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The Velvet Room is a surprising and wonderful book I never wanted to read again. When I discovered the book at the age of ten, its spare and elegant words drew me in from the beginning. The story seemed to live in a place of its own—a place radiating the magic of old houses, set-apart rooms, and the love of books. It was a story I never thought I could visit as an adult and find that special magic again. But because it was so special to me, I kept the book through college, marriage and moves from California to Oregon and then north to the Canadian border. It always found a place on my new bookshelf in all the new places, but I never opened its pages again until now. There is a special sense of kinship whenever I hear the name of a childhood favorite, especially those read during the middle grade years. I can read many of them again and find the sense of belonging in the story and even the old wonder. The Velvet Room, however, was a book that seemed to belong to only one time in my life. As a child, it never occurred to me to even find out if the author had written any other books (something I always looked for with other favorites). It was a book that lived in a special, but closed, place of my childhood. When I wrote a blog about special places in children’s literature (find it here), I finally took The Velvet Room down from its shelf—not to pack in a box for another move, but to try reading about the most magical and mysterious reading place of all in the story. I did hesitate before opening the cover, but I needed to know. Does it still contain the same magic? Inside, I found the pages were clean but had mellowed into different shades of cream and brown. The cover was brittle. With a feeling as fragile as the cover, I began reading. The Velvet Room, by Zilpha Keatley Snyder, tells the story of twelve-year-old Robin. Ever since her father became ill and the family had to leave their home in 1934, she'd become a wanderer: "There had been three years of living in tents and shacks, and even in the old Model T; so a steady job for Dad had come to mean, more than anything else, a house to live in—a real house with a front porch, shiny floors, and things around that were there just to be beautiful, like pictures and curtains." Robin feels like a wanderer outside, but the worst is feeling like a wanderer inside, with "uncomfortable hollows, empty except for vague longings—like when you’re hungry, but not for anything you can have." After losing her home, she feels disconnected from herself and her family. Only a real home, she believes, will fix the lonely ache inside and make her life perfect. Then she discovers the Velvet Room and everything changes, but in ways she never expected. Finding the Magic Reliving the magic of stories is a chancy thing. And yet, the story about Robin, to my relief, touched my imagination again, I found the same elusive connection I did as a ten-year-old searching for stories that were special. In only one place did I surface from the narrative. There is a brief portrayal of a secondary character that is dated and wince-worthy. Beyond that, I found The Velvet Room is still enchanting, even without any wizards to be found in its pages (although there is one wise and unusual character who comes close). It is one of the best books I've read that finds the heart of what reading and books can mean to a child. Only in rereading the book did it occur to me that I could find out more about the author now. I typed her name on my modern computer, expecting to see perhaps a few lines about a writer still shrouded in mystery. I learned the author with the unusual name had her own website. It seemed as surprising to me as finding out that Dorothy Gale had just returned from a jaunt to Oz and uploaded a picture of herself and Toto on Twitter. Once I adjusted to the absence of mystery, I delved into her website. I found that the author published over 40 books during her lifetime, wrote three Newbery Honor Books and possessed a lively sense of humor. I was saddened to learn she passed away at the age of 87 in 2014. A Love of Books A detailed autobiography on her site was delightful and gave a glimpse of her personality. I found I was in good company because of my own love of books and libraries. Zilpha Keatley Snyder wrote: "Books and reading must have had a beginning somewhere but it is beyond memory. I seemed to have been born reading... She continued, "Books! That evocative mixture of paper and ink and glue and dust never fails to bring back the twinge of excitement that came with the opening of a new book. - Libraries were treasure houses. I always entered them with a slight thrill of disbelief that all their endless riches were mine for the borrowing. And librarians I approached with reverent awe—guardians of the temple, keepers of the golden treasure..." Sadly, her website has been taken down. I'm glad I captured her quote when I had the chance. I’m very glad I found there is still magic in her words and in the Velvet Room. #Authors #BooksandReading Linda Borromeo enjoys reading children's books so much she decided to write her own. Mystery Shores is filled with lighthouses, animals, birds, and a traveling library. And there are secrets that young sleuths Christie and Melina must solve. For ages 10 and up.

