Children’s books provide hope. They allow us to disappear into a world of possibility. Magic becomes real and a soothing balm for our hard reality.
Enid Blyton fulfilled this for me when I was growing up. She took me into a world where children were their own heroes.
I have just finished the modern day equivalent: The Art of Magic by Ann Harth.
After the death of his father and a perceived betrayal by his ex best friend, Andy finds light through the grief by helping his new artist friend find his way back through history to true love. Andy reconnects with possibility, and his father and ex best friend. And conquers his bullies by using his brain and reuniting with his friend, Jack. A beautiful and easy read. I cried. Happy tears.
On this wet Sunday, do yourself a favour and download it from Amazon. If you don’t have a kindle, get the kindle app for Apple. You won’t regret it!