Good Books
My Road Goes Ever On
Good books have shaped my thinking, clarified confusion, healed hurts, and encouraged me on my life journey. Honest authors have not worked in vain. My earliest book memory is centered in the kitchen where my mom was folding clothes. I sat at the table, a hardback spread open under my hands as I painstakingly sounded out each word. I distinctly remember deep frustration in my struggling efforts and my mom’s seeming indifference. Likely she was thinking about what to make for dinner and figured that I’d learn faster if I worked the words out for myself.
She was right. I moved on to the Bluebirds reading circle in first grade rather quickly, which surprised me. As far as I was concerned, deciphering the words well enough to get the meaning was all that mattered.
I have no memory of anyone reading books to me outside of school. In fifth grade, our classroom was so out of control that several teachers quit before Ms. Stern showed up and managed to wrestle enough quiet time to read aloud each afternoon. I can’t remember the book, but I do remember the quiet. The power of a good story to stem the hordes in their headlong destructive rush amazed me.
My mom loved to go to the library every few weeks, and I would often tag along. I don’t know what she was reading, other than they were thick hardbacks and usually had the word “saga” written somewhere on the cover. A woman who loved a tragic family lineage story! As I grew older, I understood her passion better.
My earliest picks started with comic books and after rereading a dozen favorites multiple times, I moved on to the safe and predictable world of Nancy Drew mysteries. I loved clear descriptions, good friendships, and the companionship of a story that I knew would turn out well.
My childhood world wasn’t turning out so great. My parent’s divorce, mom’s drinking, sibling drug abuse, and a host of destructive episodes taught me the value of a simple story to take me out of painful reality and into a world where fathers loved their daughters, problems were faced without swearing, and solutions were accepted with grace. Nancy Drew books weren’t mere entertainment, they imaged possibilities that I wanted to believe existed somewhere in the world.
All too soon, I moved on to the hard stuff. I got a taste for the classics. Leo Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina, Fyodor Dostoevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice, George Orwell’s Animal Farm, Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre, and a host of others stretched my mind and my imagination. I’m pretty sure I didn’t understand half of what I read, but even half was enough to enlarge my small world.
Since my public school experience had slid over a cliff in sixth grade, I started to attend a private Catholic school, St. Roberts. I did not fit in. When I refused to wear the uniform skirt after one girl tried to hike it in front of the others, I was allowed to wear uniform pants, very thin and very “uncool.” I became set apart. The fact that I didn’t speak to anyone only heightened my strangeness, making me virtually invisible. Going from the top of my class to the bottom, since my educational achievements the previous few years had dropped to near zero, meant that I was a scholastic as well as a social outcast.
I attended extra classes, struggled to catch up to grade-level material, and continued to read every chance I got. My great escape. Books offered me perspective on my life, the world, and the human experience that nothing else could. I understood that hardship, pain, embarrassment, and the raw realities of living in our troubled world, with evil nipping the heels of every good moment, did not belong to me alone. Everyone suffers. Even the people who cause suffering.
At about this same time, my mom started renting rooms to foreign students, so my house was filled with the languages and living embodiment of history brought to the present moment. None of the guys who came to live with us had it easy. Except for one guy who lost his car in a snowstorm and then went out and bought another one. Strange man. Personified charming insensitivity in a way I had hardly imagined possible outside of a book.
Most of the men had endured struggles that put my hardships into a much broader perspective, teaching me that grand stories could be believed. Fairy tales reflected an honest truth. Tolstoy and other brave writers had something important to say to confused humanity.
The juxtaposition of great stories with foreign students striving to better themselves amid my family’s emotional meltdowns taught me to absorb the power of the written word in a way I never previously could. I accepted their medicinal healing without embarrassment. My comprehension has always been limited, my application of knowledge and skills rather weak, but having the heart to carry on when the human experience seemed tragic, I attribute to the grace of God through the mighty works of good writers.
I have had to stop reading a few particularly “gritty” books for the inverse reason. They depressed me and darkened my vision to dismal, hopeless despair. The world has plenty of that. I don’t choose to imbibe it in story form. I have misunderstood authors and had to go back and reconsider their work in light of new understanding, but the litmus test for me centers on the same core that Nancy Drew books offered. Hope. A vision that spoke of possibilities despite challenging realities.
Though many authors may never realize their personal worth, their books speak louder than their words and save the wounded from despair. As Emily Dickinson says in the first line of her poem, “Not in Vain,”
“If I can stop one heart from breaking. I shall not live in vain…”
Thank you, honest authors of good books. Indeed, you have not lived in vain.
A. K. Frailey is the author of 18 books, a teacher for 35 years, and a homeschooling mother of eight.
Make the most of life’s journey.
For novels, short stories, poems, and non-fiction inspirational books, check out
A. K. Frailey’s Amazon Author Page
“Many of the stories are very moving. Some are humorous. And they are all well written.” ~McEvoy
“The vivid descriptions of different clans bring early humanity alive. While part of a series, Neb works well as a standalone” ~Rachel
“The storyline, thrill, and suspense were fascinating. With my job, I usually don’t get time to read, but I couldn’t stay away from this one. Well done, A.K. Frailey.” ~Jill
“A woman faces uncertainty as all technology crashes around her. For weeks, she waits for news of her family, trying her best to survive and keep her home running and ready for their return. A wonderful story, I really enjoyed the characters.” ~Jean S.
For a complete list of books by A. K. Frailey, book trailers, and reviews, check out
A. K. Frailey’s Books Page
For translated versions of A. K. Frailey’s Books, check out
A. K. Frailey’s Translated Books
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