Did you have a special place as a child to take a book and read? I loved reading outside and could usually be found under a tree with our two rescued dogs nearby. Literary characters find their own magical places when they want to read a book. Here are my top five choices for the most interesting reading retreats: 5a. Jo's Attic (garret) in Little Women Attics seem to represent something special in children's literature. While brainstorming about evocative places to read, my friend, Lisa, mentioned three attics: The school attic where Bastian hides with the book in The Neverending Story; Sara Crewe's imaginary world in the cold attic in The Little Princess; and Jo Marsh's hideaway for reading and writing in her garret. Coming in at number 5, "A Tale of Two Attics" shows how authors can create a completely different atmosphere and mood using the same setting. Perhaps it is the feeling of being above everyday activity, alone and private, that makes attics so exceptional. Here is an introduction to the place where Jo likes to read, write, and renew her creative energy with crisp autumn apples: "Jo! Jo! Where are you?" cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs. "Here!" answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo's favorite refuge; and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet... 5b. Sara Crewe's attic in The Little Princess In contrast to the comfortable scene in Little Women, Sara Crewe's attic is cold and unsought. When funds for her tuition at a boarding school cease, she is forced to become a servant and stay in a frigid attic room. Author Frances Hodgson Burnett doesn't shy away from showing Sara's bitterness and anger at her change in fortune. We also see how Sara's powerful imagination makes the attic a place where she can reach inside herself for strength and transform her life. This excerpt shows the balance between the hardship of the attic and Sara's ability to create a world of her own: When the square suddenly seemed to begin to glow in an enchanted way and look wonderful in spite of its sooty trees and railings, Sara knew something was going on in the sky; and when it was at all possible to leave the kitchen without being missed or called back, she invariably stole away and crept up the flights of stairs, and, climbing on the old table, got her head and body as far out of the [attic] window as possible...It used to seem as if she had the sky and the world to herself... 4. The Maple Tree in Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown My friend, Lynne, recommends one of her favorite series, the Betsy-Tacy stories. I love the way author Maud Hart Lovelace adjusted each book in the series to match the reading level of her fans as they grew older. The beginning of Betsy and Tacy Go Downtown finds Betsy in her maple tree where she loves to read and dream of writing a story of her own: Betsy was sitting in the backyard maple, high among spreading branches that were clothed in rich green.Three branches forked to make a seat, one of them even providing a prop for her back...She was aware of the river winding through its spacious valley and of a world, yet unexplored, lying beyond. 3. Emily Starr's reading chair in Emily of New Moon: In the scene at the beginning of the book, all that is settled, hopeful, and well-loved is about to change for Emily. Reading is tied to the comfort and familiarity of her first home: ...Emily had curled herself up in the ragged, comfortable old wing-chair and read The Pilgrim’s Progress all the afternoon. Emily loved The Pilgrim’s Progress. Many a time had she walked the straight and narrow path with Christian and Christiana–although she never liked Christiana’s adventures half as well as Christian’s. For one thing, there was always such a crowd with Christiana. She had not half the fascination of that solitary, intrepid figure who faced all alone the shadows of the Dark Valley and the encounter with Apollyon... 2. Bailey Badger's retreat in The Tale of Briar Bank In the series, The Cottage Tales of Beatrix Potter, we find the children's author moonlighting as a sleuth in her beloved Lake District. The books are written in Miss Potter's own style, and feature all sorts of creatures who live in a thriving world of their own. Although I'm not usually very fond of places away from the sunlight, this depiction of an underground library is wonderful and contains one of my favorite quotes about reading: ...whilst Bailey lived in three simple rooms (spartan or bare, depending on your point of view), his library enjoyed a much larger space than he did. It occupied six commodious chambers, each room filled floor to ceiling with bookshelves containing works of history, biography, science, philosophy and literature. These works had been collected, through numerous generations, by badgers who believed that "Reader" was the most rewarding vocation to which a virtuous badger might be called, and who gauged their week's anticipated pleasure by the height of their to-be-read piles... 1. Robin and The Velvet Room For me, there is no more mysterious place in children's literature than The Velvet Room by Zilpha Keatley Snyder: From that first glimpse, from the first minute, it was more than a room—more even than the most beautiful room Robin had ever seen. Her hands shook on the doorknob, and the shaking didn't come from fear or cold. Her trembling hands were only an echo of something deeper that had been strangely shaken by that first sight of the Velvet Room...It was as if she had been there before, or at least had known it was there. As if she had always known there would be a place exactly like this... The walls of the room were paneled in dark wood. All along one wall the bright bindings of books contrasted with the wood. The books went on and on, all down one side and across the far wall, on shelves that went almost to the ceiling... My own copy of The Velvet Room has traveled with me from my childhood days in California to college in Oregon and then up to the Canadian border in Washington State. Even as I kept it with me, I never reread it. I was afraid the special feeling would vanish if I began reading it again as an adult. Recently, I finally made the leap. Please join me at a A Most Mysterious Room: Revisiting a Childhood Classic. #BooksandReading Linda Borromeo enjoys describing the room overlooking the ocean where her characters read in her own books (there's also a traveling library). The first book in the series, Mystery Shores, is available to read now. Her Islands of Mystery series is for ages 10 and up. Linda lives in the Pacific Northwest where she often hikes while watching birds and thinking of her next book to read.

