#44 Bonding over books
On World Book Day, book fairs, and Kürtőskalács.
We should read to give our souls a chance to luxuriate. – Henry Miller
I remember as a teen going with my dad to book fairs. It used to be an annual tradition that I was preparing for months in advance, getting all hyped up and excited at the prospect of interacting with the “high society.” It was also one of the few occasions I would get some “father-daughter” bonding time.
I didn’t really have a say in terms of logistics. My father was organising the “trip” – a 30-40 min car journey to “the other side” of Bucharest. It was always on a Saturday. Always early.
I should perhaps define what “early” meant back then for me: around nine o’clock.
You may laugh, but it felt outrageous.
I was already up “bright and early” for school – not by choice, of course – so I wanted to claim my lost hours of sleep during weekends. (Little did I know that a few years later I would go into work at 4 am.) But dad wouldn’t give in: he was firm (read: stubborn) and as soon as I would start protesting with my silly “ifs” and “buts”, I would go quiet even quicker. I would either accept his terms or get the bus and go there by myself. Well, it is what it is, I guess.
We would sit in the car in silence for most of the journey listening to Magic FM and thinking to myself about the tracks that had been played over and over again. At some point, I would attempt to break the silence, asking questions about what publishing house we should go to first or whether there is a specific book he is on the lookout for, but the answers would be short and sharp. “We’ll see when we get there,” he would mutter and then again I’ll go quiet, sometimes feeling sad and misunderstood.
Reading and writing, like everything else, improve with practice. And, of course, if there are no young readers and writers, there will shortly be no older ones. Literacy will be dead, and democracy – which many believe goes hand in hand with it – will be dead as well. – Margaret Atwood
The exhibition centre was huge. Normally used as an indoor arena to host concerts and sporting events, seeing it turned into a gigantic library made me slightly uneasy. There were three rings that would indicate the directions and each ring would accommodate dozens of publishers and hundreds of books to explore.
We would start on the ground floor where usually authors would give talks and sign books. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to meet my school teachers there, which meant I would give a favourable impression for my “cultural” extra-curricular activities.
In some years, my father and I would have lunch there, but if we were in a rush, we would stop for a Kürtőskalács, the traditional Hungarian pastry known as chimney cake, right before leaving the book fair. This would be the highlight of my day, alongside the bag full of books, of course. It was impossible to leave empty-handed, after all.
When eating the pastry, we would both laugh at the prospect of getting back home and being welcomed by mum who would almost certainly pull a shocking face the minute she’d see our purchase…
“Don’t tell me you bought books again…we don’t have space for your bloody books in this house!”
As if you go to a book fair to buy Kürtőskalács instead of books. (Or maybe that too.)
Mum never understood my love for books and reading. It’s okay. I never understood her either.
The minute we would be back home from the fair, my dad would go to his room and seem to forget about the fun we had, the books we bought, and the people we met…
It would be at least another six months until the next book fair. No time for sulking. No time for self-pity. So I would too go to my room, pretend nothing happened, pick up a book and start reading.
Until I feared I would lose it, I never loved to read. One does not love breathing. – Harper Lee
With #WorldBookDay this week, I thought I’d offer you a snippet of one of my favourite memories around books. There’s so much more I could’ve written, so much more that’s left unsaid, but I take pride that this newsletter has become a testimony and a celebration of literature, arts and culture, without which we would all be a little bit emptier.
Your turn now! What is your favourite memory when it comes to books and reading? Share one of your moments by replying to this email or leaving a comment.
📚 BONUS – Best #WorldBookDay outfits:
Comedian Ricky Gervais – Not what I’d expected, but I guess it’ll do. 👀
Mae Carol Jemison – the first black woman to travel into space. Excellent choice! You go, girl! 👩🚀
Tom, you’re a rockstar. 👨🎤 🎸
Young lady, you are exquisite! And Catherine Morland, the heroine of Jane Austen’s novel “Northanger Abbe” – pure class! ✨
“Please look after this bear.” ❤️ 🐻
Words of wisdom:
This must be Klara from Kazuo Ishiguro’s “Klara and the Sun.” 🤖 ☀️
I may not be the biggest Richard Osman fan, but this has just made me read the second book in the series.
You can never go wrong with Beatrix Potter’s Peter Rabbit. An absolute classic. 🐰
You might be the *cutest* wizard I’ve seen, Thomas.
Before we say goodbye… 🥺
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yes, yes. I recall that loneliness and loveliness of childhood and books. Getting lost in a book when the world seemed barren of adventure and respect. Being a kid is tough, and being an adult is too, but in an entirely different way.