There are some serious gaps in my children's literature education. That's probably because until a year ago I hadn't read any children's lit since I was a child. Now I'm rediscoving the kind of books that got me excited to read in the first place, that shaped my love of words and made me want to tell my own stories.
I just started reading the Secret Garden. (I told you there were serious gaps.) Already I love it. I love this poor disagreeable girl who doesn't make you feel sorry for her but makes you want to see her grow. It's the perfect set-up for what has to happen later. We know she'll find the secret garden. We know she'll make some friends. We know that she'll learn to be human. We keep reading to find out how.
Before starting this book, I had drafted a blog post about what a snob I am about good writing and how I haven't been wowed by a book in a long time. It was a rather jaded and cynical post. I'm glad I never finished it. Because now I'm renewing my faith in the beauty of a simply story and the magic a good writer can conjure with the right combination of words.
Unlike many of the fast-paced adventure stories I've read lately, I want to read this slowly and savor every word.
Next on my reading list: A Little Princess and Bridge to Terabithia