After this post, I remembered another book that conjures a feeling of extreme disenchantment for me. This one might even win out over good old velveteen, albeit with much less merit.
When I was a bit older than Velveteen Rabbit age, my parents started to give me larger and more challenging books to read. I didn't mind, as I enjoyed reading, until the day they tried to make me read this book:
For SOME REASON, the cover of this book terrified me. I think the copy I had was even more brown and washed out and it just looked like a couple of cavemen were hovering over something...it looked evil. Bad evil. Those of you who are reading this post right now are probably old enough to look at the cover and feel no fear. BUT, dear readers, imagine yourself to be a young Kelly. And now imagine the effect that velveteen had on me. And now sympathize with the havoc The Pearl was wreaking on my non-adult mind.
Just kidding. I don't really mind if you don't sympathize with this one, I just think it's a comical story. So scared was I of Mr. Stenbeck's artist's rendition that I refused to read the book. I wouldn't even open the cover to read a synopsis; I certainly wouldn't open the back cover to read the last page. (What horror would've awaited me??) My parents often asked me how the reading was going - a usual question - and I just told them I didn't know. I was so scared that I wouldn't even tell them I was scared of it! I finally took to hiding it in the most secret of places - - my windowseat. (Katie, you have a great memory. Kudos for remembering such a saga.) In my room growing up there was an alcove window and below it there was a windowseat. It was basically just extra storage, but it's where I put lots of junk. I knew the book would never be discovered there because my parents weren't keen on searching through piles of broken toys and papers.
And that's where it stayed until...well, until geno and I got engaged and I had to clean out my room at my parents' house. It made for an amusing discovery.
I still haven't read it.