I finished reading issue #4 of Dorothy last night and had my mind completely blown. I know the Wizard of Oz story - I read the first book in the Oz series when I was in elementary school and a few of the others later. And of course the movie was an annual event on tv (followed always with nightmares about that damn Margaret Sullivan, may she rest in peace.) My least favorite character was the Scarecrow; he just didn't seem to have much of a story. Well, all of that has changed for me now. The guys behind Dorothy have given the Scarecrow an amazing backstory, it is beyond sad and horrific and so perfect - so blessedly perfect for the darkness and grimness that is Oz - that I can't hardly believe it. If you know anyone who is a fan of the Oz world, this book is a must. I think they are collecting the first few issues in a trade soon - but just buying the individual issues is fine. It is not the Judy Garland Dorothy, it is hipper, edgier and certainly contemporary. But man, it is fantastic.

I really really love this book!

I realized last night that I have somehow strangley found myself on an Oz kick. There is the comic of course, but Ray had a very good essay in his latest book comparing Oz to Wonderland (where he suggests that Oz is a more hopeful and optimistic place - boy would he be changing his mind!) I have always been a fan of both Alice and Dorothy but he is right; the inhabitants of Wonderland are very screwed up and seem to like it that way, whereas the folks in Oz want to change things for the better. (Don't even get me started on the stoned caterpillar - what was the point of that guy - other than to make adults lie to us about what he was smoking!) I also just read and reviewed The Year's Best Science Fiction and Fantasy for Teens which had a lot of great short stories but there was one in particular that struck me as brilliant - Displaced Persons by Leah Bobet. In just three pages she addresses what happened to the winged monkeys after the Wicked Witch of the West was killed. It is a jewel of a story, very horrible, very sad, but also quite hopeful. And it doesn't seem to be so much about monkeys either. I didn't know beans about Bobet until I read this story but I am mightily impressed. The whole collection is great though, one of the truly cool books I have received as a reviewer. (And long overdue for a teen audience!)

I actually have Gregory Maguire's Wicked sitting in my To Be Read Pile. I received it as a Christmas gift last year and it has sadly languished as I tackled all who came before it. (But there is light at the end of that tunnel, baby!) I have not always had the best of luck with Maguire - I think his ideas are great, but I sometimes feel like I'm not "getting" the story, if that makes any sense - like he is cleverer than I am or something. But Wicked is here and the gods seem to want me in an Ozian mood, so I'm thinking I will be giving it a shot as soon as I am done with The Boys of Summer. And by the way - if you don't know about it already and need me to tell you, Boys is one outstanding sports book and something that every fan of baseball should own. I read last night about Carl Furillo and Ray Campanella and so much of it broke my heart. I really hate to say "those were the good old days" because times will change and that is a fact. But why our heroes now are men who try to explain away their steriod use, I will never understand. The game is not what it used to be and what we have now, for sure, is not better.

And why in the hell is Gil Hodges not in the Hall of Fame?!

Today was Bonnie Raitt although my husband said it was bringing him down (not a big blues fan) and slid some Motley Crue on for awhile. It was a good mix so I'm not complaining. A little Dr. Feelgood never hurt anybody, after all, and the little guy got both blues and rock in today so that's all good.

Finally, something not good - Nicole Ritchie's book reads exactly as you would expect it too - I'd love to hear someone explain to me just why in the world trees had to die for this.

It is official people, the world is going to hell in a handbasket.