So, I basically love reading everything. Literally everything. YA, contemporary, mystery, thriller, non fiction, literary fiction - but my honest to God first love with books is classics.
Although when I’ve got a huge TBR to tackle I tend to stay with quick, easy books, most of them new releases, I have a few classics that I keep going back to and that are easy to understand and always keep me engaged.
This is hands down one of my favourite books of all time. I was about 11 when I first read it, and I was struck by how normal Jane was, and how raw her emotions were. Because the narrative starts off when Jane is still a child, the language is much simpler, and only becomes slightly more complex when she reaches adulthood. The characters are well defined, the story is dramatic and iconic, and the feminist MC makes this a book I can just fly through in a couple of sittings.
Sense and Sensibility
Although I do love Pride and Prejudice, this Austen work is one that I completely fell in love with when I read it a few years ago. As it’s slightly lesser known than P&P, the plot is more of a surprise than expected and has wonderfully sassy female leads. Austen generally is very easy to understand and read given the time period in which she was writing, but the stories and characters are still wonderfully complex and engaging.
The Picture of Dorian Grey
Basically the gayest book ever written, with a wonderfully conceited MC. The writing is beautiful and poetic, but Wilde never obscures his meaning with over flowery language, only adds to it. Although the text is more dense than some of the others on this list, the book is much shorter with (sometimes) better pacing.
Although this is such an iconic book with a constantly referenced premise (Big Brother, anyone?), the plot is still thrilling and surprising, with succinct but well crafted prose. As it’s set in what designed to be a dystopian future, it’s so easy to get lost in the sinister society Orwell creates in this surprisingly short book.
Despite being a fairly hefty book, because this novel is aimed at a younger audience the language and plot are a breeze to get through. I adored this book when I was still in primary and I adore it even more now; I immediately connected with all the sisters, and their first Christmas in the book is so pure and lovely that this is such an escapist book to me. What I love is that it’s not all twee, either - tragedy does strike, and the drama is so real and personal.
stuffs cotton candy in his face like stop being sad
❛❛ What are you— ❜❜ Yoshiwara had always been a rather STRANGE man. He had far different values in life than Katsuie. After all, what sort of person suggested playing video games during the school-year? There was too much WORK to do, to allow time for such activities. And Yoshiwara’s ideas of ghost stories were rather…disappointing. But this was UNEXPECTED behavior even from him.
Trying to speak turned out to be a MISTAKE on Katsuie’s part. Cotton candy was shoved inside, leaving a sugary-sweet taste as it invaded his mouth. He choked a bit and jerked his head back, trying to turn away from the fluffy, sticky confection. He had NEVER taken a liking to sweets—he had always preferred healthier, simpler foods. ( Fish, rice, and vegetables were among his favorites. ) But he was certain that anyone would have dislike having cotton candy SHOVED in their face.
His hands reached out to push away the spun sugar, but the DAMAGE had been done. Particles of cotton candy clung to the high school student’s face, neck, and hair. Pulling his hands back, Katsuie found that they were also COVERED in the confection. Rubbing them together did nothing to help remove the sticky candy. Giving up, Katsuie held his hands at his sides, careful to avoid touching his clothes. He had no wish to spread the cotton candy FURTHER than it had already landed. He focused his gaze back to Yoshiwara.
❛❛ If there was a goal that you had in mind for this action…I do not believe that you accomplished it. ❜❜ His gaze then fell, his mouth curling into a FROWN. He did not have the strength of will to scold the other man for what he had done. After all, what good were his words? They could not stop Yoshiwara from acting as he PLEASED.
Sarah Williams, since her permanent establishment in the Underground, was treated just as the queen you’d expect Jareth to marry. She was catered to, hand and foot; her food was prepared for her as she saw fit, even her clothes tailored and ironed daily. It was a wife’s dream, so one thought. Pampered to the heavens and back, she was!
But, although she sought to appreciate all of these grand gestures from the King, she could not revel in them. Pomp and polished were not the style of Sarah Williams, nor would it ever be. Instead, she chose the simpler clothing most days, that of cotton, whose outfits consisted of pant and shirt combinations, much akin to riding, or generally sportier choices. She chose the outdoors over biding her time reading all day within the confines of the castle, often running through the woods in search of trinkets to adorn in shadow boxes she would make for her bedroom walls. Sarah hated, hated, hated being cooped up all day. It near drove her mad, and so she explored. It infuriated her wait staff to no end. As for the King? His infuriation knew no boundaries either, and this was much to Sarah’s chagrin.
One morning in particular, just as the dew had begun to settle over the courtyard’s grasses in cloudy masses, Sarah tiptoed out of her bedroom just as she did most mornings, and raced out the door as quiet as a mouse. She scrambled barefoot through the woods, on a mission to find acorns. She’d have to be home in time for breakfast, as Jareth had seen fit the night before to invite a neighboring king and queen for cordialities the next morning, to welcome them to the Underground (how unlike him!). No matter, Sarah crammed caps and nuts alike into the pockets of her nightgown, and carried them when she could fit no more, all the while soiling the cloth’s hem, her hair falling loose from her hair tie to caress her face in the morning breeze.
Some hours later, well into breakfast’s first hour, Sarah returned from her plod in the woods, disheveled and smiling as brightly as ever. She carried handfuls of acorns and caps in through the dining hall, as it was the only way to get to the staircase for her bedroom–Jareth nearly had a fit when he saw her. But all the while, as they walked up the stairs, as he chastised her while she bathed, and oiled, and dressed, she could not help but laugh. Those acorns would wait until the evening–and so would his calm. She loved both.