Books may well be the only true magic – Alice Hoffman
In the Phillips household, Halloween preparations are underway. We have a bowl of sweets ready for the estate kids when they come trick or treating and plans for a family night on the couch with my husband and teens watching a horror flick with a takeaway.
I’ve spent the month spreading the Halloween mood online with scary books to read and films to watch. I love the costumes and scary celebrations of the season as much as anyone but if I’m honest, that isn’t what Halloween is about for me.
As someone who lives for magic and storytelling, Halloween marks a sentimental opportunity to think about loved ones who have passed and find a way to connect with them. It won’t surprise you that my way to connect is through the books they loved.
I have a shelf of old, mainly leather-bound books that belonged to my parents. Some were passed down to them from their parents. There’s a stout copy of Robinson Crusoe, a slim copy of the Elusive Pimpernel, and two hefty tomes of Shakespearean plays, to name but a few. My mother loved to read drama and adventure. My father was a theatre fan, hence the immense number of play-scripts he accumulated.
Each Halloween I’ll read a couple of chapters from a novel, a number of poems, or a few scenes from a play from my ancestral collection. While I do, besides enjoying the story itself, I’ll remember that my parents touched these pages and experienced these words just as I am now.
However you spend the day, I wish you all the best for a mellow, heart-felt Halloween.
