From the desk of Roland Rocchiccioli – 29 September

If you impoverish language, you impoverish thought. Words are thoughts; and without words and thought society faces catastrophic consequences. It is how dictatorships are born, and flourish.

BOOKS were my childhood sanctuary. They hid the violence. In moments of despair I withdrew and vanished into the world of Enid Blyton, Daniel Dafoe, Charles Dickens, and other famous authors who were published in the glossy, colour, Classics Illustrated comics, which were published monthly.  Titles included Lorna Doone, Gulliver’s Travels, Prince and the Pauper, and One Thousand and One Arabian Nights. I collected the 50 of the more than 100. When I left for boarding school the mint-condition pile, together with a complete set of School Papers, and cherished ABC song books, were stored at my sister’s house. When they moved, her husband threw the entire collection onto the open flat. The loss of those significant possessions still fills me with a despair.

Fortunately, my mother, Beria, an avid reader and proponent, had taken possession of my collection of books for my younger sister. A pop-up cowboy and Indian publication, Children of the New Forest, Poo Lorn of the Elephants, The Queen’s Coronation Book, and Grimm’s Fairy Tales, were particular favourites. I still have my Australian series of Leslie Rees’ Digit Dick, which came to me as Christmas and birthday presents over several years, and Shy The Platypus.

In Western Australia, the Education Department established a travelling library for those children living in the more remote areas of the state. The books, which arrived by train, were transported in a bright orange, metal trunk, and were shipped each month between schools. For several years I was the school librarian, and I could not wait for the monthly arrival. Not surprisingly, I ear-marked the best books for me! A protective library book bag was mandatory. Beria made mine from navy blue sailcloth with a white drawstring. An illustrated version of Oliver Twist (Charles Dickens) appealed. It was borrowed, and never returned. Still, I have it in one of my bookcases – battered and much loved.

At boarding school we had a comprehensive library, which proved a favourite bolthole. If I did not want to take part in sport, or I wanted to escape the boredom of the classroom, I headed to the library. The librarian was an astute woman and recognised a passion for reading. She introduced me to Georgette Heyer – Power And Patch – and set me on the magical path of historical novels and biographies.

As a tertiary student, the Perth State Library was the only means of gathering information. We spent days, weeks, indeed, months of our lives in the establishment. It was both an educational and a social encounter.

I would find it impossible to live in a house devoid of books. I have a passion, and they provide a source of comfort. I was distressed to read that, especially in public schools, libraries are being dangerously undervalued, and, disturbingly, teacher librarians deemed surplus to requirements. It is little wonder literacy standards are so abysmal across the nation. Listening to some leaders (I heard the Federal Minister for Education, Dan Tehan, talking about student ‘preformance’), there is arguably reason for apprehension. There is no greater gift, or joy, than reading; it helps breaks the cycle of ignorance; it sensitises and inspires; it engenders a sense of self and helps explain our personal relationships. Reading is food for the soul; it enriches a life and breaks down racial barriers. It makes us empathetic; more mentally flexible; improves rationality and creativity; enhances brain connectivity and function; and can help stave-off dementia. In this screen-age, it is imperative we encourage childhood reading. The librarian teacher is, incontrovertibly, the most important in any school!

Roland can be heard every Monday morning – 10.30 – on radio 3BA and contacted via [email protected].