The Lost Books

Today I am in mourning for some lost books. Here is the story. In 1991 when I left Boston for graduate school in Texas, I packed up all of my beloved books into boxes. I carefully made a list of exactly which books were in which box, and took that with me. I would have liked to take the books with me, but it just didn't make sense - I was moving cross-country in my car, and I barely fit everything in as it was.

Over the next 15 years or so I moved several times - back to Massachusetts, back to Texas, and finally to California. I was always moving from apartment to apartment, and it just never made sense to take on those boxes of books (though of course I was accumulating other books over time). My parents also moved several times during those years, and they and my poor siblings were stuck with the task of moving "Jen's books" from place to place.

Early last year my parents moved out of state, and they re-packaged my books into smaller boxes and shipped them to me. For which effort I was very grateful. However, they told me that a few had been badly water damaged, through inadvertently being left in an unfinished basement, and I said that they should throw those away. No point in paying shipping costs to send books that are too damaged to read. But I didn't ask exactly which books were involved - I didn't want to face it. Boxes of books arrived in California, and I left most of them unopened because I didn't have any space to shelve them, and because I was so busy.

Finally, here I am in a bigger house (still not that "permanent" house I would have though I'd be in by now, but that's another story). I have my lovely new bookshelves, and last night I finally unpacked all of those boxes from Massachusetts, along with my own more recent acquisitions. I sorted through everything, purged a few duplicates, and alphabetized by author. As I got to the end of this process, I had to admit a sad truth. More of my childhood books were missing than I had expected. Much loved, sometimes irreplaceable books.

My lovely old copy of Emily of New Moon? Gone. My Little House books, most of my Madeleine L'Engles and Elizabeth Enrights? Gone. The gorgeous old editions of the Louisa May Alcott books, with gilt text on the covers? Those are gone, too. The copy of Little Women that my dad gave me for some early birthday, inscribed? Nope. The Bobbsey Twins books that were mine, and the ones that were my mother's when she was young, some dozen in total? Only two survived. Also missing: Tuck Everlasting, The House at Pooh Corner, Look Through my Window by Jean Little, Ginnie and the Mystery Doll by Catherine Wolley, my first copy of The Wizard of Oz, eight YA books by Phyllis Whitney, Paddington, Katie John, Miss Osborne the Mop, The Children of the New Forest, and various others, some classic, some obscure, but all loved.

Many important books did make it through. My precious Maida books. The two books that my elementary school librarian, Mrs. Tuttle, gave to me, with lovely notes inside, after I volunteered every morning at the library before school in sixth grade. My Lois Duncans. The Children of Morrow, a book that I loved, and have never been able to find elsewhere. A few of the Noel Streatfeilds made it through, as did most of my Enid Blyton "Five" books and Zilpha Keatley Snyders. My Trixie Beldens seem to all be here ... I don't think I ever had a complete set. There are a handful of books that belonged to my mother, father, or grandmother when they were children. And I did find some miscellaneous favorites like The Trolley Car Family, Nantucket Summer, The Snow Ghosts, a couple of Willy Folk St. John mysteries, and two by Ruth M. Arthur. And, thankfully, all of my yearbooks are here. Perhaps some others will magically turn up - in a mis-labeled box somewhere. But I don't think so.

The fact is I'm a bit of a glass half empty kind of person. I'm having a hard time looking at the books that I do have without mourning the loss of the ones that aren't there. I blame myself, no one else. I should have taken the books back years earlier than I did, even with having to move them around the country. I'm sure that my parents and siblings made a heroic effort to care for the books through various moves. This is on me. I had other things like grad school and starting a company on my mind, and I didn't take the responsibility for my books. I didn't cherish them enough, and now there's a hole inside of me where they used to be.

Even though I hadn't had them with me for 15 years. Even though I have hundreds of other books. Even though many of them can be replaced, probably by copies in better condition (and some I already have purchased newer copies of). I'm still sad today. I always had this knowledge in the back of my mind that they were there. That I didn't need to buy another set of Little House books with the Garth Williams illustrations, because I had one in storage. That those Alcott books would look lovely on the shelves one day. And now, I have to accept that they are truly gone.

The new bookshelves look even more beautiful with books on them, but my feelings about them right now are bittersweet. I am trying to maintain perspective on this. I know that I'm being self-indulgent. I know that there are much bigger problems in the world than the loss of a few books. The important thing is to have the people that I love still available to me. But still... I am mourning my lost books today.

