I made a serious error in rereading these books. I don’t know why I picked them up — I remember devouring them as a kid — the same feeling I had when I first read The Hobbit (or later LOTR) or Ender’s Game.
Well, they say you can’t go home again, and I think that holds true for some of my favorite childhood books — reading them as an adult, they’re practically unreadable — I mean, there is so much in them that is awful. I’m still a bit of a sucker for giant mythologies, so liked that part, but man, tough to read, and I think I wish I had left the memory in place.
Sometime maybe I’ll do a post on the most influential books I read growing up — there are certain books that I can vividly remember where I was and what was happening as I read them. Some were great, some not so much. But they all contribute in some way to my world view now.