A couple of days ago I asked if any of you could guess who the author of the 1860′s to 1870′s rags to riches books for boys was.
It was Horatio Alger Jr. If you’ve never read a Horatio Alger book you’ve missed a bit of history.
He was a minister in the Unitarian church and he was booted out for pederasty. Ugh. I only just read that. And now I’m saying, “Oh, now I see why all the little poor boys in the books all found rich men to mentor them. Horatio was playing out a fantasy or being some boy’s Sugar Daddy, maybe.”
And yet I loved those books. There was no hint of improper conduct or abuse in the books. I thought the men were helping the boys because the boys had worked hard and were honest and deserved to be rewarded.
I’d like to read the books over now, as an adult, and see what I think of them. It really ruins books to do that, though. I tried reading a Nancy Drew book once a few years ago and I was so disappointed to find that the writing was so awful. So maybe I’ll just leave Horatio Alger pleasantly residing in my memory.
Of course really good children’s books can be enjoyed at any age. But I’m talking about the ones that aren’t any good but that you loved anyway. Those ones it’s best to leave alone and just enjoy the memories. It’s kind of like going back to a childhood home and seeing how small it is now. It spoils sweet memories.
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