Has this ever happened to you? Have you ever lost or had to throw or give away beloved books from your childhood? I know that Brenda Ferber recently had her diaries stolen, and of course that's worse, because those can't be replaced.

I had to write about this here because I knew that you, my blog readers, would understand. The moral of the story: keep the books that you love close - don't leave them in boxes or basements for longer than you absolutely must. Because if you do, they might not be there when you're ready for them. And their loss will break your heart.

© 2009 by Jennifer Robinson of Jen Robinson's Book Page. All rights reserved.

Comments

[Susan T.]

Hey, Jen. I'm sorry about your books. I give away books a lot, and inevitably want one that I've gotten rid of. I do have a few from childhood, which I love.

I have sort of an opposite problem. My mother has saved all my high-school textbooks, and I despise seeing them every time I visit. Throw those away! I'm always saying. Last time I did sneak one into the garbage.

[Janssen]

Oh, this post breaks my heart. I just received two boxes last summer of my books from my mom and I was overjoyed to have, at last, the original hard cover Little House on the Prairie set that my mom bought at the library when I was a child. I would be devestated if I lost them.

[Lisa Chellman]

Jen, that's so sad! I haven't lost many books over the years, but my mother and I have always mourned her childhood copy of The Princess and Curdie, which her parents discarded once she went to college. Unlike your family, they just didn't know the value of beautiful old books -- the personal value, anyway.

[Becky]

It's not quite the same, but when my sister got married and moved out, she took her (fair) share of childhood books. I had never considered the "ownership" of books. What was mine, what was hers. There was some trading, she'd want to bond with a book with my name in it. I'd be bonded to one of hers. But it was a little hard just the same. She took the L.M. Montgomerys. Not to mention the Little House books. And so many picture books, books like the Best Loved Doll. Of course, the books aren't gone--they're in a good place, a happy place. They're just not with me.

[Megan Germano]

#1- My condolences! I would be so frustrated!
#2- I know this is not a children's book, but similar and somehow still infuriating... When I first moved into this house, which not the first time I did not live at home, but I guess the time my parents decided they had had enough of the junk...
My parents SOLD all our old tapes at a garage sale. I know, I know, tapes? But seriously my sister and I LOVED those things. We made my dad track down the person he sold them to and buy them back. Luckily, they were close at a neighbor's house, but. Come on! Ask specifically first! GRRR.

[Wendy]

Ouch! I sympathize - my mom lost all her Freddy the Pig books (bought with her own money as a child!) and some lovely old Oz's in a basement flood.

Even when you can replace them, even when you're lucky enough to be able to get replica editions, it's just not the same.

[Paige Y.]

Jen,

I feel your pain. After I read your post I went downstairs to look for Ginny and the Mystery Doll but I've evidently given it away at some time -- othewise it would have been yours to have.

I've actually thought about what what books I would try to save if the house was on fire. My Sue Barton nurse books would be first (they were really hard to find), and then Daddy Long-Legs, Dear Enemy, and my Alcott books. It's not just having the books so I can reread them when I get the urge -- it's having the exact copies that I grew up with (and even, like my copy of Lord of the Rings, spilled chocolate milk upon) that matters.

I hope you're able to find some copies of the missing books that look somewhat like your old copies.

[Jen Robinson]

Thanks so much, guys! It does help to know that there are people who understand.

Susan, I agree. I could live without the text books. In fact, some of my schoolbooks are among the missing, but I wasn't bothered by that.

Janssen, I'm glad that you have your hardcover Little House books. That's great. I know that you'll cherish them.

Lisa, I totally get mourning the loss of a particular book even after a long time. I've always been sad because I had this beautiful copy of The Scalawags of Oz, and something like 20 years ago somehow fell on the floor underneath my bed, where it got irreparably water-damaged (my room was in the basement). I can't let go of thinking about it from time to time.

Becky, that dividing up of the books must have been hard. I was lucky that way - my siblings liked different books from me - I don't remember conflict with them over it. Though I was envious as a kid that the Narnia books belonged to my brother - I had to buy my own set as an adult. At least yours are in a happy place, where you can visit them.

Megan, seriously. Tapes? OK, I'm just kidding. You love what you love, and you never want to lose the things that are precious. I actually got rid of most of my tapes on this last move. But I kept a couple with particular sentimental value - things I won't be able to get on CD.

