I understand now what it meant but I still hate those books I read.
At such a young age we were full of the joy of life, happy and enjoying the fun of youth. I never have felt those ‘lessons’ were of any use whatsoever except to cause me disgust and depression as I read them.
I especially hated the Red Pony.
I still harbor a resentment of that whole thinking process of the academia. Forced to put into my mind these just awful things, more like poison than art.
I remember reading some Shakespeare as a kid and hating it. But after rereading his plays as a young adult, I enjoyed them. I still hate Titus Andronicus though. Haha!