Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
Image 1 of 1
I laughed out loud at Mac Barnett’s literary exploration of what good children’s literature is not — a playful dismantling that leads, almost magically, to a clearer sense of what good children’s literature is. It’s a lively, witty debate about joy, art, and the way children hold up a mirror to the world that adults are not meant to share. The whole thing reads like a terrific New Yorker essay, with the same sharpness and charm as Lemony Snicket’s Poison for Breakfast: a nonsensical argument delivered with such faithfulness and delight that you can’t deny being wiser for having read it. —Stacy
I laughed out loud at Mac Barnett’s literary exploration of what good children’s literature is not — a playful dismantling that leads, almost magically, to a clearer sense of what good children’s literature is. It’s a lively, witty debate about joy, art, and the way children hold up a mirror to the world that adults are not meant to share. The whole thing reads like a terrific New Yorker essay, with the same sharpness and charm as Lemony Snicket’s Poison for Breakfast: a nonsensical argument delivered with such faithfulness and delight that you can’t deny being wiser for having read it. —Stacy