How To Choose a Book to Read Aloud, or, Parley for All Ages

The joy of reading aloud, especially at busy holidays, has been mentioned. (It also features prominently in this our philosophy). Books that possess this capability are more than simply accessible, they are enthralling. For, at heart we are an oral species still--tho' the days of cultural identities passed from mother-to-child or elder-to-group before a fire are, for a large percentage of the world, over, we instinctively relate to the cadences of the human voice.

But how to choose the perfect book?

When reading to a mixed audience, it is good to know what the attention level is. One wouldn't want to be stuck on the B section of Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, just to choose an example at random, if there are squirming children around the table, or squirming businesspeople at a meeting. The trick is to select a book that holds an appeal for everyone, even if it requires a slight alteration of the text. (If little Xanthis is currently obsessed with pirates/vampires/Norsemen/aliens/zombies/Roman Senators/talking animals, perhaps a little tasteful editing is in order). Best of all, a book that has everything.

Jerome K. Jerome is a good place to start, for the last idea mentioned. The classics are really underrated for humour--try Dickens' Our Mutual Friend, or a Jane Austen novel. Vikings may not be period, but with a little dexterity, it may be possible to work them in. The undying Complete Sherlock Holmes is another good place to start.

Another option, rather than subjecting the children to adults' books, is to subject the adults to children's books. Eva Ibbotson and Joan Aiken hold much for the discerning reader, regardless of age.

Just be sure that whatever book you choose contains no 'bathroom humour'. It isn't that funny, really. Really.

Suggestions: good books for reading aloud? Please do submit as comments, or join our discussion here.

Things Lost Are Not Often What They Seem, Or, How I Found Dr. Johnson's Dictionary, Not Where I Thought It Was Hid.

I have found it--and we shall see if the finding augments, or rather detracts, from this Blog. A series on musings (for sometimes I find that finding an antiquated or strange word, and musing upon it, helps to inspire a story) is forthcoming, of which this is the first.

But I must explain.

Not, under the bed was it--not in the eternal abyss of darkness and despair, where souls of library books in torment await their accumulating fine--not in that black hole betwixt my bed's four feet, and the dusty floor--but in a pile of books by my door. Yesterday, searching for something else (and isn't that always the way) I found it, by chance, spilled to the ground as my hand knocked it out of place.

So here it is.

I will start with By-coffeehouse, a happy thought today.



By-coffeehouse. n.s. A coffeehouse in an obscure place.

Phyllis reached out her hand, searching through her laboured breath for an alleyway to dart into, a cubbyhole in which to evade her pursuers. She heard them, hot upon her heels--faster, she turned, not caring where she went, her frenzied lips forming the anguished words: 'O, if only there had been a by-coffeehouse!'

By-the-by, I must give heartfelt thanks to Liam's Pictures from Old Books for the images found here. http://www.fromoldbooks.org