Yesterday being the kids’ last day of school, and a half-day at that, we kicked off our summer vacation with — what else? — a trip to the library. We signed up for the summer reading program. Joey, my oldest, is officially a middle-schooler now, which meant that he qualified for the teen program. (“But he’s only 11,” I wailed. The librarian shook her head sympathetically, but insisted that for summer reading program purposes my son was now a teen.)

Anyway, Lena, my second third grader, was in desperate need of Oz books. While she browsed among the Baums I moseyed a little farther down the aisle and happened upon the Babbits, the Natalie Babbits, and among them was The Search for Delicious. I immediately snatched it off the shelf and slipped it in the middle of Lena’s stack. My plan was just to leave it there for her to find and read on her own but as soon as we got home I succumbed to temptation. I sat Daniel down in front of the latest PMK video (remember his obsession?), retrieved the book from Lena’s stack, and finished it in time for dinner.

What can I say about The Search for Delicious? If you haven’t read it yet, or if you (like me) remember loving it as a kid but don’t remember the actual story, you simply must get yourself a copy of this lovely little book. I don’t want to say too much about the plot, but I will share some random thoughts I had while reading.

First thought: The book reminds me a bit of The Phantom Tollbooth, but where Tollbooth is raucous and rowdy, Delicious is gentle and tender. What they share, though, is playful language. For example, listen to the Mayor: “It’s possible that, on the whole, part of it could be an overall undercurrent of dissatisfaction. If the King lies down on the job, the people will stand to gain a loss of confidence in him. Mark my words, in the end it will be the beginning of trouble!” Isn’t that just charming? And, like Phantom, this book doesn’t just happen to contain playful language. It’s quite deliberate. The slipperiness of words is what this book is about.

Second thought: The illustrations in this book are exquisite. And dammit, they were made by the author herself. A double whammy! In fact, not just the illustrations but the book design as well, perfectly reflects the tenderness of the story.

Third thought: The King’s Prime Minister is a sweet, loving, good guy. Isn’t that unusual? In all the other stories, the Prime Minister, Advisor, Grand Vizier, etc., is the bad guy. (Think Wormtongue.) What a pleasant surprise!

Fourth thought: The bad guy in this story, with the lovely evocative name of Hemlock, has an interesting characteristic. He is the one adult in the entire kingdom who believes in the existence of fey creatures like mermaids and dwarves and woldwellers. Because of this I could not hate him.

Fifth thought: Hemlock is just one of many characters with lovely evocative names. The Mayor’s daughter is named Medley. The little old lady is Mrs. Copse. And the Prime Minister? His name, ha ha, is DeCree.

Sixth thought: Although there is something poignant in the very concept of a mermaid, the one in this story takes the cake. You could not imagine a sweeter, sadder creature.

Looking over what I just wrote, I see the adjectives lovely, tender, gentle, charming, sweet, poignant. That’s what this book is. Read it, and by the time you finish you’ll feel like you just had a drink of cool water when you were very, very thirsty.

[Updated 6/19/07: Lena read it today, practically in a single sitting. At one point she said, "Mom, I'm so sorry I didn't clean the bathroom sink like I was supposed to, but this book sucked me in like a suction cup!"]