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From: Kristin Butcher <kristin>
Date: Mon, 20 Jul 2009 15:53:04 -0700
When I discovered, at about age 8 or 9, that people wrote books other than textbooks for children, I was astonished and grateful (when I liked the book) that some adult had wanted to connect with me. I wouldn't have articulated it in that way, or at all, but the feeling was that the writer was sharing something unique and personal, an immersion into a world unknown to me. The writer, I thought, must really have some kind of link to childhood, a link most other adults in my life lacked. I believed that the writer liked me, even though he was probably (I assumed) dead. E.B. White gave me a story filled with overwhelming beauty and love and sadness, a story about things?secrets--that other adults rarely mentioned. He treated me, in a way, as an equal.
Nicely said, Susan.
Kristin Kristin Butcher www.kristinbutcher.com
Received on Mon 20 Jul 2009 05:53:04 PM CDT
Date: Mon, 20 Jul 2009 15:53:04 -0700
When I discovered, at about age 8 or 9, that people wrote books other than textbooks for children, I was astonished and grateful (when I liked the book) that some adult had wanted to connect with me. I wouldn't have articulated it in that way, or at all, but the feeling was that the writer was sharing something unique and personal, an immersion into a world unknown to me. The writer, I thought, must really have some kind of link to childhood, a link most other adults in my life lacked. I believed that the writer liked me, even though he was probably (I assumed) dead. E.B. White gave me a story filled with overwhelming beauty and love and sadness, a story about things?secrets--that other adults rarely mentioned. He treated me, in a way, as an equal.
Nicely said, Susan.
Kristin Kristin Butcher www.kristinbutcher.com
Received on Mon 20 Jul 2009 05:53:04 PM CDT
