Lynne Griffin: Sharing the Love of Reading

In honor of Mother's Day this Sunday, Lynne Griffin, the author of Life Without Summer, writes about how she's shared her love of reading with her daughter over the years. She also recalls how their mutual passion for books came full circle during the writing process of Life Without Summer.

Click here to read Lynne's previous guest blog post.


From the time she was able to sit her little body upright, my daughter held tight to a book. I can still picture her in that baby carrier pretending to read her first board book, Teddy's Garden. As a family educator, I'd been telling parents for years that a love of reading can and should be nurtured. While I still believe this to be true, for my daughter, the passion for books is as innate as the color of her eyes.

In the beginning, I'd capitalize on her interest in books by placing her in a stroller at naptime, thinking whether she slept or didn't, I'd be able to buy some bookstore or library time. I could poke around collecting titles for my to-be-read list. Invariably she'd resist sleep, instead intent on "reading" her own book --- turning the pages delicately, always with the care of a librarian --- giving me all the time I needed to make my selections.

In her early childhood, late in the afternoon, I'd act as if my number one priority were good role modeling, when in fact I was merely in need of a break from the rigors of parenting a little one. I'd tell her it was time to collect a stack of books and meet me on the living room couch for some quiet time. In minutes, she'd be as engrossed in her picture or chapter books as I was in the latest hardcover novel I'd purchased.

Until she was a self-sufficient reader, my husband and I would read countless books to her; always before bed, on long car rides, or during dinners that involved foods she didn't care for. Reading provided an almost magical distraction. We became fans of library visits, books on tape, and book swaps with family and friends.

Like every good parent, I couldn't wait for the day when she would display her talent for independent reading. Though as she gained skill --- always holed up in her room, or parked under a tree, even walking through the house lost in a book --- I feared I was losing something. Lovingly crafted, ours was a relationship made closer because hard working authors carefully chose the words placed on those pages. I wasn't ready to relinquish our special bond made possible through reading together.

So long before mother-daughter book clubs became fashionable, my girl and I formed a partnership around the written word. She loved my suggestion to read a selected book and then set aside time to discuss it. With little effort, she or I would pick one. Typically she'd choose fantasy or something historical, while I would deftly pick a title that might give us the opportunity to talk about pre-teen and teenage issues; those prickly subjects best explored through the lens of a character's experience. We'd set a date for our discussion, read the book separately during a window of time, and then on the scheduled day, we'd venture off to a restaurant to talk about our selection over tea and dessert. We always set aside a long stretch, believing each book deserved a leisurely discussion.

The Phantom Tollbooth, Chasing Redbird, The Witch of Blackbird Pond and Tuck Everlasting paved the way to The Summer of My German Soldier, Amy and Isabelle, Peace Like a River and The History of Love.

All these years later, I can honestly say that my daughter and I literally grew up together reading. She's twenty now and a college student, still reading, frequently recommending books to me. I am the published author of a parenting title and, this Mother's Day, a debut novelist. I did not know when I began nurturing my daughter's love of reading, a girl who clearly would have loved it all on her own, that I would receive an unexpected gift. My daughter has become one of my most trusted readers. Reading early drafts of Life Without Summer, she offered insight beyond her years, no doubt a by-product of her voracious reading habits. "Ian needs friends, Mom," she said. "I think you should show Celia's softer side earlier in the novel. You want readers to like her before they find out about her hidden past." Of course, I believe my star reader was spot on with her editorial suggestions.

This Mother's Day I urge you to give your child a gift. Buy books. Read often. Read together. In my experience, you'll receive so much more than you ever give.

---Lynne Griffin