Essay on Autobiography of a Book: A book is essentially a big treasure trove of knowledge. People pick up books from bookstalls, libraries and online purchases. A book should be respected and maintained with dignity. A book that is neatly wrapped looks clean and attractive to read.
Essay on Autobiography of a Book
Below we have provided Autobiography of a Book Essay in English, suitable for class 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9 & 10.
“A room without books is like a body without a soul.” ~ Marcus Tullius Cicero
I am an ocean of knowledge, a vast sea of information. I am someone’s feelings; I am another’s story. I am a book. In ancient times, I was made from papyrus or parchment, but now I’m made using so many different kinds of paper. I remember my first home. It was a reader’s paradise; the library. I was kept on a shelf with other books like myself. Our genre was children’s storybooks. My two favourite things about living there were first, the librarian and second, the sweet children.
The librarian always made sure that we were dusted, clean and well kept. Never once did she keep us in any other place except for our fixed ones. She was very disciplined and warm. She handled us with so much care and respect. And what do I tell you about the giggling children and their compassionate mothers! They were happiest when they came to our shelf. Mothers read me to their children on several nights while they went to sleep.
The little ones loved the playful font and the colourful pictures printed on my pages. I always came back home after a week, never late. Then one day, a child named Tony took me to his house. His home was very big, and his room was full of giant stuffed animals. He was old enough to read me himself. He used to read me at the breakfast table, he used to take me with him to his school, and he even kept me close while sleeping.
I knew I had found my best friend. But one day, Tony’s dad came home and told him and his mother that they had to move to a new city because of his job. Tony’s mother had to return me back to the library. But Tony never did give me to her. He told her that he had lost me. So, his mother paid the fine at the library, and I went to his new home, in a new city with him.
Life there was good at first. Just like before, Tony and I were always close. But then he started growing and forgot all about me. I was stuffed in a messy drawer near his bed. The drawer was hardly ever opened. Dirt started piling up on me, and even bookworms made their way into eating my paper. The feeling at first when they were crawling was ticklish, but soon it turned out to be very painful.
Tony was interested only in the newest technology and latest gadgets. He started spending all of his time playing video games and chatting on his cell phone. I got to know that many people stopped buying books or going to the libraries. All of them started using the internet for unending information. I had never felt more invaluable and lonely.
Then one day after a very long time when Tony’s mother was cleaning the house, she opened the drawer where I laid. I don’t think she remembered me. She emptied all of the contents of the drawer into a plastic bag and handed it over to the housemaid. She gave it to her so that her child could use it. The housemaid happily took it and went home.
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