The Games We Played : A Celebration of Childhood and Imagination

Rating:
Summary: The Loss of Imagination
Review: As an only child, I had plenty of motivation to use my imagination to create different games to amuse myself with. Most often these involved Legos, Matchbox cars, darts, and tennis balls, depending on the weather and location. Editor Cohen seeks to tap into that time in all of us, in this little stocking-stuffer type book which assembles the brief memories of writers and famous folks in (as the subtitle says), "A Celebration of Childhood and Imagination." While some of the entries don't really fit in that well with the overall theme (Jackie Collins and Lou Stovall's come to mind), most do evoke a sense of wistfulness and childhood innocence. The contributors recount in simple prose (and in two cases poems, and another, in illustrated panels) the games of their youth-from paper dolls, to neighborhood Olympics, to Chinaberry wars, and so on. It's the kind of book one wonders if could be done in 50 years now that children have much less unstructured playtime outside the home-something to think about.

Rating:
Summary: The Inner child
Review: I loved this book. Like many of the contributors to this excellent anthology I played ball games; stood on street corners with a 'gang'and generally tried to mix in. But I had glasses from the age of 6, too much reading under the blankets with a torch so the rougher games were out for me. One pair of spectacles and it had to last! With this in mind, I eagerly read, nay devoured Glen Roven's account of his own childhood. I am, next year, a first time author - published in August 2002, but my first love has always been the theatre. That world of imagination that we all seem to lose sight of in the short-sightedness of growing older. Glen, if he'll excuse the informality, comes over as a cross between Mickey Rooney and George M Cohan, and no doubt the show was put on in the barn! His memories of putting on shows is priceless - the sequence with the glasses is a gem - and far from being reluctantly wheeled out to entertain the grown-ups this was one boy who you didn't dare to hold back. This was a kid born with a baton in is mouth and rhythm in his veins; his career since then has proved that. Childhood is the foundation of adulthood and we should never forget it. In our rush to mature we sometimes lose the inner child, with its imagination and open-eyed wonder on seeing something new, through eyes that are without cynicism and predudices. Short sightedness can be cured! Everyone should be encouraged to read this anthology, to realise what some of us have forgotten, the wonder of being a child, and the impulsivenss, sometimes recklessness of youth. Glen's account speaks to me, personally, on many levels, but chiefly in the world of the imagination of theatre. I urge you to read this book, latch onto the inner child, if needs be rake it forwards from the recesses of your memory, live your youth again and if the spirit moves you to do so go, fly that kite.