Ahhh … books …
The pleasure of smelling a brand new book.
The joy of being immersed in the story … standing with Scout on the porch hoping Boo Radley would come out, being Anne in Persuasion, reading the note from Frederick, John O’Hara Bourke standing at the Dig Tree … Rhett Butler saying: “Frankly my dear I don’t give a damn …”
Books have always been part of my life, and a search for a lost one went all over Australia, just because my Mum loaned a favourite to my Nana, who loaned it to someone else, and she didn’t get it back.
It is a lovely story, called No Survivors, by Will Henry, and it’s in my bookcase again, courtesy of abebooks.com.
But mum was so angry with Nana, who couldn’t fathom why … words were exchanged, so the search began.
Mum checked every second hand book store as she and Dad travelled Australia to no avail, my brother Jon did the same. I wound up writing the story of the missing book in my Stock and Land column where I was at the time working, and presto, a nice lady from Geelong phoned me to say it was in the Geelong library.
Eureka! I phoned them to ask if I could buy it, and the prissy librarian said no … but said, occasionally they did have book sales of older books.
“Look,” I said, “I am perfectly willing to come down there and steal it, so you might as well sell it to me.”
There was a stunned silence, and then she said it could be bought for five dollars. I quickly phoned the person who had told me where it was and she ran down and bought it … she first read it, her brother then read it, posted it to me – I read it and then sent it to mum … who said – it had the wrong cover … *rolls eyes*.
So that caused the creation of the poem below. My dear friend Shirley Clifford helped with certain passages. So enjoy it.
Ex Libris – and GIVE BACK MY BOOK
I can see you admiring my library
You’re most welcome to stand there and look
But if you want our friendship to last past today
You won’t ask to borrow a book.
“Oh! I’d love to read this one,“ you chortle,
As you pull out the best from the rack
But I know in my heart if you take it
You won’t give the bloody thing back!
As a babe, I had one cousin (Ernie)
Four months younger (a bit of a sook)
When Ernie left after he visited me
So did my little red book.
A Sunday School friend took my bible
I didn’t think that was so odd
And I DID get it back but it wasn’t the same
She’d cut out the pictures of God.
I learned a hard fact in my childhood
Though mum taught me people were nice,
They’d not dream of stealing or lying or crime
But book swiping wasn’t a vice.
“Have you finished with it” I would whisper
Hoping the answer was yes,
But she’d loaned it to Jonathan’s sister
And she thought she’d loaned it to Tess.
Adolescence saw them go much faster
Text books, novels and girls magazines
They descended upon them like locusts
Leaving gaps where my good books had been.
Mills and Boon, filled my teenage pink daydreams
I read fast, but it wasn’t much use,
Books would vanish before I could ever find out
Whether Prue married Nigel or Bruce.
I did hope that when I got married
The problem would finally be tossed
But the family keeps swiping the Melways
While I drive around getting lost.
The vet book, I found in the stable
The cook book was pressing a flower
The phone book propped up a card table
While I searched for the thing for an hour.
When I visit I peek in their bookcase
And it always winds up just the same
I pounce with great glee cause I’m sure I will see
At least 20 books with my name!
Can you picture me there at the finish
Fronting up to the great Pearly Gate
Saint Peter will say in a sweet, saintly way
“Oh, my dear I must ask you to wait.
“Take a seat on this cloud – I won’t keep you
I’ve sent dozens of angels to look
I’m sure your name’s there but I must check it first
And somebody’s borrowed the book!
