Monday I took C to Barnes & Noble with the intent of buying a classic children’s read-aloud chapter book we could snuggle up with each night. I saw The Trumpet of the Swan by E. B. White facing out on the shelves, and remembered loving this story as a child.
I have wonderful memories of being curled up in bed with this particular book. I can remember studying each illustration carefully, marveling over the swan’s long, graceful neck and the stark contrast between its white feathers and black bill.
I know the story is about a boy, a swan, the friendship between them, a trumpet and… yikes. That’s all I remember! Why does seeing the cover of this book made me feel all cozy and happy, but I can’t remember the plot at all?
This has me mulling over how powerful an impact the reading experience can have on a child. Even though I don’t remember the story itself, I vividly recall how reading The Trumpet of the Swan made me feel. I’m looking forward to rediscovering it now.
Are there any books you loved as a child, but as an adult you can’t quite remember the storyline? (I’m hoping I’m not alone in having such a poor memory!)