Unlike so many others, I wasn't forced to read this when I was younger. On the other hand, I read it voluntarily. And I loved it. This book is actually one of my dearest childhood memories, as I remember being completely enchanted by Huck Finn's naivity and simplicity, and his way of stumbling upon an adventure on every streetcorner. I used to dream of running away and living on a raft.
But alas! Sometimes you should just leave things as you remember them, and never try to live your fond memories over again. Because as it turns out Huckleberry Finn doesn't hold as many astonishing adventures for me now, as it did back then. Somehow I have grown out of it. And that makes me sad.
Perhaps it's just because I read it at a bad time; with my head all filled up with worries about paying bills and studying for exams. Or perhaps it's because I have just finished "Tom Sawyer" for the first time, and found a new adventurous boy to love. Or perhaps it is just yet another book that has lost some of its magic as time has went by, and brushed my childhood dreams away. I do not know. I can only guess.