All I wanted for Christmas in the long-ago Fifties–besides a dog, natch!–was a book. A book of my very own, in which I could escape to other worlds and play with other beings, while actually safe and secure with my family at home. My first book was Grimm’s Fairy Tales–and boy oh boy, were those stories grim! I loved the unique scent of that book as much as its iconic stories. Today Grimm’s still occupies pride of place among the thousands of nourishing books in my family library.