All I’ve read is Tuck Everlasting, which I picked up when it was new, even though I was past youngster reading age, because it was so celebrated. And it’s all that and a Fountain of Youth. Read it if you haven’t. My strongest feeling while going through it was that it was such an innately valuable and necessary work and how much I wished it had been around for me when I was just beginning to read. I was terrified and obsessed by death, not so much mine as my parents’, since they were so much older than the other parents I knew, particularly my Dad. It’s left me with weird, panicky moments of feeling abandoned to this day. Tuck Everlasting, given my bottomless love for books as long as I can remember, would have been balm for the soul.