The Books

Froodle

by Antoinette Portis

One Potato Review

You may find yourself admiring this little brown bird with the courage (the imagination? the social anxiety disorder?) to say something new, then once the verbal mania spreads, you may find yourself in quiet solidarity with the crow who only knows how to say “caw,” or the dove who tries to keep the peace (“Olive, anyone?”), but you will almost certainly have a blast together sampling such fooleries as “oobly snoobly,” “itsyboggen,” “zinkertriggy,” and “pleemish.” There goes the neighborhood.