I was thinking about making a reading list for my daughter when she gets older – something wholesome and absent of Satanism.
So I started reading this book that I was introduced to about a decade ago—Anne of Green Gables. I visited Prince Edward Island in Canada and saw the house where the author (Lucy Montgomery) grew up. It was a quaint little place, still stuck in the 1800s.
The book is ok, basically. Kind of an Oliver Twist type story, only for young girls: i.e. the orphan who succeeds against all odds. She might like it. Although she’s not an orphan, so maybe not. We tend to relate more to characters that are similar to ourselves.
Perhaps it’s better to not expose children to fiction. It could give them false ideas about the true nature of humanity. For example, happy endings don’t always happen (unless you pay $50 at a Korean massage parlor).
Better to do as Benjamin Franklin’s father did—only expose children to fact(s) in their formative years. That way they don’t become addicted to fairytales and fantasies.