Wendy, I'm sorry to hear about your Mom's books. Those lovely old Oz books are pretty pricy to replace. I think that the lesson I've learned is never to keep books in any basement, anywhere. Not that I have a basement now, so this isn't hard.

Paige, thanks for understanding. Yes, there's something about the exact copies. In a few cases I've replaced a paperback with the same edition, if the old one was in really bad shape. But for hardcovers, I think it has to be the original. For me, what I would take first would be my Maida books (Maida's Little House, etc.), because they are pretty hard to find. Though my newer collection of personally inscribed books would also get my attention in a crisis. Oh, but I don't want to think about that right now.

Anyway, thanks again, all of you, from the bottom of my heart, for making me feel better, or at least not alone. (And Mheir's been great about it, too, don't get me wrong - but he doesn't have quite the same passion for childhood children's books.)

[Anamaria]

Oh, Jen. I don't think mourning your lost books is self-indulgent at all. Those books were a part of your childhood, a part of you. I feel the same way about my childhood books--the ones that I still have (the omnibus edition of the Katy books that I had my elementary school librarian wrap in mylar for me, for example), take me right back to the time when I first read them. My parents mistakenly (they swear) donated all of our picture books to the Goodwill, and now I can't even remember a time when I was read to--my memories begin when I learned to read for myself.

[Little Willow]

Oh no!
I hope that you stumble across these missing titles at random times in used bookstores and little unexpected places. They won't be THE copies, the sentimental pieces, but they will come back to you in new (or gently used!) ways.

[Lady-S]

Oh Jen, that IS heart-breaking. And there isn't even the small consolation of thinking that the books might have gone to somebody who'd love them as you did. Several of mine were apparently given away or loaned and not returned, but nothing too treasured and I've managed to replace them all.

I can only wish amazing yard sale/charity shop finds for you - which I do! And send sympathy, which I also do.

[Jen W.]

Jen, my heart breaks for you! When I was teaching in Japan I brought and brought some wonderful books to read in English while I was there. I sent them home by sea (I was poor, it was cheap) and the box broke open during the trip. I received just the label when I got back to the states. My mom encouraged me to file the papers so I could get the money back, but my heart wasn't in it. The money wasn't the issue. I feel for you and the loss of your books (esp. the Little House ones!). The drop in my stomach I feel when I go to look for an old favorite that I realized my mom got rid of...like Cranberry Thanksgiving....the only copy I can find now is $250! :) Hang in there.

[Becky Levine]

Oh, Jen, your Phyllis Whitney books? You're not being self-indulgent at all. How many hours of love were in those missing books--of course you're grieving them.

You will fill those spaces, though, gradually, sometimes with copies of the books you lost, sometimes with treasures you don't know existed yet. You should budget a certain amount each month for replacements, then have fun browsing used bookstores (You do know about Logos in Santa Cruz, right?) and the online sites. From what you've said about your husband, he'll be totally behind this.

I'm so sorry.

[Jen Robinson]

Thanks, Anamaria, LW, Lady-S, Jen W. and Becky! And Paige, I forgot to say a special thanks to you for looking for your copy of Ginnie and the Mystery Doll. That's really sweet!!

Anamaria, I love that you had your librarian bound your Katy book in mylar - the love of books starts early, doesn't it? I'm sorry about your picture books, though. I have a few of those left - I'm not as attached to them because I don't have the greatest memory, and I can't remember those the way I can the books that I read and re-read.

LW, yes, I'll certainly start keeping an eye out for these books in used bookstores. And I am just starting to get an urge to make a used bookstore round - not quite yet, but before TOO long. Lady-S, thanks for the good vibes in that direction, too. In truth some of the books are already replaced, because I loved them so much that even thinking I had a copy in storage, I still bought another when I came across it. But now I'll have to make that a more serious project.

And Jen! Oh, the loss of that box of books must have been awful. I can completely sympathize. It's not about the money, it's about the attachment. I doubt many of mine were valuable in a financial sense (except maybe those Alcott books), but it's worse to lose the valuable ones because they are harder to replace. I hope you find Cranberry Thanksgiving one day.

Becky, thanks for understanding. The Phyllis Whitey's are a blow. I actually had one of them in hand at a used bookstore recently, and I didn't buy it because I thought I had it already. But the good thing is that it means you can find them out there. I haven't been to Logos... sounds like a field trip might be in order. And of course there are the online sites.

