I don’t have many memories of my early life. I was so focused on living the day that the first eight years are like a blur, like for most children.

However, there are a few not-so-blurry moments that jump back up clearly. Not surprisingly, some of them are related to books and reading.

The oldest memory that is still very clear is from kindergarten. On the last day of classes before Christmas Break, each student in my class received a book from the city as a present. There were a variety of books, from cowboys to tales, and multiple copies of each. I quickly spotted an illustrated edition of “Contes” (Tales)by Charles Perrault with weird illustrations. That’s the one I elected.

Our teacher decided to distribute the books in alphabetical order. Although I was early on the list, my book of choice quickly became down to only one copy when we reached the name just before mine. That student was absent, so another boy was tasked with choosing a book for him. Guess what! He picked the last copy of the tales!

To my dismay, the last copy of the book I wanted left the pile of possibilities.

Then came my turn. 

When the teacher asked me which book I wanted, I said: “I wanted that one!” I can only imagine the look on my face. It was probably so pitiful! The teacher pondered the situation for a moment, then asked the boy who had selected the tales if it was okay to give it to me and to choose another book for the absent classmate. He replied that it was fine. 

That day, I walked away from the École Octobre with a big, hardcover book of Tales by Charles Perrault, a smile on my face.

Today, the Tales by Charles Perrault proudly stand in my Special Book Library, alongside my Easton Press classics, and the Harper Muse editions of Peter Pan and Frankenstein. This book, which was gifted in the Parisian suburbs on a December afternoon in 1985, travelled through the Atlantic in my luggage. It is now 40 years old, and my memories are still vibrant when I look at it. This book, more than just a collection of stories, it is the symbol of my love for reading, and the illustration of the emotional connections existing between books and their readers.

How about you? What is your earliest book-related memory? Do you have memories attached to certain special books, or do you have books that are connected to particular events of your life? Last, do you keep these special books in specific places, or did you lose them over the years? I’d love to hear your stories, so feel free to share them in the comments below.