I don’t think there’s anything quite like the quirky, whimsical world of Oz. I am a big fan of its most recent incarnation: the musical Wicked. But my love began as a kid, reading my way through the original Oz books. My late grandpa was a big fan too, and I have fond memories of visiting my grandparents’ house in Minnesota and running up to the bookshelf at the top of the stairs to see the big old hardbacks with their wonderful covers.

I enjoyed the entire Oz series, but of all of them Ozma of Oz is my favorite and the one I remember best, so I’m going to focus on that here. Most people know the basics of the original Wonderful Wizard of Oz story, and I still find certain aspects of The Land of Oz a little off-putting (plus, no Dorothy). But Ozma of Oz is full of fond memories for me:

No-nonsense Billina the hen, washed ashore with Dorothy on a strange and magical shore. The dinner-pail tree. The Wheelers. Tic-toc the mechanical man. The disturbing princess who choses a beautiful new head to wear each day from her collection, as easily as she might chose a pair of shoes. Ozma’s procession across the desert on the magic carpet, endlessly rolling out before and rolling up behind her. Dorothy’s triumph over the Nome king, and Billina saving the day.