I pulled this one off my shelf after I finished my plane books and had been reminded how much I truly love to read. Some books are like old friends and I enjoy rereading as much as I enjoy re-watching some of my favourite movies. It’s comforting to know what’s going to happen, and yet good books often have layers of meanings that are revealed upon rereading, the same way cartoons often contain adult jokes that you don’t notice until you end up re-watching them one day when babysitting.
This book isn’t precisely like that because it is a fairly short and simple story, but I loved it the first time I read it and I still enjoy it. I believe it was one of many books given to me throughout my life by my dear aunt and uncle, Joan and Charlie, who also gave me my first Harry Potter book (they have good taste and I’ve loved nearly everything I’ve gotten from them).
I think more stories of unconventional, imperfect but loveable girls can only make the world a better place.