In Which Your Humble Blogger is pleased by the Newbery, and by its timing, more or less.
In Which Your Humble Blogger cleverly writes the entire report in unrhymed prose.
In Which Your Humble Blogger explores the lucrative area of crustacean prosthetics.
In Which Your Humble Blogger figures it out in the end.
In Which Your Humble Blogger keeps bursting into tears again.
In Which Your Humble Blogger thinks that this, too, is a period for leaders, but then, when isn’t?
In Which Your Humble Blogger liked the book all right, and so on, but on the other hand, you know, and so on.
In which Your Humble Blogger finds it very difficult to avoid typing ‘night’ instead of ‘nigh’, but I think I’ve got them all now.
In Which Your Humble Blogger may have the right answer, or maybe not.
In Which Your Humble Blogger rattles off some ill-considered judgments, not perhaps technically slanderous.