I read Tolkien's Lord of the Rings for the first time in 1959, indirectly clued in by my wife-to-be (I met her two years later). I was very excited by the books and took them to camp with me, for my very first paid counselor job. Our campers were nine-year-olds, and after about a week of listening to LotR as a bedtime story, they let me know in no uncertain terms that they wanted a real story, not this fairy-tale hobbitish stuff. I complied and switched to more standard fare.
Those campers probably have kids of their own now, maybe even grandkids, and I bet they tell them, "I learned about the Lord of the Rings in 1959!"
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