About the only books I had as a child, aside from the one room library, which I read from the left wall to the right wall to the front door, was the Bible (King James version) and those lovely, adorable, multi use catalogs. Long hours of reading every word in them, lusting over toys that I knew Grandma could not afford, being properly scandalized at the wild and sexy underwear ads, and then, at the end of the catalogs' lives, an end (pun intended) that did end in the little house out back.