While slaving away at my day job I often happen upon children’s books. To be completely honest I think most of them are rubbish and that I could write a better book in my lunch break, even in my coffee break. Some are so terrible I could do better on a loo break. How hard can it be? You think of a quirky character with a bit of alliteration in the name – Harry the Horse for example (I totally just made that up) and then you put this character in some magical land – e.g. Unicorn Land. Now give him a problem – he’s a horse and everyone else is a Unicorn. I mean, come on I just made that up as I wrote it in about ten seconds.
But sometimes a children’s book comes along that is just like – oh, wow. The Fantastic Flying Books of Mr Morris Lessmore is one of those books. It’s beautiful on so many levels. The illustrations are lovely and the story is so sweet and inspiring, I just wanted to run home and work on my novel after reading it. It’s rare that a “picture book” has any effect on me at all and I just loved the sentiment in this book so much I felt compelled to share it here even though it has nothing to do with time travel. Oooooh, or does it?!
Fantastic. Five stars. x