Owl Babies. Vomit, vomit, vomit. Twee as anything, cruddy illustrations and nothing happens. DH was reading to our 6mo DS with disbelief tonight, not having read it before.
I'm with whoever slated the "That's not my..." books. I'm sure the author is lovely but I'm afraid the copy of "That's not my Santa" we got for Xmas is just crap. "That's not my Santa, his beard is too fluffy" or something. WTF?
Trefusis, eurrrrgh. I think I remember the wolf but had forgotten it until now (ta!). A relative gave us her "Mother Goose" or somesuch from her own childhood and it has so many gruesome rhymes in it. "Who Killed Cock Robin" isn't the half of it. Brrr.
Any book that is more about shifting product than enjoying reading.
I loved Noggin the Nog books when I was tiny (apparently) and have recently seen the TV series. My goodness, but it's dull. Tiny Vikings toddling around having adventures that all seem to end in eating hot buttered toast. But I am sure that is exactly why I loved it as a child.
Doesn't Beatrix Potter contain some horrors? I am sure that domestic violence occurs in the Tale of Two Bad Mice. But I loved the Tailor of Gloucester and The Tale of Mrs Tiggywinkle.
We also love "Peepo" for the period detail in the illustrations and DS likes chewing it and sticking his hand through the hole in the page. And DH loves the Gruffalo as he does the voices like various celebrities. Fox is Ringo Starr, the Gruffalo is Brian Blessed and Owl is Noel Coward. Not sure who Snake's supposed to be but whoever it is, his dentures don't fit.