Francesco Sedita

First sentence: This is the first book I will read to you, my sweet child. After we take our bath, I'll put you in your softest pajamas. And wrap you in your blanket. You'll wiggle your feet and squirm as I hold you. And I'll be nervous--to share this moment that only you and I will be a part of. You might not want to listen at first. Maybe you'll want to be doing something else. But then we'll find our way together.

Premise/plot: A father reads a book to his baby. It is written in second person, directly to the baby--child.

My thoughts: It is a sweet, sensitive. It isn't trying to be funny--just sincere. It stars a father--not a mother. The only two we meet in the book are father and child (baby). There are folks in picture frames, but no details given. (Nor should there have to be.)

I'm torn. Part of me is trying to restrain from overthinking a single page. The other part is finding it difficult not to overthink. For example, all the MANY positions the dad is in that would make me actual reading from a book difficult. When you've got a tiny one still needing swaddling, it's probably not best to walk around reading a book. How will you turn pages with just one hand free? And while I'm sure that plenty of the spreads are more metaphorical than literal--a father goes from walking into a nursery with a wooden floor to being outside in the woods--the scene where he's walking up hill reading the book while cradling the baby in his other arm--it just seems hazardous with all the trees about. Again, I know it's imaginative and creative--not literal.

But I think the sweetness, the tenderness, the emotional journey of this one outweighs even my overthinking.… (mere)