Bookstores, I Miss You
My parents spoke Galician to me from birth and from that I easily picked up Castilian Spanish. My English came from the world that surrounded me, including Sesame Street and The Electric Company. When I began kindergarten I understood most of what was being said around me but I still couldn't speak it. A few years later a classmate told me he would never forget the first day of kindergarten, when I came up to him and started speaking in Spanish as if he understood. He didn't know what to think. But I quickly fell into the flow of the language and had no problem that year or the next, when I learned how to read. I had always loved books, mostly for their illustrations, but they also frustrated me because I didn't know what the letters were saying. My mother had taught me the alphabet but that was it.
I quickly learned to read and loved it. It got to the point where I would not be conscious of reading words. The pages simply turned into images in my head as my eyes skimmed across them. English quickly became my first language; it even became the language I thought in, replacing the Galician and Spanish. My parents became slightly worried about this and when we came on vacation to Spain when I was nine, they bought me two books in Spanish to read. One was Otra Vez Heidi (Heidi Again) and the other was an old book once used in first grade at the beginning of the '70's, and imbued with Nationalist propaganda which I ignored. They weren't easy for me to read, however easy it was to speak with my parents in Spanish. My head had adjusted to English, which had become so easy, easier than what I had first learned to speak as a baby.
As a teenager and young adult, every trip downtown meant a trip to a bookstore. Even if I didn't buy anything, I would love wandering through the aisles, checking out new titles, reading bits of interesting books, and spending a long time in the mystery section. I loved mystery books and still do. Every book is a mystery waiting to be solved, but a mystery book is doubly so.
When I moved here, I forced myself to read the newspaper and books in Spanish, to acquire fluency, because English books were hard to come by. There was a small bookcase of maybe five shelves with books in English in the largest bookstore nearby and that was it. And the titles were made up mostly of required reading for college majors. I sighed many times when I visited, thinking with nostalgia of the bookstores that encompassed entire buildings back in Boston. As time went on, the bookcase expanded to two, but they were still expensive, and choice was still limited. Then internet appeared and the possibility of buying books direct from the U.S.
I first bought from large bookstores that were online and then from Amazon, through which I could find cheap, second hand books. But the price really wasn't so low, because, with shipping and handling, I was paying around the same as in bookstores here, and that made books still expensive. But then I found, by lucky chance, an online bookstore operating from Britain that had reasonably priced books and didn't charge shipping and handling! So, once more I have been buying books in English, and filling the bookshelves in our study, the bookshelves in the hallway and bedroom, and about five boxes. Aside from all those scattered on different surfaces that haven't found a permanent location in the house. When someone comes into the house, they're always amazed at the quantity of books they see. And then they ask if I've read all those books. And then if I have any books in Spanish. (We do, because my husband and daughter like to read, as well, though my daughter can also read English pretty well.)
We visit bookstores here, and buy books in Spanish, but something is still missing. I still miss wandering among the bookshelves in an English language bookstore, picking up books, opening them at random, and bringing them home with me. Visiting a bookstore is like visiting an old friend who gives you a gift to take home with you. And how much more when your friend speaks your mother tongue.
I quickly learned to read and loved it. It got to the point where I would not be conscious of reading words. The pages simply turned into images in my head as my eyes skimmed across them. English quickly became my first language; it even became the language I thought in, replacing the Galician and Spanish. My parents became slightly worried about this and when we came on vacation to Spain when I was nine, they bought me two books in Spanish to read. One was Otra Vez Heidi (Heidi Again) and the other was an old book once used in first grade at the beginning of the '70's, and imbued with Nationalist propaganda which I ignored. They weren't easy for me to read, however easy it was to speak with my parents in Spanish. My head had adjusted to English, which had become so easy, easier than what I had first learned to speak as a baby.
As a teenager and young adult, every trip downtown meant a trip to a bookstore. Even if I didn't buy anything, I would love wandering through the aisles, checking out new titles, reading bits of interesting books, and spending a long time in the mystery section. I loved mystery books and still do. Every book is a mystery waiting to be solved, but a mystery book is doubly so.
When I moved here, I forced myself to read the newspaper and books in Spanish, to acquire fluency, because English books were hard to come by. There was a small bookcase of maybe five shelves with books in English in the largest bookstore nearby and that was it. And the titles were made up mostly of required reading for college majors. I sighed many times when I visited, thinking with nostalgia of the bookstores that encompassed entire buildings back in Boston. As time went on, the bookcase expanded to two, but they were still expensive, and choice was still limited. Then internet appeared and the possibility of buying books direct from the U.S.
I first bought from large bookstores that were online and then from Amazon, through which I could find cheap, second hand books. But the price really wasn't so low, because, with shipping and handling, I was paying around the same as in bookstores here, and that made books still expensive. But then I found, by lucky chance, an online bookstore operating from Britain that had reasonably priced books and didn't charge shipping and handling! So, once more I have been buying books in English, and filling the bookshelves in our study, the bookshelves in the hallway and bedroom, and about five boxes. Aside from all those scattered on different surfaces that haven't found a permanent location in the house. When someone comes into the house, they're always amazed at the quantity of books they see. And then they ask if I've read all those books. And then if I have any books in Spanish. (We do, because my husband and daughter like to read, as well, though my daughter can also read English pretty well.)
We visit bookstores here, and buy books in Spanish, but something is still missing. I still miss wandering among the bookshelves in an English language bookstore, picking up books, opening them at random, and bringing them home with me. Visiting a bookstore is like visiting an old friend who gives you a gift to take home with you. And how much more when your friend speaks your mother tongue.
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