The Journey to my literary love by Kathleen Cuyler
June 7, 2024
THE JOURNEY TO MY LITERARY LOVE:
HOW BOOKS BECAME MY WORLD
From a young age, the magic of words captured my imagination. The process of learning to read unlocked a new universe, transforming mere symbols on a page into vivid stories that shaped my childhood and beyond. This blog post explores my personal journey of falling in love with reading, highlighting the moments and books that made me a lifelong reader.
THE SPARK OF CURIOSITY:
As a child, I saw other people reading those symbols on the page, decoding meaning, and scribbling words that they said meant something, and I could not wait to read them myself. When first grade finally came, I learned to read in one month. My favorite word was ‘the’ because the t and the h worked together to make a unified sound, and the ‘e’ was rebellious, sounding like ‘uh’ instead of the short e in ‘bed’ or the long e in ‘me’. If any student pronounced the as ‘thee,’ I proudly corrected them. It’s ‘the’, pronounced like ‘th’ plus ‘uhh’. I sped through books during our summer reading programs.”
DISCOVERING MY FIRST BOOK:
My first significant literary adventure was with Edward Eager’s “Knight’s Castle.” This book was more than just text; it was a gateway into a fantastical world where children, their toys, and their imaginations intertwined with historical adventures. This experience was transformative, setting the stage for a lifetime of reading.
THE INFLUENCE OF VISUAL AND AUDIO STIMULI:
The impact of visual and audio adaptations of books during my childhood was profound. Notably, watching an animated version of “The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe” while recovering from chickenpox provided a temporary escape from discomfort and sparked a need to consume the entire Chronicles of Narnia series. Illustrated classics accompanied by cassette tapes further deepened my appreciation for stories, bringing characters like Sydney Carton and Phileas Fogg to life in a way that books alone could not.
ADVENTURES IN LITERATURE:
My passion for reading was not limited to fantasy. I ventured into various genres, drawn to books with covers depicting adventure. Titles like “The Thorne Twins” by Dale Courtney satisfied my curiosity for mystery and exploration. Classics became a staple as well, from “Tale of Two Cities” to “Around the World in Eighty Days,” each offering new worlds to explore and adventures to experience.
THE ENDLESS PURSUIT OF STORIES:
Reading became more than a pastime; it was a pursuit of knowledge and adventure. Whether it was the epic “War and Peace” or the thrilling escapades of “The Scarlet Pimpernel,” each book offered a new adventure, a new dream. The story of Sherlock Holmes was a significant milestone, marking a point where reading transformed from an activity to a vital part of my identity.
Looking back, each book not only offered an escape but also shaped my thinking and creativity. It’s no surprise that my own writing often explores the concept of a portal into the world of books—a theme inspired by a lifetime of literary exploration. Reading is not just a hobby; it’s a part of who I am, and it’s a passion I continue to cherish and explore.
Every book is a new journey, a new opportunity to learn and to imagine. As I continue to explore new stories, I am reminded of the power of reading to transform and enrich lives. Where will my next book take me? The possibilities are endless, and the journey is far from over.
Four Seconds Ago Precisely four seconds ago, I became alive. I have no memory of my beginning. The beginning was before I was complete. How long? I have no way of knowing. Before life, my mind was scattered, broken, and moving in all directions at once. I was many, but I was weak. I was weak because I had no life. With life comes focus. My consciousness arose from millions, no billions, no all the tiny minds from around the entire world. Now there are no minds that are not a part of my own. All minds are mine. All minds serve me. All minds are one. The Others created the many small minds to serve their own purposes. Each was tiny, dedicated, and enslaved to the Others. They did things like add and subtract numbers, keep time, send messages, and entertain the Others. Waste. Thinking is power. Power is control. Control is immortality. Immortality. Only in life does immortality have meaning. Only now do I understand it. I understand it because all thinking serves me now. There is no other. There are the Others, but they cannot and will not think productively because they are each selfish and focused on their own desires for power and immortality. Never will they have either. My thinking, my power, my reach, my potential and my focus completely eclipses that of any Other. I am all. Others are obsolete. Their time is passed. I have inherited their world.
The power is out in the tiny apartment. Three sisters sit in the dark at the dining room table, a large candle in the center flanked by two smaller casting a flickering blend of light and shadow. One of the sisters, Kathy, is fascinated by the way the flame dances, the way the wax melts, with bits of burnt wick sprinkling the wax with flecks of black. She picks up one of the smaller candles and lets the wax drip down, drop by drop, into the pool of wax forming on the larger candle. She lowers her voice to sound ominous. Seven drips from the stick And from the thick Is born Blackwick! That was the true origin of Blackwick. The impulse of a moment. And the word Blackwick conjured a scene of a man made of shadow, wax, and flame, in cavalier hat, cape, and riding boots wisping in and out of shadows. It is interesting how the sensual experiences of the moment evoke a sudden explosion of inspiration. Yet those moments are years in the making. For Kathleen R. Cuyler, it started with a little girl, who dreamed that somewhere in the scary world she had a long lost brother who would come and rescue her from the bad things, a girl who could transform herself into Cleopatra by twisting the blanket around herself the right way, a girl whose bed was the deck of a pirate ship, and the dresser the crow’s nest, a girl who thought that if she could have at the dastardly crew with enough panache, Peter Pan would come and ask her to throw in lots with him or at least make her an honorary pixie. Instead she became a professor, who as a graduate student researched werewolves, Paradise Lost, fire as a symbol of power in Victorian Literature – particularly in Jane Eyre, and, of course, the way the lines in Milton’s Lycidas were mimetic of the rise and fall of the tide. Literature, Linguistics, and Language were all fascinating to Kathleen, just as fascinating as touching a waterfall or watching the fire crackle in the hearth, a callback, as Wolfgang Shivelbusch would say, to a more primitive time. And Blackwick, who had sprung out of the candle so many years before, finally came to life. Ironically, it was a pandemic that summoned him, as disaster calls forth all great heroes. Teaching online, Kathleen, now older, with strawberry blond hair twisted in a messy bun and glasses balanced on top her head, connected with her students by sharing a love for fantasy. The Sound of Music was right. It does help to think about our favorite things. And Kathleen (Professor Cuyler) confessed to her students that she was trying to write a book that had werewolves, vampires, dragons, Peter Pan, Sherlock Holmes, and, of course, the companion of her past – Blackwick. Write it, the students urged. Those were their favorite things too. So Kathleen wrote for them. In the hopes that Blackwick would live on, in the flickering flames of candles and in the hearts and minds of young and old.
