While studying philosophy as an undergrad, I took a seminar on Friedrich Nietzsche. What followed could be described as a mild infatuation. I even drew a portrait of the infamous atheist philosopher, signature bushy mustache and all. Some girls I knew had celebrity crushes; I had my emotionally unstable artistic and intellectual geniuses, from van Gogh to our favorite German philologist.

Perhaps part of what contributed to my fascination was that he was misunderstood and had an edgy reputation. He was an intellectual bad boy and consequently an intriguing topic for conversation. I enjoyed explaining to people why Nietzsche wasn’t the amoral Nazi he is often made out to be. Many seemed to find these nerd rants interesting. I frequently called my mother and excitedly told her about what I was learning in my seminar. (READ MORE: Critics of Lolita Need to Learn How to Read Fiction)

To my surprise, my mom was perturbed by my most recent intellectual hobby horse. She wasn’t impressed with my assurances that a good Christian could still benefit from Nietzsche’s writings. After all, this was the philosopher who infamously announced, “God is dead and we have killed him.” Although this proclamation was a lament over the West’s departure from its time-honored moral system and not a battle cry, Nietzsche still proposed finding meaning in life without Christ and my dear mother had difficulty getting over that.

It was at this point that she made up her mind that I needed some intervention. My birthday was only a couple of months after the semester ended and she presented me with the entire box set of The Little House on the Prairie series.

Knowing full well what she was up to, I smiled, graciously accepted the gift, and went back to reading Crime and Punishment or whatever other dark and depressing literature I was into at the time. I was a scholar. I only read deep, thought-provoking stuff. While I appreciated my mother’s intentions, I only had so much time, and reading Little House books was not on the agenda.

Children’s Literature, Like Little House, Can Be a Welcome Reprieve

Sometime later, while going through a difficult period in my life, I found the box and cracked open one of Laura Ingalls Wilder’s Little House novellas. I was hooked and read every single one. With its gently colored illustrations, simple prose, and wholesome values, I found the series the very nourishment my spirit needed. My mom was right. One cannot subsist on hardcore philosophy alone.

So many lessons abounded in those books. The beautiful relationship between Ma and Pa Ingalls was a stellar example of sacrifice and mutual appreciation. Ma lived her stoic philosophy in times of hardship with such inspiring wisdom and perseverance, stating, “This earthly life is a battle…If it isn’t one thing to contend with, it’s another. It always has been so, and it always will be. The sooner you make up your mind to that, the better off you are, and more thankful for your pleasures.”

Similarly, I was deeply moved by the Ingalls family’s abundant gratitude for the simple things in life. Focusing on the hard but simple tasks of planting food, doing chores, and supporting a family is a breath of fresh air in today’s world that makes life so extra, so complicated. (READ MORE: A Sacred Peace: The Promise and Perils of Localism)

Frankly, reading Little House on the Prairie changed my life. It molded my perspective and taught me life lessons the other books I was reading could not.

To this day I remain an avid reader of classics from Platonic dialogues to Russian novels, but I’ve since branched out to children’s literature. The Chronicles of Narnia became the topic of my master’s thesis. Peter Pan is, in my opinion, one of the most profound novels ever written. Anne of Green Gables is an unparalleled delight. Little Women and The Secret Garden are replete with practical wisdom and morality. Carry On, Mr. Bowditch is an essential tale of perseverance and a hunger for an education.

I still appreciate Nietzsche’s writings, including his prophetic foresight that a moral system severed from its theistic roots couldn’t last, but I also appreciate my mother’s sagacity in introducing me to the world of children’s classics, which provided wisdom and a wholesome break from this often bleak world.

Recently there has been a wonderful renewal of interest in the classics. Many are interested in reading books their schools failed to teach them. Podcasts centering on the classics such as Oxford scholar Spencer Klavan’s Young Heretics have gained thousands of followers. While this is all great, it is easy to be caught up, as I once was, in only reading books that make one seem “smart.” Sadly, this means children’s literature is often passed over. After all, it’s less likely that reading Little House on the Prairie will impress academic crowds the same way reading War and Peace or Plato’s Phaedo will.

It’s Not to Late to Discover Children’s Literature

Despite the lack of attention from scholars, there is a growing movement maintaining that education should teach the heart as well as the mind. Homeschool curriculums such as The Good and the Beautiful, Well-Educated Heart, and Simply Charlotte Mason focus on building children’s characters by exposing them to beautiful, wholesome art and literature. But adults should nurture their hearts and characters as well. Reading children’s literature is an effective but often overlooked way to do this.

As intellectually stimulating and beneficial as classics for adults are, it’s no secret that they often tend to be depressing. While literature can confront dark realities in meaningful, insightful ways, repeatedly reading titles such as Tess of the d’Urbervilles can eventually become emotionally taxing. At times it is refreshing to read something innocent yet substantial. Treating oneself to a book like Peter Pan, with its whimsical sense of humor but thought-provoking meditations on growing up, can be a great way to continue to think and learn while taking a break from heavy material.

C. S. Lewis wrote, “Since it is so likely that [children] will meet cruel enemies, let them at least have heard of brave knights and heroic courage. Otherwise you are making their destiny not brighter but darker.” While much of adult novels feature cruel enemies, children’s literature is robust with optimism. The need for uplifting messages and heroes is often overlooked. Adults need them as much as children do. (READ MORE: Practicing Virtue Will Definitely Make You Happier)

Unfortunately, a lot of us missed out on literature that could be formative as children. But it’s not too late. When constructing your reading list, don’t limit yourself to erudite works that’ll impress your peers, and season it with some good children’s literature.

Meg Marie Johnson graduated with her master’s in English at BYU. She writes adaptations of classics for children and young adult social satire.