Once upon a time, a shy little girl sat reading at her desk in a combined fifth and sixth grade classroom. Bright sunshine filtered through the windows, but she failed to notice it. During an hour given over to silent reading, she’d become lost in the story world of The Swiss Family Robinson. A voyage of discovery...an appeal for help...a thrilling rescue...everything else slipped away. “Linda…” A voice intruded into the wonder of printed words. “Linda!” The tropical island she was exploring in the book disappeared. Her teacher’s voice took over. She looked up to see thirty pairs of eyes locked on her. Soon giggles from some of the girls and teasing laughter from a few of the boys surrounded her. Her toes began to curl and she felt her face heat. She realized the rest of the children had put away their own reading. The teacher had long ago started another lesson while her head was still bent over the open book. Although this teacher was not one to scold, she expected him to tell her to pay better attention in the future. She waited for the words that would only make her feel more awkward. Instead, her teacher began talking about the remarkable adventure of becoming caught up in a story. Anyone, he said, who could explore new lands, thoughts and ideas in a book had found a treasure no one could take away. The enchantment of a deeply-felt story would last a lifetime. He praised those who could appreciate a good book and block out any interruptions—interruptions that included his own teaching! By the time he finished, the other children looked at her as if she'd done an amazing thing. ~~~ I was that shy little girl, of course, and my teacher was Mr. Frank Talcott at Ramona Elementary School in Hemet, California. Although I can't remember his exact words now (I wish I could time-travel back and hear them again), the impression they made is still a part of me. It could have gone either way that day. Reading for me could have become associated with an embarrassing scene at school. Instead, my teacher's words gave me a glimpse of something truer and deeper. I began to see the world of stories and imagination in a new way. I mined for treasure every time I opened a book. I learned more about the wonder of those deeply-felt stories he spoke about. The joy of reading became mixed with my memory of Mr. Talcott’s kindness in drawing away the attention of my classmates. The combination gave me a special feeling about books that is an essential part of who I am. It is an important reason why I wrote my own book for children, Mystery Shores. Without even making the association at first, I set my story on an island full of secrets. I also include a special traveling lighthouse library and celebrate books and reading along with the unfolding mystery. Mr. Talcott's words have become part of my imagination when I write. There are books that become life-long friends. They can be read again and again with that same special charm every time. I've tried, but The Swiss Family Robinson is not one of those books for me now. I find I cannot go back and recapture the same feeling I experienced when I read this particular book for the first time. It is a story, however, that is forever linked in my memory to that sunny afternoon when Mr. Talcott spoke about the power of stories and changed the way I experienced reading forever. Thank you, Mr. Talcott. #BooksandReading #Islands Linda Borromeo is the author of Mystery Shores, a novel for children ages 10-14 (and all fans of historical mysteries). On a quest to save her friend, Christie Edwards must uncover a dangerous secret. Join Christie as she fights for answers on a remote lighthouse island in 1893.