“What sort of book would you like to read next?” she asked.
Matilda said, “I would like a really good one that grown-ups read. A famous one.” (from Matilda by Roald Dahl)
These days, I’m spending so much time reading grown-up books for school that I find myself looking longingly at my children’s book collection, thinking of a time in the future (December) when none of the books I read will involve insane narrators, domestic violence, or invocations of the ever-dense theorist Foucault. Don’t get me wrong—I love my classes and the things I’m studying. But after finishing a particularly troubling novel tonight, I think I would answer the question posed to Matilda in precisely the opposite manner. Something funny, something fanciful, something where good triumphs over evil. One that children read.