Excuse my excessive French. This post is not suitable for children. Oh the irony.
The Little Prince is the greatest fucking children’s book. EVER. I fucking love this book. Antoine de Saint-Exupéry is a fucking bawce for writing this. Ugh. So. Fucking. Genius.
You could read this book at different chapters in your life and you’ll get something new from it every time. I read this for the first time in elementary school and it was the first book that I could relate to. The little prince is one curious little bugger. Honestly if curious George wasn’t a monkey and wasn’t manhandled by a dude in a yellow jumpsuit all the time then I might be able to relate with that book too or if Clifford wasn’t a big ass red dog… then maybe. But seriously, where the hell did Clifford sleep? What did he eat? How did anyone clean up his shit? It must have been huge. There are too many unanswered questions. I digress.
Where The Wild Things Are comes to a close second, but The Little Prince exudes such a magical tone, for me, I get the same feeling as when I watch Judy Garland’s The Wizard Oz and Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope. There’s an unexplainable magic to them.
I re-read The Little Prince a handful of times through my years and every time I read it, the rabbit hole goes deeper and deeper. I wouldn’t be surprised if I find Alicewandering around in a hidden chapter the next time I decide to read it. There were multiple film adaptations throughout the 60’s and 70’s from France, Hong Kong, and Japan, but all failed to capture the beauty of Saint-Exupery’s literature. He’s able to somehow tap into our childlike imagination and let that rusty wheel turn.
If you’ve never read this book, you need to go read it NOW. It’ll change your life. For reals.