Of Hungarian Rhapsodies and Hobbits in Ithilien.

     Those of us who are lifelong readers know that books aren't just compilations of adventures and characters that we love. A favorite book is like a window to a past version of yourself. You open up its pages and instantly recognize that familiar smell, unique to that particular book. You smile when you see the stains and watermarks in its pages where you spilled a bit of spaghetti sauce, and where your tears fell when you read it for the first time. You remember that it was October, and that you were obsessed with silver gel pens, horses, and pen pals.
    
     I started reading The Lord of the Rings for the first time when I was twelve, right after we got back from one of our summers spent in Alaska. To say it left an impression on me would be like saying the ocean has some water in it. Then it was around that time that my mom picked up a cassette tape (remember those?) called "The Flight of the Bumblebee" from the Salvation Army, probably thinking to further my education with some classical music appreciation. It was all piano music, from the wedding march to-- you guessed it-- Hungarian Rhapsody no. 2. To this day, though I've searched Amazon, Youtube and Bing, I haven't been able to find other copies or recordings of it anywhere.
   
      I'm really not sure I want to admit this, but my car has a cassette deck. I know, right? You're all wondering what kind of dinosaur I've been driving. Well anyway, the other day I rediscovered that old cassette that used to be such a treasure, and popped it in. Oh the memories! How I used to pour over those books while the music played, and I would imagine what part of the piece reminded me of which scene in the book while my imagination ran wild with wonder. For some reason I always paired the Hungarian Rhapsody with the part in Two Towers (one of my all time favorites from the books, though not so much in the movie) where Frodo and Sam journey through the oppressed yet still vibrant Ithilien. Their growing danger is so starkly contrasted with the beauty around them, the shadow of their likely suicide mission tempered with the reminder of a greater purpose-- that above the darkness the stars still shine.
   
     That has idea has stuck with me all my life as surly as the sheen of silver ink and the haunting melodies of an old cassette.

     So what books have become memories in your life? Is there a special time of year, a smell or an idea that you associate with them? Tell me about it!