Can you remember the first book you could read on your own?

R. Zimm

R. Zimm

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Location
SE Florida
I remembered this the other day in a conversation. The first book I could actually read myself (not just repeating it from memory) was . . .

"Go, Dog, Go" by Dr. Seuss

How about you?
 

I remember learning to read in those Dick and Jane readers.

The first book I remember reading on my own was A Little Golden Book, The Story of Peter Rabbit. (I don't know if it was actually the first book I read on my own). But, I remember problems with it because it was the first book where I came across a hyphenated word that was divided over two lines like this: rab-
bits. I took the book to my mother who explained hyphens and I was fine with the book from then on.

Now that I'm thinking about it, with all the computerized type setting, do hyphenated words even appear in print anymore?
 

The book I remember reading is The Plump Pig, and I remembered liking it very much, don't know how old I was at the time. It made me happy and sad, can't really remember the story or how it ended. Here's something online that mentioned it.

What A Mom Wants: The Plump Pig



From time to time I get bent out of shape because my mother refuses (Books! How boring can you get?) to read my "blob" as she calls it. Hmph. If she had a blog, I'd read it every day. Even if it was all about her QVC obsession or her potholder collection, I'd be right there, leaving sunny comments, posting links from my blog to hers and running up the stats on her "Visitors To My Blog" counter.

Looking on the bright side, sometimes this admittedly ultra-mild version of parental neglect comes in handy. I can write movingly about my rampant alcoholism and recent sex change and...oh wait -- I haven't done any of that. Well, I can drop a few f-bombs now and then and she's none the wiser. And what about now?! I can openly discuss her birthday gift with the world at large and she'll never know. Nyah, nyah!

A few nights ago, Mom and I were on the phone and somehow, we got on the subject of her favorite childhood book, The Plump Pig. This picture book was around the house while I was growing up, but neither of us have seen it in years. With all the moving over the years, we're guessing that it's lost forever.
"Do you think that maybe there's a new copy in a bookstore somewhere?" Mom asked. She was thinking of how her other childhood favorite, The Boxcar Children had had a resurgence of popularity.

"I've only ever heard of The Plump Pig because of you," I said, but while I was talking, my fingers were on the laptop keyboard, flying to Amazon. Bingo! It was there: The Plump Pig by Alf and Helen Evers. Several copies. No images were available, but the descriptions listed copyrights of 1938, 1942, 1944, 1956 and 1960.

"Well, 1938, that's got to be the same book," Mom said. "That's the year I was born, but I think I got my copy in 1942 for my birthday from my grandmother and grandfather. They were big on giving books for birthdays."
I checked out Abebooks and found a description that contained the first line: Although the Plump Pig was the youngest pig on the farm...
"That's IT!" we both screamed.
Since we still had no pictures, we argued about the cover and the plot: "Wasn't the cover green?"
"No, it was white."
"And the pig was there."
"Yes, he was standing in flowers."
"He was eating an apple."
"Wasn't he running with the apple?"
"How did he get from the skinny farmer's place to the fat farmer's place?"
"They weren't farmers -- they were out for a ride and saw the Plump Pig and just had to have him."
"They took him home and let him run around in their yard with the dog and cat."
"No, they made a little garden for him and fed him delicious treats."

Mom sighed. "I'd love to read The Plump Pig again."
"Me too." As far as picture books went, The Plump Pig lacked the interpersonal conflict and drama of my own personal preschool favorite, Nurse Nancy, but it was pretty damn good.

You probably already know how this ends. I pulled out the plastic today and bought a first edition, very good condition of The Plump Pig. How much? Quite a bit more than the 1938 price of twenty-five cents, but you know how it is: It's a book. It's my mom. Check out the map of my psyche and you'll see that I'm at the four-way intersection of Sentiment, Obsession, Nostalgia and Compulsion.
I can't wait to see this book. I can't wait to see my mom's face when she opens her package next month. Happy Birthday, Mom!
Click to expand...
 
The Anarchist's Cookbook. :playful:

No, actually it was a Seuss book as well - probably The Cat In The Hat, although Go, Dog, Go! was an early favorite.
 
The very first book I remember reading was definitely " The Pokey Little Puppy " , and it was one of a whole series of Little Golden Books that my mother had bought to read to me and teach me how to read. This one, with the cutest little spotted puppy, was my very favorite.
After that, I progressed to reading Roy Rogers comic books, and read those until I was old enough to go to school, and then read Dick and Jane books.
 
Remember the Big Little books? Had a bunch of these which I enjoyed. I probably had the first copy of Superman too. Only worth a million or so and it no doubt when to our dump in the woods with several other books and toys that are worth a small fortune today. Superman, Batman ,Blackhawks and all Donald Duck comics were my favorites. Remember Huey, Dewey and Louie? I remember when Mad Magazize came out and charged 25 cents. Wow, a quarter for a comic. :mad:
 
My dad used to give me a dime, some times, to buy a comic book at the Ship's Service (PX to you civilians...) and I remember when my older sister first showed me MAD and I was hooked.
 
mad.r.jpg
 
I remember the " The Pokey Little Puppy " too! Reading is one of the most important life skills and starting early really helps a person throughout their life.
 

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