Reading, for me, is entertainment and an escape from the real world. But it can also inform and stretch the boundaries of the life I live.
I had only vague but happy memories of reading this book as a little girl, remembering the slightly incompetent witch who rode a vacuum cleaner instead of a broom and her talking black cat who helped a little girl with her homework. Rereading this as an adult was a pleasure, though the story is certainly dated now. But the humor and delightfully sensible nonsense is still there.
Most of all, I was thrilled to uncover the origin story of one of our family quirks: Whenever we pile in the car after a long day’s activities, we all say, “Home, James!” I had forgotten why, except that it was just one of those silly things that families do. And now I remember how it started: In this book, the flying vacuum cleaner is named James, and when the witch is done making mischief on Wednesdays, she mounts the vacuum and shouts, “Home, James!”
I read this for the Black Cat square in 2016 Halloween Bingo.