I chanced upon a stack of Faraway Tree books at the book exchange corner and only took one of them because I wasn’t sure if the son would take to it. Part of it stemmed from my reservations. I mean, I enjoyed reading Enid Blyton when I was young but she was seriously so prolific that I couldn’t distinguish one book from the other. Eminently forgettable. Though I did enjoy reading the Faraway Tree adventures so no harm trying it out.

The son didn’t protest when I sat him on my lap and read it aloud to him. Which was amazing since the book comprised about a hundred pages. Still, he never wavered in his concentration. I guess kids these days are lucky. Publishers will rebrand stories and hire illustrators to make the story come alive with vivid and colourful illustrations. I wonder how I got hooked on reading back then. Zero pictures. Nothing bolded to emphasise key events.

Of course, one could argue that we were luckier because we could harness our imagination to visualise the events. But well, I thought that the illustrations added to the story rather than deprived readers of a chance to use their imagination.

Like before, I would forget what I have read by next week, but there’s something comforting about reading Enid Blyton. I just know that the characters will manage to solve their problems and have a satisfying closure. The son said that he didn’t mind reading another Enid Blyton book again, so I guess his inaugural venture into her world was a success.