Reading wicked things

I started reading a new book on the train this morning. I go through phases of reading loads and then I read a book that either slows me down or I just can't complete and I sort of stop for awhile before something else catches my interest and just makes me want to read.

The new book is Gregory Maguire's "Wicked", the life and times of the Wicked Witch of the West. I've wanted to read it since I heard about it and I finally saw it discounted at the weekend so snapped up a copy (ok, so we were supposed to be doing early Christmas present shopping). I've loved the Wizard of Oz for years... years and years in fact. At one of my previous jobs there was someone as mad as me in the IT dept. We kept each other from going really lala by enjoying our madness. She was the Wicked Witch and I was Dorothy. She used to go round the office calling me Dotty all the time, much to the confusion of everyone else. I would just click my heels together and humm "there's no place like home, there's no place like home" and mutter on about my ruby slippers as we definitely were not in Kansas anymore (or anyplace that was vaguely following normal laws).

So.... Now dear Dotty can click again and read the true story of his evil sister. I don't think I have ever enjoyed reading a prologue more. The author talks of his time coming over to England and writing the novel. The joy he had visiting the places he had read about in fantasy's for years... The way he whistfully name drops some of my favourite british "children's" author's as people that inspired him, those I always think no one has ever heard of.. Dianna Wynne Jones, Susan Cooper.... Happy happy memories from my childhood. I can almost see him sitting in the cafe, stealing the table to write as he looked on at one of his favourite author's as they came in to write to.

Magical, just magical - and that was before I even started reading the novel.

*clicks his heels and wishes he were home so he could carry on reading*