This morning I am spending reading the Finnish translation of Naondel (I write in Swedish). It's a bit melancholy, as most Finns have today off, and Finnish vacations tend to start today. I have 370 pages to get through, and as I read verrrry slowly in Finnish I don't see much of a vacation in the coming weeks for me. Why do I write such long books??

However last night this review was tweeted at me, and it is helping me stay motivated. Actually, it's so glowing I almost feel embarrassed, but I try to internalize at least a little bit of the praise.

The whole is a triumph and, I feel, a most important book. I am including it in my short list of works which I consider the very finest examples of contemporary children's writing, rivalling the 'modern classics' from the twentieth century.

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