You need to sign in or sign up before continuing.
Take a photo of a barcode or cover
chriskoppenhaver 's review for:
Dav Pilkey's humor in his Captain Underpants books has always been about subverting the rules. From the title on down, he's mined the immense amusement in mentioning unmentionables and shared the mischievous joy of getting away with those things we ought not to do. And, while the potty humor is certainly an essential element, the books have never rested solely on it, as Pilkey's genius has been in extending that spirit to the flaunting of all convention in general. Just as central, for instance, has been the undermining of adults undeserving of their authority because they only use it to bully. He allows his young, still-learning characters to write with authentically poor spelling and grammar, and he laughs at the idea of stories needing internal logic and consistency.
In this book, more than ever, Pilkey has fun subverting the rules of storytelling itself with an unending stream of self-aware meta-references.
Chapter 2, for instance, opens with: Somewhere in the deepest, darkest reaches of our solar system, a red, rubber kickball was zooming through space. None of Earth's scientists could explain where it had come from, or why it was racing toward Uranus, but it had been on its present course for the past five and a half books, and nothing could stop it. The chapter closes with: The only thing left to do was travel the long journey from Uranus to Earth. It was a voyage that would take him nearly three whole pages. The duration of space travel is not measured in time in this universe, but in storytelling convenience.
Smaller, simple turns of phrase show the same sensibility. On one page Pilkey sympathetically refers to the surface of the icy, ridiculously named planet, then a mere two pages later reverses course and takes advantage of it with: that bleak night on the terribly gassy surface of Uranus. When characters are worried about time-travel overlap issues, he solves it with: and before you could say "convoluted plotline," it disappeared into the noontime haze.
Chapter 6 is titled, "Sanitized for Your Protection." It begins: Unfortunately, the epic fight that followed was WAY too violent and disturbing to appear in a children's book. The images and descriptions would just be too terrifying. You'd have nightmares for weeks, trust me. So I have invited a guest illustrator, Timmy Swanson (age four) to draw the action in a style that won't depict too much graphic detail. I've also asked his nana, Gertrude (age seventy-one), to describe the scene in her own, gentle vocabulary.
Chapter 22 is the full, complete comic book that George and Harold write/draw to sell as a money making scheme.
And, just to make sure readers don't take too seriously the rule that this series is about the ridiculous adventures of two slackers, a key central portion of this book is concerned with George and Harold's efforts to study hard and make it to school on time to pass tests so that they don't flunk third grade. (But don't worry, that section devolves into the school's teachers running around the school in their underthings.)
In Dav Pilkey's stories, the only true rule is that stories must be fun.
In this book, more than ever, Pilkey has fun subverting the rules of storytelling itself with an unending stream of self-aware meta-references.
Chapter 2, for instance, opens with: Somewhere in the deepest, darkest reaches of our solar system, a red, rubber kickball was zooming through space. None of Earth's scientists could explain where it had come from, or why it was racing toward Uranus, but it had been on its present course for the past five and a half books, and nothing could stop it. The chapter closes with: The only thing left to do was travel the long journey from Uranus to Earth. It was a voyage that would take him nearly three whole pages. The duration of space travel is not measured in time in this universe, but in storytelling convenience.
Smaller, simple turns of phrase show the same sensibility. On one page Pilkey sympathetically refers to the surface of the icy, ridiculously named planet, then a mere two pages later reverses course and takes advantage of it with: that bleak night on the terribly gassy surface of Uranus. When characters are worried about time-travel overlap issues, he solves it with: and before you could say "convoluted plotline," it disappeared into the noontime haze.
Chapter 6 is titled, "Sanitized for Your Protection." It begins: Unfortunately, the epic fight that followed was WAY too violent and disturbing to appear in a children's book. The images and descriptions would just be too terrifying. You'd have nightmares for weeks, trust me. So I have invited a guest illustrator, Timmy Swanson (age four) to draw the action in a style that won't depict too much graphic detail. I've also asked his nana, Gertrude (age seventy-one), to describe the scene in her own, gentle vocabulary.
Chapter 22 is the full, complete comic book that George and Harold write/draw to sell as a money making scheme.
And, just to make sure readers don't take too seriously the rule that this series is about the ridiculous adventures of two slackers, a key central portion of this book is concerned with George and Harold's efforts to study hard and make it to school on time to pass tests so that they don't flunk third grade. (But don't worry, that section devolves into the school's teachers running around the school in their underthings.)
In Dav Pilkey's stories, the only true rule is that stories must be fun.
"Are you still trying to figure out how we ended up with three half-pterodactyl, half-bionic-hamster pets?" asked George.
"Yeah, sort of," Harold replied.
"You're thinking too much," said George. "Listen, if you look too closely at these stories, they're gonna fall apart completely. Whaddya think this is, Shakespeare?!!?"
"I guess you're right," said Harold.
"Of course I'm right," said George. "Just go with it, man."