It got me thinking about a few things, so my Kirkus column today is a response to what she wrote. It’s here.
Until tomorrow …
One comment to “Goodnight What Again?”
A spot-on Kirkus post, Jules. Growing up, my sister and I spent many hours with books of all kinds, though our parents didn’t make a habit of reading aloud to us at bedtime. I remember my mother telling stories and singing songs (sometimes in French) from memory. Most of the hundreds of books I read before junior high came from school libraries or book fairs.
Reading with my daughter — an almost-8-year-old who carries a book everywhere she goes — is still one of the greatest joys of my existence. I say “reading with” rather than “reading to” — and it’s an important distinction. My wife and I have taken a playful approach to reading since Marin was a baby.
Aside from a short span when Marin wanted the same book read in the exact same way nightly (and those times when you’re just genuinely bone-tired), it’s rarely an exercise in recitation but rather an opportunity for creative collaboration.
We take our cues from each book individually: we do the voices together; we ask silly questions; we turn the whole book upside-down; we take turns reading; we skip uninteresting parts; we make up alternative endings; we have fun, when we can, with the experience. It’s a privilege, not a duty, as all good reading always is.