In my nearly fifteen years of life, I have read a good deal of literature. I can recall from my unconscious the many titles I have read without great difficulty, yet there are a few novels that, upon recollection, produce a certain nostalgia the others lack. One of these is Orson Scott Card’s Ender’s Game.

In retrospect, I find it problematic to discern the source of my enthrallment with this work. Neither Ender’s Game nor its author will not be remembered as comparable to Shakespeare, Twain, Tolstoy, or the writings of that lot, but it I believe it is a fundamental piece of literature to the young adult of this age.

I read Ender’s Game in some of the most jubilant and prosperous days of my life thus far, a circumstantial factor that likely influences my opinion of the work. Yet I feel that almost any reader would be able to connect with and place himself or herself in the context of Ender’s Game as easily as I did. Continue reading →