![]() ![]() In spite of all that, though, Lewis still isn’t so sure about his current place in the world. “Did that withered purple skeleton just speak?” Uncle Jonathan gasps in reply. “I’m relieved to see that you didn’t inherit your uncle’s freakishly oversized head,” she says with an impish grin. And there’s always a comical, cutting jab at Uncle Jonathan on her lips. She always dresses in purple, and she always smiles Lewis’ way with a sparkle in her eye. At the very least, she’s magically charming. Uncle Jonathan’s next-door neighbor, Mrs. It’s a crazy place that’s lightly sprinkled with something approaching magic. The old house-full of mahogany banisters, oddly moving stained glass windows, walls lined with ticking clocks and a lounge chair that makes a noise that almost sounds like a … bark?-is a curious child’s wonderland. “You can eat cookies ’til you throw up, for all I care,” he proclaims, smiling in the confused boy’s direction.Īnd that’s hardly the only strange thing about Lewis’ new home. In fact, Uncle Jonathan makes it clear that chocolate-chip cookies are a fine meal, too, thank you very much. “There’s no bedtimes, no bathtimes or mealtimes in this house,” the bearded, overly expressive fellow declares after they make their way home from the bus station. And when they do meet, Lewis isn’t altogether sure what to make of the little man dressed in a silky robe-his “ka-moan-oh,” as Uncle Jonathan calls it. After his parents die in a car crash, the orphaned tween has to travel on his own to the little town of New Zebedee, Michigan, to meet an uncle he’d never seen before. ![]()
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