s a memoir by someone else but everything feels so familiar to me that I could have written it myself. Karen Swallow Prior, where were you and your Smart Girls clique when I was in eighth grade?
At least I had books. Church stifled me; my friends and their blossoming bodies, and the boys that flocked around them were all leaving me behind; but books made my world feel bigger and made me feel freer. Some of these books took me to places most people would say a young girl shouldn’t go, but my parents never restricted my reading, unlike many parents today who seem to spend a lot of time fretting over what to allow their kids to read or not to read.
It seems to me an entirely negative, not to mention, ineffective strategy to shield children from reality rather than actively expose them to the sort of truth that emerges organically from the give-and-take of weighing and reckoning competing ideas against one another. Discovering truth is a process that occurs over time, more fully with each idea or book that gets added to the equation. Sure, many of the books I read in my youth filled my head with silly notions and downright lies that I mistook for truth, but only until I read something else that exposed the lie for what it was. p 12