After finishing The Hobbit, we decided that the next Bedtime Book for our Perfect Non-Reader should be a trifle less adventurous. Something sillier, more fun, less scary. So we read Pippi Longstocking.
It turns out that there is a brand-new translation by Tiina Nunnally, which would be interesting to read at some point. We didn’t read that. We read the good old 1947 (or whatever) translation, which now that you think about it, is a trifle clumsy and, for lack of a better word, translationy. Still. It’s so wonderful. And the Perfect Non-Reader loved it. Giggles galore.
We finished Pippi last night, and tonight we start Mrs. Frisbee and the Rats of NIMH. And with that, Your Humble Blogger is at last caught up on the Book Reports. Or I think I am, at any rate. And I’m in the middle of three longish books (the new Laurie R. King, Aubrey’s Brief Lives, and a short but dense disquisition on FDR and the dynamics of public opinion and letter-writing) (oh, and I’ve picked up the Harold Nicolson diaries again, such a surprise), so it may be a few days before I am behind again…
Tolerabimus quod tolerare debemus,