Harper Lee tops librarians' must-read list

surprisingly i've read like a dozen of these... 1984 is overrated and there is nothing must read about a day in the life...

I'm surprised about how cheerful librarians appear to be (but not about grandpa_chum.)

I am surprised about the opinion of 1984. I think it is the greatest allegory ever written, the greatest dystopia and one of the best predictions of the future. I probably should say "predictions of the present."

When you consider how young the list trends it puzzles me that Orwell's Animal Farm didn't make the grade. Kingsolver also puzzles. But overall I like this list and am glad to assume that the librarians went 10-2 in grandpa_chum's estimation.

Which version of the Bible?

...and where-in-the-effing-world is Huckleberry Finn?

My parents raised me to exalt books. To this day I do not crack spines, dog-ear or leave open face sown. I have trouble writing in books... even textbooks.

My mother is the member of my family who is almost as emotionally sensitive as I am. One of the most wonderful things that she has ever done is to give me her well worn copy of Winnie the Pooh

It's a 1945 edition which I think was bought used. The pages have become uneven. But perhaps they have always been that way because the text is aligned from on page to the next. But they remain attached to the spine. This is after years as her childhood book and the time that she took to read it to me.

What makes it so special is that she coloured the first two pictures. She once told me that she did it because she loved the characters so much. In my mind I can see her parents' discovery of this, their strong reaction and my mother's shame and embarassment. And still, she gave me her book.

I try to remember to thank her for that every now and then. I swear that I can see the quick hurt as she remembers exactly how she felt years ago. But it is swiftly overtaken by the gratitude that not only do I remember but that I know how important it was. How important it is.

Casey, my mother's roommate and best friend in college, made a Pooh Bear for me before I was born. She stuffed it with her old nylons (which might explain a lot of things.) This means that she must have started planning the gift almost as soon as she learned my mother was pregnant.

Casey was also the person who taught me how to use my parents' stereo when they were out for the afternoon. My parents thought I was too young. I'll never forget her for that.

Pooh Bear's nose has almost been sucked off of his face and he has a couple patches. I first started sewing because of him. I couldn't wait any longer for him to be repaired so I took him out of my mother's mending box and figured out how to stitch. Today the bear still has one patch among several with huge looping stitches.

I love my mom.