Books and spaces

Have you ever noticed how certain books and certain spaces seem to be made for each other?

If you had the privilege of growing up in a family that read books, then you probably have memories of books and spaces that just knit together in the most remarkable way. Even if you didn't you may still know the experience.

Sometimes books and spaces meet, and the child who gets sucked into that powerful vortex is in for quite a ride - possibly one that will survive into adulthood, provided the adult has the maturity to not crush his childlike ability to dream.

My childhood bedroom was the most fantastic place to lie down and listen to Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are.

The room was on the dark side of the house, with these marvellous jungle-themed curtains.

It was the 'wild' side of the house; the one room where you'd be woken if cats were fighting in the backyard, or if a possum was getting into the dog food. Long after the lights had gone out, I could lie there, staring at the flourescent stars on the ceiling, and imagine myself with Max and his monstrous friends.

As an adult, it can be hard to keep alive that ability to find a space and a book and say, 'These two belong together.' It helps to keep your wits about you.

We were in the company of some friends this evening, relishing some good food and wine in their delightful abode. As the evening wound to a close, I found myself in conversation with Jim in the loungeroom. Jim was cuddling my baby son, Elisha, as we chatted.

At one stage I looked around this large room with its leadlight windows, small bookshelves packed with ancient tomes and teddies and trinkets, the old upright piano, wide timber skirting and a winding staircase disappearing up into the aging ceiling.

The fire was burning low, and I said to Jim, 'This would be a fantastic place to read The Chronicles of Narnia.'

Jim gave a gentle chuckle and a knowing nod; he understands.

So which book and which space is it for you?