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It’s the late 1930s. EB White is doing everything
but finishing the first draft of Stuart Little. His wife,
Katharine, is trying to adjust to life in the backwoods of Maine,
far from her high powered job as the first female editor at the
New Yorker. And Anne Carroll Moore, from behind the walls of
her children’s library empire at the New York Public Library, is
not at all sure she approves of what’s going on outside.
Little Book is a comedy about the written word.
That is: it’s about procrastination, disappointment, hypochondria,
unrequited love, and blind hope. It’s about why the semicolon is
way sexier than the dash. And why children’s literature matters.
Nancy Worssam (author,
ArtsStage/SeattleRage; reviewer,
the Seattle Times) calls Little Book "Too good to miss,"
"incredibly clever," and "delicious."
José Amador (arts editor, the
Seattlest) calls Little Book
"a diminutive gem," "ruminative," and "an intelligent script that
continues to offer rewards long after it ends."
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