Hooked by a book at the Dedication Page {On Reading}

I recently read a novel by a new-to-me author. Jamie Langston Turner’s name was somewhat familiar, but mostly I was sold by the last line of the short blurb sent by the publicist, “Together, the two women embark on a journey that takes Julia far from the familiar comfort of home and gives Carmen the courage to open her heart. Together, their sightseeing trip turns into a discovery of truth, grace, redemption, and, finally, love…”

You can read my full review of To See the Moon Again (and there’s even a giveaway), but I am proud to share with you the poignant, beautiful dedication that had me hooked before I technically began page one.

Has that ever happened to you? I know that for me when I finish a book which has completely captivated me, I can’t seem to put it down. I find myself reading the acknowledgements at the end, or the reading group guide, or an excerpt from whatever book the publisher wants to promote. I just don’t want to let go. I think that this is the first time I’ve been hooked by some bit of text before the novel.

Dedication from TO SEE THE MOON AGAIN by Jamie Langston Turner, copyright (c) 2014 by Jamie Langston Turner. Used by permission of The Berkley Publishing Group, a division of Penguin Group (USA) LLC.

For Carolyn Svana Turner, born September 30, 2009and Charles Kjell Turner, born July 12, 2013Before your daddy was born, I observed babies from a safe distance, judging them to be cute miniature people with enviable privileges, such as the freedom to stare at others openly. Up close, however, I was intimidated by them — they seemed so helpless yet were little tyrants when it came to taking over a grown person’s entire life. I respected them for their importance to the future of society, of course, since babies always end up as adults if given enough time, and I was even quite fond of several of them, my nephews and nieces in particular, whose parents took them home after brief, enjoyable visits.

But when your daddy was born, I lost my heart to a baby, totally, permanently. Wonderful years followed as I reveled in every phase of motherhood. Now and then someone would say, “Just wait till you have grandchildren.” I wasn’t in any hurry for that, however, for I had observed grandparents, too, and had come to the conclusion that most of them had no sense of social awareness. What else would explain their endless monologues about their grandchildren’s extraordinary charms, always accompanied by far too many photos?

And then your daddy grew up, married your beautiful mother, and the two of you were born, first Svana and, four years later, Kjell. I still remember the two moments in time, one in April and the other in December, when we learned you would be joining our family. I loved you both instantly, long before I knew your names. I knew your names before I saw you. I saw you before I held you. And when I held you, I didn’t know what had hit me. I thought my life was rich and overflowing before you came, but I found that there was a whole enormous reservoir just waiting for you to fill it.

Thank you, my dear grandchildren, for the abundant joy you give without even trying. It will be a long time before you’re old enough to read a book like this, but when you are, I want you to imagine your Ooma writing this page of dedication, stopping often to gaze at your photos and smile over the two of you and your extraordinary charms.