I've been avoiding writing this review, because... well, I didn't love this book. And I can't on earth figure out how that's possible. I love soft, episodic mg books. I love Voigt about as well as any author in the world. But somehow, nothing ever seemed to happen to Fredl.

The writing is, naturally, perfect. Line by line I wanted to eat the book. The fourth star is for the language of the book. The word-by-word moments. The "went" and the "Woo-ha" and so forth. But the story never took off in a way that made we want to turn pages. I didn't come to care.

In the end, this book reads like allegory. So much of it feels like code for something else. As children's poetry I'd love it. Maybe even as a story collection. I'd put it under my pillow. As a novel it doesn't work for me.

I probably shouldn't give it 4 stars, but.... but... I just love Voigt so much.