Why I Read Children’s Books

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When I was a child, my mother always pushed me towards reading. If I wanted a toy, I had to wait at least a week to ensure that I really did want it. Whereas if it was a book, I could have it almost straight away. She introduced me to the greats from Winnie-The-Pooh to Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland to The Chronicles of Narnia. I devoured every book I could get my hands on and so I really do owe my passion for reading to my mother.

Naturally as I grew up, so did my reading tastes and I moved on to teenage fiction where Vampires were very much the range. I was always struck by the variety from contemporary romances, coming-of-age stories, fantasy and the paranormal, that when I slowly moved out of the intended audience, I always found myself gravitating towards these age ranges.

Children’s fiction is pure magic. It can be set in far off places with adventures that defy any kind of reality in our world. But while being down-right hilarious, and sometimes non-sensical, they can prove heart-warming tales of bravery and gut-wrenching stories that remind us of how vast a child’s experience can be.

Young Adult has so much variety and scope to it that I just don’t find outside of it. Childhood and teen years are something everyone experiences. We can relate to the worries of these characters and at a time, we may have searched for solace in them.

In my opinion, there’s nothing quite like it and that’s why I keep coming back for more.