I couldn't help but imagine James Dobson smiling down upon me as I read this book, nodding and gently whispering, 'That's right, that's right,' and then exhorting me to give this book to my daughter to read, to which I would respond, 'Womenfolk don't read in my house. Learnin' leads to suffrage.' To which James would jump out of his chair and shout, 'THAT'S RIGHT, THAT'S RIGHT!'

I mean, it was charming in the way that those drawings at Lascaux are charming, but I'm not going to be preached to about morality and gender roles and child rearing and just regurgitate it.

The story and the language and the interpersonal relationships were fairly unimaginative. I cried during the scene when the father returned and said something each about his daughters, but I wasn't in a good place at the time. I wasn't!