**** ----------- 'You do understand that the Little Prince died?' my mother asked as carefully and gently as only adults who know that loss of innocence can be crushing but is brutally necessary can do. Back then, I decided to read the author's biography instead as a distraction from the thoughts that were trying to be a bit more grown-up than my heart cared for - I was the odd kid of a literature teacher mother, after all - just to learn that just after writing this book, Antoine de Saint Exupery died when flying his plane in a war to liberate his country, killed by adults who played a game of war, too dangerous and cruel. I learned the comfort and longing of nostalgia, the fear of the crushing burden of loneliness, the understanding of fragile beauty of the world that can be so easily taken away at any moment. And that hasn't much improved my opinion of them." Now, reading this intensely lyrical and mesmerizing book written by an ailing middle-aged adult far away from the country he loved in the middle of war-torn years, I am confronted with emotions that ruthlessly hurt, hidden in the deceiving simplicity of a (supposedly) children's story just like an elephant was hidden inside a boa constrictor - or was it simply a hat all along? It's for adults who remember being children and feel nostalgia for the simple comfort of childhood innocence but know they can never go back to it. Perhaps I am a little like the grown-ups.
In Twilight, what color was Edward's car?" "I don't know," said the Little Prince. "I have never read this book Twilight." "I think it was blue," said the man. In Twilight, who joined the Cullen family first?" "I told you," said the Little Prince, "that I haven't read this book. I would very much like to read it." "It is the stupidest book ever written!" said the man. "In Twilight, what color was Edward's car?" "I believe you said silver?" answered the Little Prince politely.
Maybe you won't think that--maybe you'll have your own take on the book---that's the magic about it. If you understand and/or appreciate French, the deliciousness of that fact can affect you in addition to the sweet storyline itself.
le petit prince est ce livre pour moi. c'est ma rose.
Therefore, I decided simply to share my experience of reading/listening to the book with my daughter along with a couple of thoughts on the concepts discussed in the story and hope that you can take something useful from it. So as part of our nightly routine, my youngest daughter, Sydney, and I have daddy/princess read time. The other night, she and I listened to the audio version of The Little Prince while we read along with a copy of the book. BTW, from Sydney's point of view, 4 stars is the absolute ceiling for any book dealing with ickies like boys and this would easily earn 5 stars had the story been called the "The Little Princess." Princes are still second class citizens at this stage in her life...and Dad is oh, oh, OH so perfectly fine with that).
I remember, when I was little, I had this round CD case and it contained an audiobook. Anyway, the audiobook was titled The Little Prince, and I listened to it quite often. Maybe my mom gave it away.) Rereading this brought up nostalgia and melancholia.
After leaving the service, in 1923, Saint-Exupéry worked in several professions, but in 1926 he went back to flying and signed on as a pilot for Aéropostale, a private airline that flew mail from Toulouse, France, to Dakar, Senegal. He then moved briefly to Buenos Aires to oversee the establishment of an Argentinean mail service; when he returned to Paris in 1931, he published Night Flight, which won instant success and the prestigious Prix Femina. In 1938 he was seriously injured in a second plane crash, this time as he tried to fly between New York City and Tierra del Fuego, Argentina. At the beginning of the Second World War, Saint-Exupéry flew reconnaissance missions for France, but he went to New York to ask the United States for help when the Germans occupied his country.