It's funny - I've always preferred to buy old books in person - something about the thrill of the hunt - how fun it is to randomly find one on a shelf somewhere. I collect D.E. Stevenson and Georgette Heyer books, and I always look for them in used bookstores. I hardly ever find them, but once I found a whole shelf of Heyers, and bought them all for $1.50 each. That was a successful day.

Anyway, thanks for making me feel better (or at least for making me feel understood, and not so self-indulgent), all. I'm fortunate to know you all!

[Fuse #8]

My husband has a saying that we always use in these kinds of cases: Three moves = one fire. Part of the reason I hate moving so much.

[rebel]

My parents moved out of my childhood home and across the country the year after I moved out of state. The few kids' books they saved were not necessarily the ones I would have. But at least they understand about books - my dad is a used book dealer, and my mom has some books from her childhood that she hauled from England to New Zealand to the US.

[Jill]

Jen...I'm so sorry to hear that, and unfortunately, I know how you feel. When I went to grad school, I stored three boxes full of all of the novels and anthologies I'd studied in college in my in-laws' garage. I was an English major and had tons of wonderful contemporary and classic books in all genres. My brother in law was searching for something and moved my boxes of books to the garage floor. A big rain flooded the garage and destroyed all of my books. I still feel sad about it when I think about it eight years later.

[sprite]

Oh sweetie. We do so understand.

And you'll never forget the originals, although the pain of their absence will fade over time.

[Colleen]

First - Nantucket Summer! You are the only other person I have ever known who has heard of that book. I loved it - LOVED IT! - when I was young. I must have checked it out a dozen times. What a great book.

After my parents divorced my mother's sister and her two kids moved in with my mom, brother and I for 2 years. When they left for some reason my aunt took a bunch of the books off the shelf that were mine. I'm sure she thought I had outgrown them and they were more appropriate for her younger kids but these books were dear to me as they were from when my family was together - they were books I received from both my parents. (Keeping in mind we didn't have much money when I was young so new books to own were in short supply.)

A couple of years ago while helping my aunt move I find the cabinet where she has saved all my cousins' books (for her grandkids - the cousins are now in their 30s). I find The Adventures of Uncle Wiggily!!!! I told her it was mine, she said she didn't think so, I commenced to relate to her the trip to the mall with my family when my brother and I were allowed to buy one book each at Walden's Books (the only new chain bookstore in the 70s) - she couldn't believe the story was true because I remembered it so clearly so we called my mom and YES!

The book is mine and here with me now!

I learned two lessons from this - always put your name in your books and never let them out of your sight.

I feel for ya kiddo - and I hope you are able to replace each and every lost copy.

Now I'm off to read some Uncle Wiggily to my son with the book my Mommy and Daddy bought me when I was his age :)

[Donalyn Miller]

When I was thirteen, our house burned to the ground. My mother did not understand why I cried and cried over my lost books. Even though I have replaced many of those books over the years (including my Little House books- gee, how many of us loved those?) my childhood book friends are like a missing tooth that I touch with my tongue from time to time.
My husband found an old copy of Daulaire's Norse Mythology for me from an online site to replace the one I still mourned for. I treasure it more than the original because Don knew, he knew what it meant for me to lose my books. Thank goodness, I married a reader.

[Jen Robinson]

Thanks so much for sharing, and for caring, Betsy, Rebel, Jill, Sprite, Colleen, and Donalyn.

Betsy, that saying about moves and fires is distressingly accurate. One day I hope to end up in a place long-term, and then the books will really proliferate.

Rebel, I'm glad that you have parents who understand about books. I love the image of your mother hauling her childhood books from country to country. As for them not keeping the books that you might have kept - this whole pattern of cherishing books is so individual. I'm sure that even a pair of twins would have different preferences on which to keep.

Jill, I'm so sorry to hear about your books. Water is nearly as bad for books as fire, it seems like. Your brother-in-law must have felt terrible.

Sprite, I'm sure that it will fade over time, but, like Donalyn described so perfectly, it's a loss that's just going to be with me going forward, revisited/remembered from time to time.

Donalyn, wow, that fire must have been traumatic. I would certainly have cried over my books at that age (considering that I've come perilously close to crying over a subset of my collection at this age). This "my childhood book friends are like a missing tooth that I touch with my tongue from time to time." is the perfect way to put it, I think. They are childhood friends, and you have to reflect back on their loss once in a while. But I'm glad that you have a husband who understands.

