“A children’s story that can only be enjoyed by children is not a good children’s story in the slightest.”
While going through a box of old books a few days ago I came across a book that fits this description – a children’s book called Hating Alison Ashley, written by an Australian author, which I picked up for a few pence at a school bring and buy sale when I was about twelve. It soon became a favourite of mine and I ended up reading it several times, and it became one of those nice random occurrences, especially considering I bought it on a whim and it wasn’t exactly a classic (not to me at least; I’m not sure about in Australia). After I rediscovered it I started reading it again and it was just as good as I remembered. Not all children’s books are like that. Those nostalgic memories of how amazing the story was can be ruined when you read it again as an adult.
The best example of a children’s story that I have enjoyed as an adult has to be the books written by CS Lewis himself. It has been several years since I read The Chronicles of Narnia, so perhaps it’s time I do so again. What were your favourite books as a child that are just as enjoyable as an adult?