You Are The First Book That's Ever Been Mine

'What was the first book that you considered yours?'

This question, posed by my supervisor, gave me pause for thought and I couldn't really come up with an answer. I had plenty of favourite books growing up – The Baby-Sitters' Club, Narnia, The Day After Forever, and Make Way for Ducklings to name a few. But a book that was mine? None of these fit the bill. I had to share these with other people. They were either wildly popular, or family favourites. They seemed too universal to ever really belong to one person.

I settled on Gordon Korman's book, I Want to go Home, as my answer, but didn't have any reasoning for it. Now, having had three years to think about it, I can properly answer the question.

You probably haven't heard of it. Let me introduce you. This is my copy of the book:

It's looking a little worse for wear now. It was pretty rugged when I bought it, and it's gotten worse since. At some point I made a pretty poor attempt to fix it up a bit.

Not very tidy, but it's in one piece now instead of three.

So why is this book mine?

To start with, I bought this book myself. I'm pretty sure it was the first time I spent my own money on a book. My parents weren't even there when I bought it. I got it from a gala at my school in Westport when I would have been about six or seven. It cost fifty cents. I picked it up because it was an Apple paperback, and so were the BSC books – so I figured it had to be a good read.

It's also mine because I don't know anybody else who's read it. It came out in 1981 so it was already over a decade old when I picked it up. Logically I know that somebody must have had to have read this very copy before I did, but I've never seen the book anywhere else.

And then there's the content. Oh, the content! I love this book. Here's the rundown: rugged scallywag Rudy Miller is sent away to summer camp. He hates it (fair call – there's far too many sports there!) and together with his new friend Mike sets out to escape, driving their cabin counsellor Chip completely bonkers as they do so. Rudy's wonderfully sarcastic, always knows what to say, and is never ruffled at all.

There's a few references in there that I never got when I read the book as a child. Camp Algonkian Island is often referred to as Alcatraz by Rudy. That went completely over my head. Rudy calls the counsellors clones, as they all look the same. I didn't know what clones were when I first read the book, and the references are pretty heavy. No matter. I also didn't realise that the camp was in Canada (I assumed it was in the USA as the baby-sitters are) but there are references to the Queen, Toronto, and Ontario. And as for Bobby Fischer, Pele, and Henry Rono? No clue.

When I read the book again this week I noticed a few sayings in it that I've picked up unconsciously, and either use frequently or think frequently. And by 'think' I mean 'go over situations in my head and imagine I'm saying what I wish I had the guts to say at the time'. Let's have a look. Here, Rudy is trying to (and succeeding at) getting out of camp activities:

“It's a shame I'll have to miss that.”

“Why?” asked the counsellor.

“I don't run,” Rudy explained.

“He doesn't do anything!” exclaimed Harold Greene.

“Exactly,” Rudy agreed.

“How do you do that?” Mike whispered. “How do you get out of doing all those crummy camp things?”

“It's very simple. You just don't go.” (15)

It's very simple. You just don't go. How often I've wanted to use that phrase – or some variation of it! I adore Rudy's skill of brazenly getting out of things he doesn't want to do, and his blatent explanation for it. How wonderful it would be to not do things because you don't want to, and not have to give any excuse for it!

Later, Rudy has once again raised Chip's ire.

“You're going to mail that?” cried Chip. “You can't send that! I'll kill you!”

“Threats of violence,” said Rudy, making notes. (25)

I've definitely used this one when I've heard people jokingly remark 'I'm going to kill you'. Actually, the guy who sits next to me at work likes to ask me if I'd like to see a magic trick. And by this, for those of you who are not Batman fans, he mean he wants me to impale myself on a pencil. Next time he makes such comments I'd love to calmly remark 'threats of violence', while making a note of it on my awesome typewriter-shaped post-it notes.

“I think it stinks,” piped up Harold Greene.

“That's because you have no soul,” explained Rudy pleasantly. (40)

I definitely use this one far too often. Basically whenever it's at all applicable. And for any one of you who thinks I use it too often or use it when it's inappropriate, I have one thing to say: That's because you have no soul. :)

And now, for a quick tour through some of my favourite parts of the book, to see if I can explain why I love it so much, and why I think of this book as mine.

“Of course,” said Chip. “Early to bed, early to rise.”

