Growing up in a poor family meant that many things had to be set aside to focus on basic survival, including personal hobbies like reading. It’s not that people from lower economic backgrounds don’t have hobbies—we just can’t always fully immerse ourselves in them.
When I started school, I quickly got into reading. My family, especially my grandmother, was very supportive. Despite the small and outdated school library, there were books I loved borrowing. We could only borrow them for a limited time—about a week, if I remember correctly. One of my favorites was “The Rose in My Garden.” My lola (grandmother), who knew how much I loved reading and wanted to encourage me further, got the book photocopied for me. The copies were blurry, but at least I had my own version that I could color and read even after returning the original.
Another source of reading material was the free storybooks from Nido, a popular powdered milk brand in my country. There were several storybooks in the collection, and it was a challenge to collect them all. We didn’t have much money to always buy the milk, but I managed to collect quite a few and sometimes borrowed my neighbors’ storybooks. I even remember getting into a funny argument with my best friend over the word “else.” We were playing a question-and-answer game, and the question was about the name of the princess in the story. She said it was “else,” pronouncing it like “Elsa,” and I argued that it wasn’t a name. Of course, we made up quickly afterward.
Reading Children’s Literature as an Adult
One of the things I appreciate about growing up is gaining the means to improve my life and pursue hobbies on my own terms. I could access more reading material—buying books I wanted and, with advancements in technology, searching worldwide for books that interested me.
I remember when I was first able to access the internet more easily, I searched for a set of books that I remembered reading parts of when I was in 6th grade. I only got 3 out of the 7 books and I was so desperate to check if the other books were still being sold somewhere because I loved the series so much. Imagine my joy when I found a complete set on Amazon. I couldn’t afford them at that time (I was still a student) but I was happy that I had a lead on where to get the complete series. It was one of the first purchases I made on Amazon.
Nostalgia
Despite being well beyond the target age for children’s literature, many of us, myself included, still love these stories. For me, there’s a deep sense of nostalgia, especially when revisiting classics like “Alice in Wonderland.” It’s a glimpse back into simpler times—those quiet, balmy afternoons spent lost in a book. They say smell is the strongest sense tied to memory, and I agree. The scent of book pages can instantly transport me to those lazy afternoons. This is also why I prefer physical books over e-books; while digital copies are convenient, they don’t evoke the same feeling. But that’s a topic for another day.
Escapism
These days, much of my time is filled with stress and busyness. Life can be so hectic. People use many means of escapism – drugs, alcohol, social media, and games to name a few. I use reading as a form of escapism. Reading, especially children’s literature, brings me a sense of calm. Katherine Rundell captures this beautifully in her book “Why You Should Read Children’s Books, Even Though You Are So Old and Wise” with this quote:
Ignore those who would call it escapism: it’s not escapism: it is findism. Children’s books are not a hiding place, they are a seeking place.
Katherine Rundell
In my opinion, reading is one of the healthiest forms of escapism. Books allow our minds to expand beyond the confines of reality and encourage us to exercise our imagination. Often, I find myself losing my sense of wonder and creativity—perhaps because the realities of adult life require us to be pragmatic in order to survive. Reading helps me reconnect with that lost sense of imagination.
Literature is the most agreeable way of ignoring life.
Fernando Pessoa
New Perspective
Reading children’s literature as an adult offers a deeper appreciation of the themes. With more life experience, the nuances feel richer and more impactful. For instance, when I first read “Anne of Green Gables” as a child, I shed a tear or two when Matthew died—it was a deeply sad moment, and Matthew was such a beautifully written character. Revisiting it now, it would not only make me shed tears but also leave a lingering ache in my heart, staying with me long after finishing the book. As an adult who recently experienced a close family member passing, the sense of loss hits much closer to home. It reminds me of life’s impermanence, something I had little understanding of as a child.
To close this off – as I continue to revisit childhood classics, I’m reminded that stories don’t just belong to a specific age—they grow with us. They change, just as we do, revealing new layers and offering comfort, wisdom, or even just a momentary escape from the hectic pace of adult life. And that, to me, is the true magic of books. No matter how old we are, the wonder of reading never fades—it evolves, and I am grateful for every moment spent rediscovering it. So, whether you’re revisiting an old favorite or discovering a new story, I hope you find joy and connection in the pages, just as I do.
There are perhaps no days of our childhood we lived so fully as those we spent with a favorite book
Marcel Proust
