Enid Blyton has been a childhood favourite author of mine, I even still have her books in my bookshelves now, ones I have held onto since I was small. They were some of the very first books I started to read as a kid, with the help of my parents, who must have been driven too the loony bin, by me constantly asked what that word was.
Enid Blyton’s stories always had the children going on an adventure by themselves, without adult interference. To me as a kid that was awesome, it meant exciting things would happen. Her stories were always written not to make kids feel in the way, but part of life that their parents had no idea existed. Something that speaks even to the young children today.
I haven’t by choice read a lot about the author’s life, not because don’t want too, but as homage to the little girl inside, who enjoyed reading her books so. Sometimes things from our childhood should be protected and not totally shattered by becoming an adult.
A couple of years ago I came across the wishing tree books by Enid Blyton, they were a series I hadn’t read as a kid. Unlike today when I was growing up you had libraries and bookstores, but no internet or Esty, so I only read the books I could get from those places. Once I found those books, there were a few more I found to read for the first time. I fell in love once again with Enid Blyton’ s books and read them with the excitement of a little child. I also realized that it was okay to re-read and enjoy those books I have kept on my bookshelves for years. Sometimes we as adults need a little magic in our lives.
My childhood reading has shaped me as an adult into a person with imagination and love of words, as well as being someone who has traveled the world. Books have given me that thirst and need to learn about the world I live in. Without them I feel my life would of been very dull indeed.