The Popculturist takes a nostalgic look at a classic children’s fantasy novel, The Neverending Story.
My copy of The Neverending Story is getting a bit worse for wear. The dust jacket has long since been lost, and the lettering and imprinted design on the rust-colored cover are barely visible. The binding has stiffened and the pages are becoming brittle. None of which is terribly surprising, considering that I’ve had it for 24 years, and have read it at least a dozen times.
Like a lot of people of my generation, my introduction to The Neverending Story came via the 1984 film, which immediately became a favorite and went on to become a staple film in my young life. My mom bought a copy of the book a couple of years later — initially it was for her, but it’s been mine ever since I saw it lying on a windowsill where she’d left it. Like The Lord of the Rings, it grabbed a hold of me from the first and I’ve been returning to it ever since.
I love this book. I love the feeling of nostalgia I get when I read it, remembering all the nights I stayed up late as a kid to finish just one more chapter. I love that even having read it so many times, it never feels stale to me. I love that at 31 it still gives me the same rush of adventure and imagination and wonder that it did when I was seven. I love the way it invites you to tell your own stories.
What struck me the most as I was reading it this time is that I can’t wait for my son to be old enough for me to read this with him. As I turned the pages, I imagined the look on his face when he hears about Uyulala, the Southern Oracle, or Bastian’s adventure with Grograman, the Many-Colored Death. I even thought about what sort of voices and accents to try with each of the characters. My only worry is that he might learn to read early enough that by the time he’s mature enough for this story he’d rather read it on his own than have me read it to him. I know what I was like at seven, and in so many ways he seems to be on the same track I was when I was his age.
But we’ll leave that problem for when or if it comes. For now, I’ll just savor the anticipation. Because if he really is like me, then my son is absolutely going to flip for this book.