I come by my love of librarians naturally—I’m actually the daughter of one. Though she retired last year, my mother was for many years a middle school librarian. These days, I scandalize her by writing novels with dirty scenes in them, novels she would never dream of recommending to a seventh or eighth grader. But we still talk about books we’ve both enjoyed, and now that I have children of my own, we especially talk about picture books. My mother recently sent a copy of “A House is a House For Me” to my daughters, who are two and four. As we read and reread the rhymes in it, some of which I still remember from my own childhood, I am reminded that a great book really is timeless.