“Yes, said Rudy. “Makes a an healthy, wealthy and dead. I'm going to get a few more hours sleep.” (p.13)

Ooh, snap! I totally relate to this. I hate going to bed early. I hate getting up early. Basically I just hate early. I'm never early for anything, least of all waking up in the morning. And this phrase enables me. I could DIE if I get up early and go to bed early. So, if it's alright with you, I'd rather not do it.

“Good morning, boys,” he greeted the assembly. “It gives me great pleasure to welcome you to Algonkian.”

“It would give me great pleasure to go home,” mumbled Rudy.

Mike snorted loudly into the silence.

“Webster!” (16-17)

Mr Warden regularly gives speeches to the camp. Rudy makes snide remarks throughout, cracking Mike up while he himself remains stonefaced. My sense of humour is as dry as Rudy's. I can imagine us both standing there listening to the asinine speeches and alternately coming up with sarcastic yet hilarious remarks.

Rudy writes a letter home to his parents from camp. Well, he tries to. For some reason Chip doesn't let him send it. Censorship, I tell you!

Dear Mom and Dad. This place is terrible. Each day I am subjected to countless atrocities. The food is spoiled and poisonous, and the drinking water is contaminted so there is an outbreak of typhoid. Our cabin collapsed last night in a typhoon, but don't worry. Only one guy got killed.

It's not all bad. I do have one friend, named Mike. He's he one that pulled me out of the quicksand. I have to haul garbage every day, but there aren't too many wild animals at the dump and I've only been bitten twice.

Mr. Warden, the director, is very nice, and he has a real social conscience. He hires only desperate criminals as counsellors. Our bunk counsellor, whose name is Chip, is a reformed axe-murderer on parole. He has red eyes and yells a lot and keeps an axe under his mattress.

Tonight is really going to be fun. Our cabin hasn't been fixed yet, so we get to sleep in trees. I sure hope the typhoon doesn't start up again.

I'll be safe and sound so long as Algonkian Island doesn't sink any further.

Your son,

Rudy

P.S. If this letter looks messy it's because I'm writing it while being chased by a bear. (24)

Be still my beating heart! The understated horror, the false cheer, the flippant afterthought. The sheer nerve at even trying to send the letter.

Chip was dumbfounded. They had actually done it. They had actually built a salate. He lifted the lid and looked inside. Dirt. It looked like dirt. Some topsoil, some clay, a few stones and the odd bit of grass. Dirt. He ran his fingers through it. Dirt. This couldn't be a salate. He had looked it up this morning in the dictionary and had been unable to find it, but whatever it was, this couldn't be it. (39)

“Strange isn't the word I'd use for Miller,” growled Chip. “Crazy would be more like it.” He banged his fist on the table. “I don't like being lied to! They said they were building a salate, and this is is what they hand me!”

Pierre laughed out loud. “And that's exactly what you got – a salate.” He stoppped to catch his breath. “It's French, Chip. It means dirt!” (44)

There are many examples in children's literature of children triumphing over adults, of outsmarting them. This is a great instance of it. Rudy and Mike have been trying to make a dam so the camp will flood and everyone will be sent home. They've skipped cabin sports to do so and told Chip they've been at arts and crafts making a salete. He demands to see it, thrilled that he's going to catch them out. BUT IS HE? Dum dum dum. Nope! He's foiled, once again.

“Well, here's something you may not know,” said Frank. “This morning you're playing baseball and soccer, and before lunch you're going swimming.”

“I don't play baseball or soccer,” said Rudy calmly, “and I don't swim. Lunch we can negotiate.” (63)

The counsellors have banded together and decided that come hell or high water Rudy is going to play sports. He's determined right up to the bitter end, and he calls the shots. [Spoiler alert: He does end up playing sports, but presents it as if it's been his decision, which I'm sure it has. It is Rudy, after all.]

“Now, if I may continue – all punishment is hereby revoked. One of the counsellors will take out the garbage. Let's pick a number at random – uh, say, thirteen.”

“Miller, you stop that!” shouted Chip, springing to his feet. (117)

“I know,” announced Chip. “We'll get Miller to pick a number at random – uh, say, thirteen.” (140)

Rudy is tricked (or so the counsellors think) into playing a game of chess on which certain conditions are wagered. When he wins he is granted the chance to be Camp Director for a day. He sets about punishing Chip, setting him unpleasant tasks to do. He pretends to be choosing him randomly by picking a number, but strangely enough he always seems to pick number 13. Chip tries to take advantage of it later on when the counsellors are arguing about who gets to go on a trip, suggesting they get Rudy to pick a number at random. That's right, Chip, you're playing right into his hands just the way he wants you to!

