The Little Prince by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is one of the first books I’ve read. The first time I was about 9 years old and after some pages I left it: I got bored! The second time and the third time: the same! Maybe the fourth time too! I remember I thought: what is that? It’s stupid! It’s a stupid history with a stupid boy! I was just too young. All mothers do the same mistake: think that this is a book for children. I think that this is not a book for children; maybe some of them could like it for his plot, but no one of them can understand this book. Not at 10 years old. So I read this book when I was a little bit older and I loved it. It describes humans with such a simplicity! It shows how stupid humans are. And – the thing I prefer – it’s like the author knows all your defects and attributes them to his characters; so you can find a bit of yourself in all of them if you understand the metaphors.
I read it again last night (it takes just an hour, maybe two) and I think it is a discover every time!
*[…] “I am drinking” answered the drunkard lugubriously. “Why are you drinking?” the little prince asked. “In order to forget”, replied the drunkard. “To forget what?” enquired the little prince, who was already feeling sorry for him. “To forget that I am ashamed” the drunkard confessed, hanging his head. “Ashamed of what?” asked the little prince who wanted to help him. “Ashamed of drinking!” concluded the drunkard, withdrawing into total silence.*
This is my English version, bought in London in 2011 (with Jerome’s books, for the same reason -.-)
This is my Italian version, given to me by my best friend to replace the one that never came back to me (an ancient and wonderful version).
Jerome Klapka Jerome was born in Walsall in 1859 and he died in Northampton in 1927. He was an English humorous writer, famous for his book “Three Men in a Boat (To Say Nothing of the Dog)”.
I read Three Men in a Boat and Three Men on the Bummel and I found them wonderful!
When I was 10 years old my italian teacher said to me and my classmates that English people had a different sense of humor: finer and that arouses just a smile, while here in Italy we used to laugh out loud. I thought that English people weren’t as funny as us and I was really sorry for them!
After some years I read Three Men in a Boat, an English humor book.
I swear that I’ve never laughed so much reading a book!
So I asked myself: was my teacher wrong or the British mention just a smile reading this book while I’m laughing out loud?
I was younger but I found this book too much funny and also today I remember it as the most humorous book I ever read.
(I’m going to read it again to see if I find it as funny as before.)
I suggest everyone to read it to spend time having fun.
Three Men in a Boat is about three man (obviously!) and Montmorency the dog that, between laments and pain, decided to take a boat trip along the Thames. Even the simplest situations become incredible adventures of the four travelers (the dog is definitely my favourite!).
Three Men on a Bummel is the sequel of the first. The three man, a little bit older, decided to do travel for men only and the idea is a biking tour in Germany.
Beginning of Three Men in a Boat
“THERE WERE FOUR OF US – George, and William Samuel Harris, and myself, and Montmorency. We were sitting in my room, smoking, and talking about how bad we were – bad from a medical point of view I mean, of course. We were all feeling seedy, and we were getting quite nervous about it. Harris said he felt such extraordinary fits of giddiness come over him at time, that he hardly knew what he was doing; and then George said the he had fits of giddiness too, and hardly knew what he was doing. With me, it was my liver that was out of order. I knew it was my liver that was out of order, because I had just been reading a patent liver-pill circular, in which were detailed various symptoms by which a man could tell when his liver was out of order. I had them all. It is a most extraordinary thing, but I never read a patent medicine advertisement without being impelled to the conclusion that I am suffering from the particular disease therein dealt with in its most virulent form.”
This is my English version, bought in London in 2011. (I lent my Italian version and it never returned to me! So I suggest: never lend books)