Book #94: The Little Prince

This marks the place where I started reading again, so for the first time in forever I’m writing about a book I read recently. Yaaaay.

I never read The Little Prince as a kid. I’d actually never heard of it until our foreign exchange student came when I was 20, and he told me it was his favorite book. I thought it sounded interesting and made a mental note to read it, but never got around to it.

I’ll just come right out and say it: this. book. is. lovely. It’s just so lovely. It made me feel things and then I got a little sad and then I felt happy and then I wanted to cry a little bit, and then I was just like, “…oh.”

It actually took me back, a bit, to being a kid and to having concerns that to you are the biggest thing in the world, but to adults are of no passing consequence. Grown-ups are weird because they don’t worry about flowers or sheep or any of the important stuff, they’re just too focused on numbers.

For some reason I was a little bit reminded of Holden Caulfield and his concern about what happens to the ducks on the pond in winter. It seems like we carry a little bit of these “trivial,” yet so important, concerns with us even into adolescence. I wonder at what point I started worrying about things like that. I’m not sure, but I hadn’t even thought about it until I read The Little Prince.

And then, of course, there’s the rest of the story. The bits with the laughter in the stars and the narrator hearing the laughter and waiting, wondering about the little Prince and waiting for him to maybe, someday, come back.

And, of course, I haven’t been able to stop asking myself if the sheep ate the flower. Personally, I think no, the sheep hasn’t eaten the flower. What do you think?

Rating: *****
Up Next: The Comfort of Strangers


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