This post is part of a new sub-series here on the blog all about my reading archive. Not actually a thing, but it also kind of is. An archive can be defined in many ways. Google suggests that it’s a “collection of historical documents or records providing information about a place, institution, or group of people.” In this case I’m referring to a loose collection of items related to one person’s relationship with a beloved pastime.
This is what’s left of my Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew Collection. Note the capital ‘C’ on Collection. That’s because it’s truly that. I Collected these books. Sought them out. Purchased each one and treasured them as they sat in my hands, as my eyes pored over the pages, as I devoured the stories they contained.
I remember a Bobbsey Twins book being the first chapter book I truly read on my own. My dad and I would read together every evening and one night he just couldn’t keep his eyes open. And so like any avid reader and young girl keen to know how the story ended, I took the book back to my bed and read it by myself. As a girl I had no understanding of how my dad could fall asleep like that. As a parent myself now I understand.
By the way, do you remember my birthday books post from 2022? It’s also about the Bobbsey Twins and Nancy Drew books I sought out and consumed during my childhood!
Back to the books.
The interesting thing about this collection is that it’s not necessarily a set of books that I’d highly endorse or strongly recommend, or share with my own children. I don’t think these stories aged as well as we might like to think. A lot of outdated language, really outdated gender roles and assumptions, you name it. So why do I hold this collection so dear?
Maybe the same reason that another similar collection from a more recent time also still sits on my shelf.
These stories, the memories of reading them, of collecting the books, of sharing them with my parents, these are important key memories for me and I can’t just turn that off. Bits and pieces of so many of these books (including those singled out here) stick out in my mind, moments that the twins did something ingenious for four young children left alone or to their own devices, or that Nancy Drew took a wild risk, they have stuck with me and I can’t, and won’t push them away simply because they didn’t age well.
These books are products of another time. Will I ever re-read any of these titles? The way my TBR is looking these days, it’s not likely.
They’re still on my shelf as a beautiful reminder of my childhood, of discovering my love of reading and being read to. Those memories aren’t something I ever want to get rid of. But this begs the question, what do I want to do with these books?
If I take a long-term view to answering this question the answer lies, at least for the moment, in a book I read sometime over the past few years called The Gentle Art of Swedish Death Cleaning by Margareta Magnusson. It’s a short read if you’re at all interested. Something that I’ve held onto from this book, the thing that’s really stuck with me, is the idea that you can hold onto things for you for your entire life. Keep them on a shelf or in a box or under your bed. Whatever you chose. But leave a note with them or wherever or however you’re leaving instructions for whomever cleans up after you’re gone. And mark these books as ‘to go’ – they mean something to you and you can look upon them every day should you wish, but the real importance of them will be lost on others and (since these are not rare books because that’s a different case entirely) and so once you’re gone they can be gently disposed of.
Wow this post took an interesting turn. To summarize that last slightly depressing paragraph I’ll just say this: sometimes the items in our archive mean more to us than to others, and the importance is in the intangible rather than the tangible.
To close it out I must add that since drafting this post I was in a virtual meeting when the first person to join, with whom I usually discuss air fryer recipes (because duh) pressed pause on that line of discussion and said something to the effect of “Are those Nancy Drew and Bobbsey Twin books?”
To which I answered, “OF COURSE!” and we had one of those delightful conversations that new work friends might have when they discover something about one another and add it to the slate of things, besides air fryer recipes, that you’ll talk about next time you bump into each other at the office or in the cloud. And what ensued, while catching up others who joined the meeting gradually, was a VERY brief recap of what I discussed above – and I was reminded how lovely it is to be able to talk about books from our childhood in a mature, respectful and enlightened way. Recognizing them for what they were, what they are and how they’ll live on (or not) in our lives.
Until next time!
RebeccaReads 