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As college students, it can be easy to feel like childhood was so long ago. In the midst of class readings, problem sets, and the many other stressors that fill the day, The Harvard Crimson’s Arts Board reflects on the power of a book to bring us back to simpler times, whether it’s a classic beloved by many or a more obscure work of children’s literature.

“The Adventures of Tintin” by Hergé

I loved “The Adventures of Tintin” comics before I could even read. The colorful panes rendered in the approachable ligne claire style enticed me to keep flipping through pages of indecipherable text. Luckily, I could always ask my dad — who had also grown up reading “Tintin,” though decades ago and in Mandarin — to clarify the story. And so this 24-book epic of a young reporter’s globetrotting adventures became primarily relayed through an oral history, rather than a visual one, throughout my childhood. This system came complete with the quirky fusing of various editions (“Milou” versus “Snowy”), media (television adaptations to an eventual movie), and memories.

Last month, I visited The Tintin Shop in London’s Covent Garden. It’s been years since I’ve pored over “Tintin” pages, and specific plotlines are hazy in my mind. I selected a poster of “The Black Island,” purely for the stunning cover art, rather than sentimental attachment to that particular installment. At the register, a fellow customer excitedly shared that he owned the same piece and was now shopping for his second. This brief interaction pulled me back into nostalgia. To me “Tintin” is timeless, a thread between generations, a mooring to revisit and expand upon, like posters collected on a wall.

—Staff writer Jackie Chen can be reached at jackie.chen@thecrimson.com.

“I’m a Manatee” by John Lithgow

One of the first books I remember my mom reading with me — and later reading on my own — is “I’m a Manatee.” It is the story of a little boy turning into a manatee and living beneath the sea with his manatee friends. This story fed my childhood imagination and love of all things aquatic. John Lithgow uses captivating and dynamic language, which still excites my young adult brain as much as it used to thrill me. It felt as though I, too, were “undulating underneath the sea” like a manatee.

The book came with a CD of the original song by the same title, a playful tune that accompanied the witty lyrics of the book. The illustrations are also cozy and detailed, reminding me of sleepy bedtimes long before the days of homework. Manatees are one of my favorite animals to this day — they remind me of this book, of childhood, and of my mom.

—Staff writer Aiden J. Bowers can be reached at aiden.bowers@thecrimson.com.

“I Lost My Dad” by Taro Gomi

When reminiscing on books from my childhood, I immediately texted my dad for ideas, sending him on the trip down memory lane that is our downstairs bookshelf. Among the whopping 31 titles his search produced, only one stood out to me: “I Lost my Dad” by Taro Gomi.

Much like its title, the book’s storyline is nothing short of anxiety-inducing, matching the pace of my overactive, eight-year-old brain. The story chronicles the tale of a youngster who, while browsing toys, becomes separated from his father. This leads the child on a quest for his dad, traversing down escalators, through department stores, and even along the row of urinals in the men’s bathroom.

Coincidentally, what I remember most vividly is how this fiasco of supposed abandonment takes place in a shopping mall. If you know me, you likely know how much I despise shopping malls and other disorienting indoor venues that make me feel like I’m trapped in a rat maze.

While I don’t recall whether my discovery of this book or my mall-phobia came first, I am nearly certain that “I Lost my Dad” both validated and enabled my youthful anxieties.

—Staff writer Lola J. DeAscentiis can be reached at lola.deascentiis@thecrimson.com.

The Magic Tree House series by Mary Pope Osborne

There is something in the Magic Tree House series that is emblematic of childhood wonder. The premise is simple: two siblings, Jack and Annie, discover a magic treehouse and they travel across time periods and continents. The books center around different historical events like the sinking of the Titanic, the disaster at Pompeii, and the American Civil War. When I was young, what captivated me were the rich details and vivid worldbuilding. Each book felt like a window into a life that I could have lived.

Unfortunately, growing up can mean losing some of the ability to suspend disbelief. I can no longer conjure up the same landscapes in my mind. Nevertheless, they’ve left me with a desire to travel and see more of the world, in part to recreate the same rush of adventure they evoked in me as a child. When I see their wrinkled covers at home, they remind me of warm afternoons after school where I would lie on the floor grinning and eating peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, careful not to spill crumbs on my rug as I thumbed through their pages.

—Staff writer Sean Wang Zi-Ming can be reached at sean.wangzi-ming@thecrimson.com.