I consider myself fortunate that a lot of the stuff I read as a child were from my mom's collection. As a kid, she was very particular about wrapping her books in clear cellophane and storing them in areas that were conducive to maintaining their pristine condition. She gave me some valuable tips, actually. Unfortunately, I was never very good at taking them to heart. I once lost about 50 books stored in a low cabinet due to rainwater that flooded my room during a storm. It was disheartening to see my books covered in mildew; their pages damp and stuck together; the covers a blurred riot of color, the actual images indistinguishable. I remember my mom coming in and shaking her head, saddened because some of these books were the very ones she passed on to me.
I'm not so finicky when it comes to my books. I believe they are meant to be enjoyed wholeheartedly: read whether you have a greasy burger on the other hand, or a huge glass of brightly colored juice nearby that could potentially ruin the fragile material that is paper. On land, air, or sea--it really makes no difference to me, so long as I can read.
I am digressing from the point of this blog entry though. Sorry. As I was saying before my rambling interrupted, I was really happy to discover many classics on Fully Booked's shelves today. Though many of them show signs of the times illustration-wise, the stories remain intact and just as amazing as when I first read them.
Here is a real blast from the past: Joel Chandler Harris's The Complete Tales of Uncle Remus.