When I was a reading-obsessed child, there was a series of books called The Borrowers by Mary Norton – the first one was published in 1952 and won the Carnegie Medal. The “Borrowers” are a family of tiny people who live by “borrowing” things from the people in the house – sometimes they return them, sometimes they don’t. When things go missing in the house, they are blamed. Norton uses maximum creativity in imagining what “borrowed” items might be used for by 6” people. A thimble might become their stewpot, for example.
I do not know how we would characterize the Borrower books today; they are chapter books and Amazon describes them for children from 6-10; however, most children within that age range would have to have the books read to them (the writing includes words like philosophical and rheumatic). The language level is surely at a par with what we term “young adult” novels now, but the subject matter is far tamer and probably far wiser.
The Borrower stories are told to the child Kate by the elderly Mrs. May, who was “some kind of relation” who lived with her younger family members in London. There is this wonderful description of her in the first chapter:
Mrs. May was old, her joints were stiff, and she was – not strict exactly, but she had that inner certainty which does instead. Kate was never “wild” with Mrs. May, nor untidy, nor self-willed; and Mrs. May taught her many things besides crochet: how to wind wool into an egg-shaped ball; how to run-and-fell and plan a darn; how to tidy a drawer and to lay, like a blessing, above the contents, a sheet of rustling tissue against the dust.
How great is that passage? Old Mrs. May had “inner certainty,” and she taught the little girl things, useful things. Just being with Mrs. May made Kate into a better child – never “untidy” or “self-willed.” If you read the Borrower books as a child, get one and read a couple of chapters. Do this even if you didn’t read these books in your early years. You will be charmed. You will want to be like Mrs. May.
But back to “borrowing.” We must have a family of Borrowers in our house, because I keep missing things – as well as names and words. Is this the Borrowers too? Things I have lost (“the art of losing isn’t hard to master”) do tend to show up sooner or later – usually just two days after they have been replaced. They show up under a cushion on the couch, in the glove compartment, or set on a shelf in the linen closet. The names of people and things that I have forgotten return too. Where they have gone to is less obvious. They are not gone forever, but seem to have sunken to the bottom of my consciousness, only to return when I no longer need them. Oh, I will say to myself just as I am about to fall asleep, the name of that nice women in the grocery store was Jill. Too late. But where had Jill’s name hidden all afternoon? Are there also borrowers of the mind?
Of course, there is inter-personal borrowing also. I get aggravated at people in my life who borrow things and don’t return them. And it is very uncomfortable to ask. I loan out contemporary novels gladly, hoping they will never resurface in our house, which is always in need of more shelf space. But important books are another thing. I don’t begrudge the books themselves – most can be replaced for a pittance – but my marginal notes are precious (if only to me). I must admit, though, that when I was going through books in anticipation of moving, I found more than one with the name of an old friend on the flyleaf. Mea culpa.
My husband has his own answer to this dilemma. He rarely, if ever, loans books, and never takes anything (even a plastic food container) to someone else’s house that he wants returned. He has a skeptical view of human nature – or at least of human memory.
Of course, we also borrow memories from each other, which are also often appropriated and never returned. We sometimes correct each other’s memories and often nudge each other into remembering past times that we had almost forgotten. Sharing reminiscences can impress upon us how unreliable memory can be. No family gathering is complete without an argument about exactly how something in the past happened.
In old age, we often say that we are living on “borrowed time.” But we have no intention of returning it. And we may “borrow” from the past as well as the future. I loved looking back at Mrs. May and her Borrower stories. Mrs. May knows what it means to lose something and what role the human imagination has in coping with it, making a story of it. I wish I had Mrs. May’s “inner certainty.”
For an example of the borrowing and sharing of memories, you might look at my story “Boxing Day – A Vignette.” Or, better yet, get a copy of Mary Norton’s The Borrowers out of the library.
When I Come To Be Old 