Me and my grandson both are fascinated by dragons. It was inevitable my daughter would give us both toy dragons for Christmas. Both by Fisher-Price; both big and red; and both mechanical or at least battery-powered is some form or other.
I have not gotten to playing with my dragon as my grandson, predictably, appropriated it and all day the living room has resounded to the clash of the dragons as they attack with ferocious power or cooperate for a stealth attack on the castle.
Instead I have been reading the dragon books given to me—with the scarcely concealed intent that I read them to the kids at bedtime.
The first is E. Nesbit’s The Last of the Dragons. This is a collection of dragon stories written some time before 1900. I had heard of the author but not hitherto read her. She is a superb writer of wry humour and snooty grace.
The second is the superbly illustrated The Paper Dragon. The illustrations are by Robert Sabuda and the book is worth the illustrations alone. The prose is trite, tired, and unimaginative. Too politically correct to be worth wasting reading.
So back to politically incorrect Victorian children’s’ stories and savage dragons. Hope you had a merry Christmas too.