This book, pages yellowed, dog-eared, now laying on my desk, was my first Great Read—the original favorite book.

I waited only until the second sentence of my Emerson graduate application essay to mention it. And on the inside of the cover someone has written in purple pen, “Merry Christmas 1994 from Graham” (and there’s a purple circle around Graham). I don’t know who Graham is anymore, but I suppose I have him to thank for my choice of career path.

In all honesty, my Great Read arrived well after my days of watching Reading Rainbow. (Sorry, LeVar.) I just hadn’t found it yet. You know: “IT.” Books hadn’t yet spoken to me in any real way; and frankly, as a child, I wasn’t really listening. Then I met the pure-hearted, naïve, tortured failure (but ultimately redeemed) Prince Jen—the hero of Lloyd Alexander’s The Remarkable Journey of Prince Jen.

Alexander’s witticisms and slew of magical characters—each with unique quirks, abilities, temperaments, and magical artifacts—served as the colorful flourishes of a painting that was otherwise very dark, painful, and real. The latter was my exciting discovery. As a boy I was just beginning to develop a palette for the hypocrisy and injustice of the world, so easily unnoticed in early childhood. As Jen the prince leaves the confines of the palace in which he is raised, he finds that his beloved kingdom, his loyal subjects, frankly, couldn’t give a damn who he is—realizing his naivety, his greatest weakness, they mislead him, they abuse him, and they strip him of everything.

Alexander, without melodrama, doesn’t skimp on the anger and disillusionment; and in turn I had been granted the remarkable gift of perspective. Jen, stripped of his clothes and all of his possessions, nearly drowns in a river after being abandoned by his “friends”; my angst suddenly seemed slightly less than justified.

And so was born my love of books, through a hero both relatable and fantastic. (Many more questionable but equally relatable characters of fiction would follow.)  The story became mine because I read it of my own volition. I discovered Jen myself; he was not the thing all the other kids had, nor was he the thing my parents made me do against my will (though I would thank my parents for many of those things in later life).  My niece, the youngest speaking person in my life, is three now, and I am jealous of her;  the first gate to the elegant, unchartable jungle of literature lay hidden just beneath a waiting book flap, and she is yet to experience the original awe of its swinging open.

Photo courtesy of Karen Ackles via Flickr Creative Commons license.

Tags:   children's books · Chris · Lloyd Alexander · Reading Rainbow · The Remarkable Journey of Prince Jen1 Comment