Why didn’t anyone warn me that once I was free to read whatever I wanted again I would once more be an antisocial loner, and that I’d rather flee to my imaginary world? Even if I had been told it wouldn’t have stopped me, three weeks in Italy is way too long and boring.
I found this while reading back through my drafts. My mum told me off so much this summer because I spent every minute, of every hour, of every day reading, completely ignoring people (she thinks it’s antisocial, rude behaviour). What I don’t think she ever understood was that books to me are the way I flee from reality and feel much happier. I love it when reading, and books become real, and I cry for the characters, and feel their sorrows as if they were mine, and smile with them when they are happy. Yes; I am that kind of reader.
Once again I am not disappointed by Papa G.’s quality of work. It’s funny and outside the box, and best of all it’s not sugar coated; there is no better author out there to highlight the dangers of crocodiles, and I mean it. The child in your life (if like me you pretend to buy these books to read to/with a child) will surely appreciate this, and what better way to get someone into poetry, than with poo-rhymes? They are funny, unique, and each one with a twist that will make them a joy to read.
This marvellous piece of modern literature contains four very entraining little pooems which will blow your mind with their simplicity, deep meaning, and teachings (I am not making this up, there is more to them than the laugh factor inspired by poo). To top it all, the drawings that accompany the stories are superb and compliment the pooems very well. What more do you want me say? Just go buy this nook and you won’t regret it.