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Mar. 14th, 2014 09:16 amLast night, because of reasons, I downloaded an audiobook of The Jungle Book.
OMG, you guys, The Jungle Book! I loved The Jungle Book so much as a small person - we had a beautiful hardcover copy with paintings by Gregory Alexander and I read it over and over again. I still have bits of the poetry memorized, and it's one of the books I read while small that taught me to conjugate the thou form of verbs, which teachers tend to look at askance when you are in third grade.
(Incidentally, it is also the source of my first experience in being disappointed with a film adaptation. I'm sure I'd seen the Disney version before reading the book and but I clearly remember rewatching it after reading the book and the feeling of "What the hell is this, what do you think you're doing, no, stop that.")
My childhood library didn't have the first Jungle Book available as an audiobook, but it did have the second. (Which is how tiny me learned that there was a second Jungle Book. I haven't read it in a long time and not near as often as the first, so my memories of it are hazy, but I remember thinking Red Dog was awesome and being really freaked out by The King's Ankus and having a weird affection for The Undertakers.) I was disappointed in this gap in the library's collection, so I decided to make my own audiobook of the first one. Which I did by holding the book open in front of me and reading from it into the microphone on one of those old Fisher-Price tape players. I put Mowgli's Brothers on one side of the tape and Tiger! Tiger! on the other side and listened to it at bedtime. (I have been using bedtime audiobooks for a very long time.)
I have long since lost that tape, of course. But now, I have an actual full-length audiobook! So exciting!
I should find myself an audiobook of Just So Stories* too.
*My youngest sister has never read Just So Stories which I learned recently by quoting The Cat That Walked By Himself at the tv for a reason I do not now recall. I find this weirdly astounding because I am always bemused by the fact that my sisters didn't read the same childhood classics I did, despite them being shelved on the shared bookshelf in the basement tv room.
OMG, you guys, The Jungle Book! I loved The Jungle Book so much as a small person - we had a beautiful hardcover copy with paintings by Gregory Alexander and I read it over and over again. I still have bits of the poetry memorized, and it's one of the books I read while small that taught me to conjugate the thou form of verbs, which teachers tend to look at askance when you are in third grade.
(Incidentally, it is also the source of my first experience in being disappointed with a film adaptation. I'm sure I'd seen the Disney version before reading the book and but I clearly remember rewatching it after reading the book and the feeling of "What the hell is this, what do you think you're doing, no, stop that.")
My childhood library didn't have the first Jungle Book available as an audiobook, but it did have the second. (Which is how tiny me learned that there was a second Jungle Book. I haven't read it in a long time and not near as often as the first, so my memories of it are hazy, but I remember thinking Red Dog was awesome and being really freaked out by The King's Ankus and having a weird affection for The Undertakers.) I was disappointed in this gap in the library's collection, so I decided to make my own audiobook of the first one. Which I did by holding the book open in front of me and reading from it into the microphone on one of those old Fisher-Price tape players. I put Mowgli's Brothers on one side of the tape and Tiger! Tiger! on the other side and listened to it at bedtime. (I have been using bedtime audiobooks for a very long time.)
I have long since lost that tape, of course. But now, I have an actual full-length audiobook! So exciting!
I should find myself an audiobook of Just So Stories* too.
*My youngest sister has never read Just So Stories which I learned recently by quoting The Cat That Walked By Himself at the tv for a reason I do not now recall. I find this weirdly astounding because I am always bemused by the fact that my sisters didn't read the same childhood classics I did, despite them being shelved on the shared bookshelf in the basement tv room.
