Oh yes. I start to have lots of memories around the time of my third birthday. I didn’t learn to read until they taught me in first grade. I was six-and-change by then.
I didn’t begin to read for pleasure until I was eight.
Finished my Ph.D. at twenty-six, so I’m not a big believer in the importance of early reading.
I have memories from before I could walk or talk. And I remember watching my father write a letter, in long hand. I then “wrote” my own letter, in the style of long hand. If you looked at it from a few feet away, it probably would look genuine.
I have a few fuzzy memories of kindergarten class and a hugely traumatic set of events that took place between 5-8 years old.
I have several vivid memories before I learned to read, and I remember very clearly the day I, at four years old, first read a book. It was raining out, my mother was ironing and my older brother was delivering the clothes to the proper rooms, using the vacuum cleaner as his horse. I picked up a book about two Scottish terriers called Mac and Jeff and sounded out the letters.
Before being able to read? Hell yes. I didn’t learn how to read before 1st grade. I don’t have a clear specific memory of not knowing the letters of the alphabet. By 3, I knew how to write my name and a few other words, but I can recall writing it backwards (right to left) and being corrected. Similarly I can recall confidently announcing to my parents that I knew how to spell Ford, because I could see the letters on the car: “D, R, O, F!” (I’m not dyslexic, it just hadn’t sunk in that left to right was how it was done, and I didn’t associate letters with specific sounds yet either—phonics came later)