last night’s bedtime book: Mary Engelbreit’s Mother Goose, by Mary Engelbreit. The subtitle of this book is “One Hundred Best-Loved Verses” but I’m pretty sure there aren’t 100 people worldwide who love some of these nursery rhymes; once you get past the old stand-bys like “Humpty Dumpty” nursery rhymes quickly degenerate into uselessness in my experience.
Nobody’s hiring Engelbreit for her taste in nursery rhymes, though–they want the pictures. You’ll find some neat work with patterns and textures among the gingerbread in this volume, but the most striking thing about Engelbreit’s work is her very shaky grasp of perspective and the vanishing point. For that, and the idea that a compendium of nursery rhymes was a necessary or desirable thing, I have one and a half Pochaccos.