One of the most significant events of my first week at Grammar school was discovering the library. It may be hard for some people to appreciate how difficult it was for a child with a very advanced reading age to obtain challenging reading material in 1960s rural West Sussex.
My primary school had a very small and rather predictable selection of books but I’d already read all the so called Children’s Classics by the time I was ten. A six volume set had been a Christmas present when I was nine; it was one of my most prized possessions.
There was a mobile library that came to Lurgashall every week but they carried a very limited selection and catered mostly for adults with a preponderance of authors such as Agatha Christie; the sort of thing that held no interest for me. I did find a few useful reference books which I absorbed just for the sake of knowing new things.
The library at school was a completely new adventure and my first discovery was the hitherto unknown world of Science Fiction. Completely at random I selected “Childhood’s End” by Arthur C. Clarke and an obsession was born.
I read the book in one session; at great personal risk because it meant my reading light was still on at well past eleven o’clock at night. My perfidy went undiscovered and I spent some time afterwards pondering the new world, or should I say universe that had opened up for me.
The book went back the next day and, attracted by the bright yellow cover I selected a Gollanz anthology entitled “New Writings In SF”; I think it was the 1959 edition. That book introduced me to such authors as Robert Silverberg, Clifford D. Simak and Ray Bradbury amongst many others.
Ultimately I discovered the incredible work of Philip K. Dick and immediately related to the Cold War intensity of his plots. I still consider Dick to be one of the giants of his generation. I also pursued my new found love for the works of Arthur C. Clarke and read everything of his I could find.
Mum wasn’t too happy about my choices as much SF was considered subversive but with my usual insouciance I continued to read as much as I could; often carelessly leaving books in the living room or on my bed knowing that they’d be read.
In my more introspective moments, especially after bad Saturdays when I’d been waylaid on my way to perform a weekly chore, I used to sit by my bedroom window with one curtain open so that I could stare up into the night sky.
How wonderful it would be, I used to think to travel to those unthinkably distant points of light; just me with no older boy abusing me and no boys of my own age calling me names or worse. I could travel forever and never get tired of my own company.
Love
I used to be the same with books. I don’t know If I shared this story with you before, but to get the books I enjoyed but could not afford, I would steal them from stores like Easons and Waterstones. Once I was done reading them I would bring them back.
Ugh at the Agatha Christie!
That is so cool, I’d never have had the balls to steal anything even if our village had boasted such a sophisticated thing as a book shop. I love the idea of sneaking them back in.
Oh yes! Escapism. I don’t know about staring up into the night sky but Pete still loves a good science fiction story or film. In his case it’s to escape from the oh too real world of science in a way!
Can’t blame you at all for this one!
It’s still my escapism from the oh too real world full stop. SF is still my favourite form of reading, film and TV.