Favourite Classic Book
I don’t seem to have read a lot of the classic books that others have, though many are on my wishlist. I think it may be because people often make it their mission to read as many of the ‘greats’ as possible, simply so they can say they have done so. I, on the other hand, read purely for interest and enjoyment and, if I find a classic book (or any other, for that matter) boring or unappealing, I do not hesitate to put it away and move on to the next (hopefully) great read.
When doing so, I often remember my English teacher’s words:
A book does not have to be good to be a classic. It merely has to be old and have some historical significance. Anybody who says they have loved every classic they have read is either lying or a pompous fool.
That isn’t to say that classic’s cannot be enjoyable – I have read and loved quite a few. One of my favourite classics is, as so often happens, a children’s book. It is a charming Australian story that is just as appealing to adults as it is to children. It is a refreshing read that doesn’t moralise the way many children’s books of the era do.
The book I am referring to is Seven Little Australians by Ethel Turner and it is an entertaining and uniquely Australian story, with a highly unexpected ending which deserves a place on everyone’s reading list.
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