Top Ten Tuesday: books that were totally deceiving & childhood favorites

There is only one book I can think of that I have read that was in any way deceiving, and even then it wasn’t the book or its cover that was misleading, just where I found reference to it. Actually I can’t even say I was mislead, because it was what that list said it was; that just turned out not to be the main reason I enjoyed it so much.

Now, moving on from the cryptic references… I found the book Libyrinth, by Pearl North, on a list of fantasy books with queer characters. For that reason, and because the two line summary sounded worth it, I picked it up at the library. What I discovered was a book about censorship, knowledge, and the transmission or guardianship of knowledge. Yeah, there was a queer character or two, and that was great because it was done in an “it’s totally not a big deal” way, but the rest of it was why I would recommend the book to anybody else.

Since that wasn’t much of a list, and there are many, many past Top Ten Tuesday topics, I’m going to pick an old one, which is “Childhood Favorites.” The problem here is definitely not how to find enough, but which ones to pick.

First, some classics: Heidi and The Secret Garden. I tried a few other classics, but these were the only two that I really enjoyed, and returned to over and over.

Next, some random books: Harriet’s Hare by Dick King-Smith was a book I actually thought of as my favorite book for a long time; Julie of the Wolves by Jean Craighead George was my favorite of her books; Matilda by Roald Dahl is almost the only Roald Dahl book I read; The Wheel on the School by Meindert DeJong  is pretty much just random. I have no idea where I got it from, but I re-read it a lot.

Third, some series: The Bobbsey Twins by Laura Lee Hope were hard to get my hands on; The Boxcar Children by Gertrude C. Warner were much easier to find. Harry Potter, by J. K. Rowling is pretty much the series of my (older) childhood. The first 2 books were out by the time I picked it up, but I read them both shortly before I turned 11, and followed Harry along until book 7 came out about a month before I turned 18.

Last, something a bit odd: the James Herriot books. They were a favorite, and I have a distinct memory of reading one in fourth grade during silent reading time. The person sitting next to me didn’t believe I was actually reading them; he claimed I was just turning the pages.

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