Finally resurfacing from the heap of other childhood favorites I can't bring myself to get rid of, I triumphantly stroll into my little brother's room, bedtime story in hand. "Meg and Mog," written by Helen Nicholl and illustrated by Jan Piekowski, has seen better days. Both covers are cracked and bent. Today leaving a book in such a state would be unheard of, but "Meg and Mog" is from a time when creases didn't bother me. These are creases of love — love for illustrations that still compel me to flip through them whenever a corner of the cover peaks out from my bookcase; love for a story about a witch named Meg and her cat, Mog, who wake up one midnight to get ready for a party. After cooking a hearty breakfast, they set off to meet Meg's friends. They're going to cast a spell and while ultimately it goes wrong that's where the story ends. No panic. No, "my friends have been turned into mice and my cat is chasing them, what do I do?" upsetness. With a slight grimace, Meg hops back on her broom and the story closes on her reaching the reasonable and calm headed conclusion, "I'll have to change them back, next Halloween."
I love this book. Even more, I love sharing it with my brother.
We have two articles this issue that have some literature sharing to do of their own, and if you're me, that means straight to the Amazon Wish List--Lauren's review of Alex Gino's GEORGE and Leslie's account of her clap trip to Steampunk unLimited, where she got the chance to meet and talk with the writers of the series, A Ministry of Peculiar Occurrences.
Both works sound fantastic and I can't wait to find a chance to read them.
Right now, though, I have another book to find — Sylvia Andrews' "Rattlebone Rock," for tomorrow night's bedtime story.