Colleen, I've never heard anyone else talk about that book, either. I'm going to have to re-read it, because although I remember that I loved it, I don't remember much about it. Maybe I'll make it a "books below the radar" when I get myself back up to speed. I love the image of you going to your aunt's house and rescuing one of your lost (taken) books. I'm so glad that you were able to get back Uncle Wiggily, and to read it to your son. (And shame on your aunt for not believing you).

Anyway, thanks again all! It's nice to not be alone in this. I feel for all of your losses, too.

[Jenny]

Jen, I'm so sorry about your lost books. I could feel your sadness by reading your post, and I know how you feel. I kept a box of my childhood books, my childhood diary, and my high school yearbooks in a basement storage room when I lived in an apartment, and promptly forgot about them. When it came time to move, they were gone- someone had stolen my precious box. I still get sad when I think about it- I think I miss the Trixie Beldens and my diary the most. I'm so sorry this happened to you- I do feel your pain.

[Jen Robinson]

Oh, Jenny! What kind of person would steal someone else's childhood books. That's terrible. And your diary - that's irreplaceable. But I hope that you'll run across the Trixie Belden's in your original editions one day. I wish you book karma. And thanks for what you said about being able to feel my sadness by reading the post - I think it's good to notice when words have that kind of power or resonance, and it pleases me, even in the midst of being sad, to have been able to really write that sadness into the post. If that makes any sense... Thanks!

[Alkelda]

Jen, I've lost a box of books before.:( I can only remember one of the books in the box (they went cross country), but sometimes I would look for a book, not find it, and wonder if it was in that box. Currently, there are still boxes of books in my aunt's barn. I wonder how they're doing, and if they'll survive the move again.

[Jen Robinson]

I hope that the books in your aunt's barn survive, Alkelda! It's a tough decision - there's risk in moving them, but there's risk in them staying somewhere in a box where you can't see them, too. I think I would have been better off taking on the effort of moving mine, back 10 years ago, but of course hindsight is 20-20. Hope yours are doing ok where they are.

[Becky]

Oh, how awful, Jen. I'm so sorry.

I haven't lost any, not that I know of. And I'm grateful that my parents, especially my mother, saved all my childhood books.

My daughter's room is in the basement, and when we had a bit of flooding the other year, I actually brought up some of my old children's books -- old favorites such as my hardcover "Caddie Woodlawn", "Little House in the Big Woods", and "Freaky Friday", and the OOP "Golden Name Day" and "Windmill Summer" -- to keep on the main floor. I've also bought my kids secondhand versions of my old favorites so they, and I, don't have to worry about the books. Rather obsessive/compulsive, but it makes me feel better.

There's not any chance the box is just mislaid somewhere, with your parents? Gah...

[Jen Robinson]

Thanks for caring, Becky. I don't think it's obsessive/compulsive of you to back up your favorites - makes perfect sense to me. I have duplicates for some of the authors that I really collect and save, and I figure the extra copies are good backup. And if there's one thing I've learned, it's not to store important books in the basement.

And oh, Becky, I love The Golden Name Day. I can remember exactly where it was in my elementary school library (I have spatial memory for the true favorites). My original copy was lost, if I ever had one, but I picked up a used copy at a library book sale a couple of years ago, so I have that. I don't think there's much chance for the other books - my parents moved to Florida, to a smaller place, and I think they'd know if they had any boxes of my books lying around. But I can always hope...

[Brenda Ferber]

Oh, Jen! That really stinks. I'm so sorry about all those books. I don't have that many books from my childhood, but I love looking at my worn copies of Blubber, Forever, and Beat the Turtle Drum. I'd be so sad to lose them!
You aren't being self indulgent at all. It's natural to feel sad when you lose something important to you. Writing about it is a healthy way to feel the feelings and then let go.

[Jen Robinson]

Thanks, Brenda! I really did think of you, and your recent loss, and even Cara's loss (which I know was technically fictional), in terms of perspective about this one. But I think you're absolutely correct about writing about the loss being a nice form of therapy. Mheir actually suggested it to me (though I was thinking about writing it out anyway). What's nice about the blog, as compared to writing in a journal, is that a) you take the time to write things well (for me anyway), with revisions and such; and b) you get wonderful feedback. Thanks!