I’m a middle-aged dude, and The King and Nothing feels like a great illustrated book that I had forgotten about. It’s that book you used to spend hours looking at the pictures, unconsciously learning the sight words and getting lost in a book in a beanbag chair. You were five-to-seven years old and learning to love to read, but you probably weren’t calling it that then. Sometimes books like this come across our desk. In a very polite, unassuming manner, they speak to us as if they’re a character from Wallace and Gromit and ask us to read it.


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