Reviews by tillyl99

I love this book, with all its wise innocence and profound earthy charm. This is not the cheerful, humorous talking-animals fable it presents itself as. Without being heavy-handed on the moral-of-the-story (as so many well-meaning children's authors tend to) Mr. White has delivered, modestly and graciously, a loving homage to this beautiful, messy, miracle we call life--from the migrating swallows to the spit-bug, from the ecstatic wonder of hatching eggs to the explosive mortification of a rotten one, from changing maple leaves to the rats (yes, even rats!) in the walls to growing girls beginning to forget kids' games and notice how remarkable Henry Fussy is.

The story about the little guy and the baker and the wheel barrow broke my heart and traumatized me for life but I do relish guilting mom for reading it to me. And my edition has beautiful pictures. I also respect it for making me remember it forever.

Every time I read this wonderful story, it's like catching up with an old friend. I've read this particular Narnia book so many different times, but it never ever gets old. I love the fact that I can pick up this (or any of the other Narnia books, for that matter) and step into a whole other world. I also particularly enjoyed the fact that I found that I could relate with each one of the children, although I must say that I was partial to Lucy! Additionally, I love the role Aslan plays in this book because I think the ultimate sacrifice that he chooses to make shows how innately good he is. Even though this book is an easy read for me now at 17, this is one of those kinds of stories that you can never grow too old for. I really liked the line C.S. Lewis wrote in his dedication: "But some day you will be old enough to start reading fairy tales again." Isn't that the truth? Overall, I'd definitely have to call this a classic that everyone should read at some point or another.

Dorothy is actually a dumpy, doughy backwater farmgirl in this book. She would have grown into a stout, strong-limbed muscular farmers’ wife with no time for things like affection or intercourse, but a damn good head for cornshuckin’ at 99 degrees in the hawt Kansassy summer. So the well-worn epithet ‘no place like home’ is of course a vicious ironic phrase meaning ‘shit, you’d better get outta that backwater Kansas wheat paddy before stupidity, indolence, routine, depression and phenobarbital addiction kills the love inside ya, never mind them talkin’ lions and kooky tinmen honey.’ Having said that, I haven’t read the follow-up novels. Maybe she marries a millionaire. Just further proof that adulthood spoils everything and we peak as humans at thirteen. This was my first time with this novel. Perfect little story, beautifully done.