Here, Rudy hilariously explains what is going to happen on the day he is in charge.

“The 'no activities' rule, of course, applies to campers only. I have noticed that the counsellors are in terrible physical condition. Accordingly, the counsellors' relay races will begin shortly after breakfast. This will be followed by the counsellors' obstacle course, the counsellors' shotput, the counsellors' swimming race, the counsellors' discus throw, the counsellors' ten-kilometre run, the counsellors' soccer game, field hockey game, baseball game, high jump and, if there is time, the counsellors' lunch.” (117)

He's pushing the boundaries here, seeing how far he can go. He goes pretty far and I love him for it.

“All right,” said Chip, smiling broadly. “I'm Chip.”

“And I'm Jane,” replied a counsellor from Silver Lake.

“And I'm Tarzan,” murmered Rudy.

Mike snickered.

“Quit that, Webster!” snapped Chip. “Now, one by one, let's hear your names.”

“Joey.”

“Adam.”

“Mary.”

“Grace.”
“Mike.”

“Zeke.”

“Miller!” yelled Chip. “Don't fool around!” ...

“Okay,” said Jane when they had finished, “let's see who remembers all the names. How about you, Rudy?”

Rudy blinked twice nd began to recite with computer accuracy: “Joey, Adam, Mary, Grace, Mike, myself, Barbara, Harold Greene, Brian, Jane ...” He pused and stared at Chip in perplexity. “What was your nae again?”

“Chip! Chip!”

“So much for bird calls,” said Rudy. “What's your name?” (152-153)

Oh, how this amused me to no end when I first read it. Snarky Rudy at his best, AND he's showing Chip up in front of the girl he likes. Well played, sir, well played.

“I'll sweep out the bunk,” offered Adam

“I'll pick up litter in the compound,” said Joey.

“I'll help clean the mess hall.”

“I can help Joey with the litter.”

“I'll wash the mess hall windows.”

“I'll supervise the entire operation,” offered Rudy. (167)

I hate cleaning. I'm totally on bord with Rudy here. I would want to supervise too. He ends up scrubbing the floors though, much to Chip's delight, which brings us to this realisation point:

Rudy stood up and folded his arms. “Gentlemen, Mike and I don't like the working conditions here. We” – he pulled Mike to his feet – “are on strike.”

“Yeah,” squeaked Mike.

Pierre started to laugh. “You've got a big mouth, Frank, and a big foot to fit in it. You too, Chip.”

“Miller –“ said Chip warningly.

“We're on strike,” Rudy repeated. “We've got to get over to arts and crafts to paint some signs so we can picket.”

“Arts and crafts is all cleaned up and closed for tomorrow,” said Pierre, “but I'd b happy to open it up for you.”

“Hey, whose side are you on?” snapped Chip.

“That's quite obvious,” said Pierre. “Now – this is how you handle a situation like this. Miller, Webster, be good joes and finish the floor.”

“Gee, we'd like to,” said Rudy, “but it's against union regulations.”

“I'll give him union regulations!” hollered Chip, shaking a big fist.

“Tell you what I'll do,” said Pierre. “We're working under a tight deadline here, so I'll double your salaries.”

“Oh, well,” said Rudy, “in that case the strike is settled.” He and Mike dropped down to their hands and knees and continued scrubbing.

Chip was dumbfounded. “Boy, is Miller ever stupid!” he whispered. “He doesn't get a salary!”

Pierre shook his head resignedly. “The problem isn't Miller.” (168-169)

At least, I think this is supposed to be a realisation moment. I don't really get it though. Rudy cracks me up, as he normally does, and I love how Pierre is firmly on his side. (Or in his camp, get it? Because they're at camp.) But I don't understand the last line. The problem isn't Miller? As much as I love Rudy and enjoy reading him, and love seeing Chip get his, if this were a real world sitution I'd be completely on Chip's side. Rudy's run away about ten times by now, caused a whole lot of trouble no matter how polite he is, and refuses to participate in anything. I'd be pulling my hair out too.

But then, that's the world of fiction isn't it? It's a place where we can explore different sides of ourselves without it having a negative impact on our real world existence. Perhaps there is a part of me who loves this rule breaking and trouble causing, when it's done so delightfully. Perhaps this is part of what makes this book 'mine'.

P.S. Bonus points for getting the Taylor Swift reference.

P.P.S. All references from Gordon Korman's I Want to Go Home (Scholastic, 1981)