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Books: Dandelion Wine by Ray Bradbury
Sep. 16th, 2006 11:14 am-This is a fictionalized account of Bradbury's childhood in Waukegan, Illinois, in the summer of 1928. Predictably, for Bradbury, it is dripping with nostalgia. Indeed, the very title, which refers to bottling dandelion wine in summer so you can better remember it come the winter, is about drippy nostalgia.
-In the past, I've found books like this annoying. (Elizabeth Enright's The Saturdays and The Four-Story Mistake annoy me in the same way, much as I enjoy them.) The reason is that, well, my childhood wasn't like that. Most people's childhoods aren't like that. I suspect Bradbury's childhood wasn't like that. So, to me, it often feels like an awful, mean, seductive, lie.
-But, I'm coming to realize, that's harsh and unfair. There are certainly moments that have that Bradbury glitter. They're not necessarily childhood moments. For example . . .
-One of the cardboard boxes I keep in the cabinets in our dining room is full of random game stuff. Kill Doctor Lucky, in its original envelope, a half-dozen decks of playing cards (some of them featuring X-Men, Looney Tunes, or Fone Bone and friends), Cardboard Heroes, the rules to Wallace, assorted Diceland games not yet folded, etc. A few weeks back, I was trying to sort it out, and pulled out a Ziplock bag which contained the dregs of the boardgames I grew up with (long since fallen to bits). Wooden hotels and houses, red and green, a plastic bit of rope, a metal racecar, a few ordinary black-n-white, six-sided dice.
"Well, really," I said to myself. "A Ziplock? That's not right."
-So I began hunting for the Right Thing to keep these bits in. I browsed through a few antique stores, I checked out the cheap box selection at craft stores. Eventually, I realized what I was looking for: A wooden cigar box. "And where would I be if I was a cigar box? I'd be at a cigar store."
-Like, for example, Leavitt & Pierce, in Harvard Square. Where the nice young lady behind the counter pointed me to the bucket at the feet of the wooden Indian. "Empty cigar boxes, 50 cents for cardboard, 1 dollar for wooden, please put the money in the white tin. One box per customer per day, so everyone can enjoy the experience of having their own cigar box."
(I sweartagawd it said that.)
-Now my random game bits are ( where they belong. )
-So, there are definitely moments when I think Bradbury was onto something.
-In the past, I've found books like this annoying. (Elizabeth Enright's The Saturdays and The Four-Story Mistake annoy me in the same way, much as I enjoy them.) The reason is that, well, my childhood wasn't like that. Most people's childhoods aren't like that. I suspect Bradbury's childhood wasn't like that. So, to me, it often feels like an awful, mean, seductive, lie.
-But, I'm coming to realize, that's harsh and unfair. There are certainly moments that have that Bradbury glitter. They're not necessarily childhood moments. For example . . .
-One of the cardboard boxes I keep in the cabinets in our dining room is full of random game stuff. Kill Doctor Lucky, in its original envelope, a half-dozen decks of playing cards (some of them featuring X-Men, Looney Tunes, or Fone Bone and friends), Cardboard Heroes, the rules to Wallace, assorted Diceland games not yet folded, etc. A few weeks back, I was trying to sort it out, and pulled out a Ziplock bag which contained the dregs of the boardgames I grew up with (long since fallen to bits). Wooden hotels and houses, red and green, a plastic bit of rope, a metal racecar, a few ordinary black-n-white, six-sided dice.
"Well, really," I said to myself. "A Ziplock? That's not right."
-So I began hunting for the Right Thing to keep these bits in. I browsed through a few antique stores, I checked out the cheap box selection at craft stores. Eventually, I realized what I was looking for: A wooden cigar box. "And where would I be if I was a cigar box? I'd be at a cigar store."
-Like, for example, Leavitt & Pierce, in Harvard Square. Where the nice young lady behind the counter pointed me to the bucket at the feet of the wooden Indian. "Empty cigar boxes, 50 cents for cardboard, 1 dollar for wooden, please put the money in the white tin. One box per customer per day, so everyone can enjoy the experience of having their own cigar box."
(I sweartagawd it said that.)
-Now my random game bits are ( where they belong. )
-So, there are definitely moments when I think Bradbury was onto something.
