My life has been absolutely blessed with reading. I talk often about the fact that I could read before I even started school. I brag about that actually. My parents and grandfather taught me to read. Those were the days of the 1950’s; when school started with Grade 1. This was before Kindergarten was invented although there were some private schools like Miss Hann’s School for young gentlemen over on Deanery Avenue. Winterton School in the east end was another one.
I was an only child for the first five years of my life. I had my parents’ undivided attention. Then my brother John came along and spoiled almost everything. I say almost because by then I knew how to read. It changed the rest of my life. The first book in Grade 1 I remember after I entered school was David and Ann. That was in a Catholic school. The Protestant schools had a different Grade 1 book but that is the way denominational schools worked. There were a Catholic way and a Protestant way. It made no sense, but our Catholic ‘reader’ book started like this.
“David plays.
Ann plays.
Mother works.
Father works.”
We changed that later in our playground games to read;
“David plays,
Ann plays.
Mother works.
Father is on Unemployment Insurance.”
My whole family were readers. I had an uncle who kept several books of the Encyclopedia Britannica in his bathroom. This is when Britannica still existed in print form. There were no computers then. There was no such thing as “online”. The “books in the bathroom” tradition says a lot. It continues in my home to this very day, much to the chagrin of my good wife. Britannica is not there but there are several biographies there and a couple of Ray Guy collections and a few issues of The Newfoundland Quarterly.
Beyond grade school the path of reading for me was further shaped at MUN where, in the English way, a student “reads” for his degree. I was lucky enough at MUN to take one English course from Dr. Paddy O’Flaherty and another from playwright Michael Cook. You talk about good fortune.
Eventually I went overseas to England to find adventure and found work in London. I worked for W.H. Smith and Sons. They were, among other things, newspaper, magazine and BOOKSELLERS. I came to understand books and newspapers and magazines and how they were sold. As an aside at my newspaper kiosk in Earls Court where I worked a regular customer for The Times each morning was comedian John Cleese. He always said, “Good morning, The Times please”. I always replied with “Good morning, sir”
You may be wondering where all this leads. When I eventually returned to St. John’s I needed work. I knew about fish plants and brewery work. I also knew about pick and shovel. I knew about working in a lumber yard and I knew about general labour on a truck. I also knew about the real passion of my life. I knew about books.
I, along with my brother and another friend from university, opened AFTERWORDS Bookstore. Often people ask about the clever name AFTERWORDs. I can tell you the name came by way of the fact that the store we rented at 234 Duckworth Street had previously been occupied by WATERFORD NURSERIES. Their sign was made up of individual wooden letters. A few glasses of wine and a few beers later we came up with the name AFTERWORDS.
So, what is the great lesson? Well, it is simple. In the world of books, you meet many wonderful people. Readers are great. It doesn’t even really matter what they read. The medium is the message. Readers of Harlequin Romances or westerns (“dusters” they are called in the book trade), or sci-fi or biographies or history all seem to be decent people. At AFTERWORDS, in the early days we had a coal burning stove that heated the store. I would spend hours talking books with anybody and everybody. There was a city worker, a postman, a university professor and a whole load of people that were readers and loved talking books.
I loved it and I remember it fondly. I have an e-reader, but I still prefer books that are of PAPER. There is a smell to them and a sound of pages turning. In my home there is the faint smell of old books. I’m not even sorry about that. It is a very welcome background to my life.
You can contact Jim Furlong at jfurlong@ntv.ca