None of the books I read as a child, and in turn read and introduced to the next two generations made me cringe, then, or now.
What makes me cringe are the folk who view everything through today’s understandings, find the past so wanting they need to erase it completely, or censor it so the original is often lost, and often therefore, the magic.
What makes me cringe is rhe proliferation of books for children so set on a moralistic ‘learning journey’ that fun and wonder are absent.
And what makes me cringe is hearing/reading stats about the increasing number of young people not finding joy in reading.
And I cringe at the demise of the simple pleasure of reading for enjotment.
Indeed we’ve come ‘far’ – into a world of increasing preachiness where everything we do is judged against other people’s, often censorious, definition of worthiness.
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