I read "The Little Prince", 1943 by Antoine De Saint-Exupéry so young, I only recalled the famous cover. I know it is an everlasting classic and expected to enjoy re-learning it. I'm mystified by how engrossed I became from the first sentence. It is positive, rife with bright emotion but all at once engaging, quirky, and clear. It equally manages to make sense for modern day life.
Some call this a book of metaphors but I disagree. A writer has influences, a message to impart, and connections can surely be made to other things. That doesn't mean symbols were contrived for readers to guess. This is one novel that is if nothing else, direct: like The Little Prince was portrayed. Friends of mine might woefully find similarities in me, who never speaks rhetorically but seeks a reply! This is a almost a fairytale, urging us to see stars laughing. Instead of probing double-entendres, I accepted the world's parameters as presented: a string of sole-occupant planets with space for a house or a desk. Fiction often incorporates facts and thus a child learns how asteroids are named and that the size of worlds varies greatly.
The futility of alcoholism is broached differently from cautionary videos, in a gentle manner that is effective. Because the pilot and prince chat about human basics, everyone gets something out of this; like creativity not being less important than mathematics. The most profoundly struck chord, describes people in my life who discuss finances and training, instead of hopes and what it is that makes you, YOU. Other than the snake portion, turning these pages was an uplifting respite. That Antoine perished in a plane too soon after publication to see his book's effects, is as lamentable as no longer receiving his tender literary and illustrative gifts.