When my parents asked my brothers and me whether we wanted a puppy or a new baby, I chose the baby. Janet came along, and so did the puppy. Everyone was happy.

I immediately tried to read to my new sister. I was not quite four, but I had memorized some of the poems in A Child’s Garden of Verses. I pretended to read it, holding the book to show her the mysterious hieroglyphics splashed across the pages. That is my earliest memory of a book.

Our father was the one who opened me to poetry. After dinner, while still at the table, he’d pull out his dog-eared copy of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner or The Canterbury Tales and read aloud. I was mesmerized by the sound and rhythm as, one by one, Philip Larkin, Emily Dickinson, and Elizabeth Bishop were all brought to life by his voice. From time to time, I’d glance at Janet, sitting on Mother’s lap at the other end of the table, to see if she was paying attention. She must have been, since she soon began to read Dr. Suess. All of it. Later, she read the Black Beauty series while I lived with Louisa May Alcott’s March family.

Our tastes, as they were developing, dovetailed and diverged. I remember summer days much like this one, each of us pulling out a book from our beach bags and reading while other children splashed in the community pool, their shrieks and the drone of insects background music to the worlds that books evoked. Alice in Wonderland. Catch 22. Siddhartha. The Magic Mountain.

How and when did we go from being readers swapping books to collaborators on our own book projects? It was much later. Janet had developed into a serious fine artist and I had published quite a few poems in the lit ’zines. We had always shown our work to one another for reaction and comment and we saw that we were exploring many of the same themes. Our sensibilities and interests overlapped and merged in much the same way as the sound of siblings who sing. The notion struck us--if we combined our arts, would it make for a richer utterance?

You must be the judge of that. As for us, the making our library is the primary pleasure.

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Tags: Scattered-Light-Library, books, collaboration, development, reading, sharing, sisters, taste

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Comment by Cheryl Snell on August 4, 2011 at 4:56pm
Hi Cathy! So nice of you to read this.
Comment by Cathy Kozak on August 2, 2011 at 3:26pm
Writing for the pleasure of it and for the reading of it and the sharing of it is indeed a primary pleasure...
Comment by Cheryl Snell on July 29, 2011 at 1:12pm

Thanks, Deborah, for reading this. There's something in these warm summer breezes that brings up fond memories, no?

I just looked at your post on pricing/valuing our work. I priced one of my novels at $4.99 on Kindle and the publisher of my other novel priced that one at $8.99. They're neck and neck sales-wise, but to me, of course, they're equally priceless. heh


I never write anything with a view to publication -- it seems presumptuous. I write a piece for its own sake. If I like the finished product, that's when the other concerns take hold. It becomes another game entirely and I really don't like the self-promoting creature it turns me into, but, hey, everyone's doing it and I don't want to simply watch the parade pass by.

Comment by Deborah Batterman on July 28, 2011 at 12:13pm
Well, you know I'm a fan . . . and I think there's something incredibly special about having this kind of collaboration with your sister. How could I not help but love reading about the roots of it all? Lucky you -- you got the sister and the puppy!

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