Been doing something rather odd lately. My bookshelves are, as always, messy, so the books lined up are uncategorized and in no order. I’ve been squinting over them and pulling out some of my (thicker) favorite children’s books, the ones I used to read when I was ten, and reading them all over again.
Last night I finished Enid Blyton’s “Faraway Tree” trilogy, which was written during the end of the 1930’s, and read a bit of the Wishing-Chair today. (I’m not going to go through Secret Seven or Famous Five; there’s too many of them.) I’ve been looking for my Winnie-the-Pooh books too, the original A.A. Milne publications. And I just pulled out The Phantom Tollbooth, which I remember feeling very proud about because I had thought it was a very Smart book (looking it again now, it is pretty smart, in a Lewis-Carroll kind of way).
Maybe Roald Dahl’s next. They all seem pretty fantastical.