I have read a lot of Ray Bradbury but had never picked up this gorgeous reflection on growing up in America in the early 20th Century that ended up on my desk one spring day in 2023. This is a book that seems to do what Bradbury does best, but perhaps not in the way that one might consider it to be based on the rest of his work. This is truly magical realism, where Bradbury uncovers and simmers the magic of the perfect summer in the ‘good old days’ of his childhood. Frankly, the anecdotes, the fireflies, the summer sun, all of it a miraculous meditation on how wonderful things are and can be in one moment. During this period, after the horrors of World War I, before the atrocities of World War II, and on the borderline of the havoc the Great Depression wracked on the average American family, we see what may be considered one of the most wonderful and romantic childhoods in the history of our nation.
This sentimentality isn’t of the cavity-causing kind, but the kind where Bradbury runs wild on nostalgia, the magic and joy of childhood, the awe of agnostic spirituality and gratitude, the wonder of what will never be again. This is the magical realism in this story – not one predicated on a gimmick of technology or social commentary of injustice, but one where normality can be exploded into a million pieces and appreciated for every atom of its existence. This childhood is the one the future will write about, and the one that he has chosen to write about. This is not the two-dimensionality of the Courier and Ives that never existed, but rather the three-dimensional wonder of having nowhere to be, adventuring through backyards and imaginary worlds while making wishes on dandelions that flow through the world like fantastical galactic sprites – the same dandelions that are brewed into a pungent alcoholic tonic of celebration and toasts to the summer. This magic is in the living, the once-perfect world. A childhood of wonder and adventure. One which has no disappointments of death. Nothing rotten about humanity’s failures to itself to satirize. Nothing that contains the future that comes next, only the beautiful, beautiful now of childhoods of old.
This is the perfect book to read for summer, again and again… even if it’s not ours. In Bradbury’s capable hands, we can all experience it if just for a moment.
Garrett Zecker 