When I started out reading a beat-up library copy of 1872's The Princess and the Goblin, I had no idea it would end up being exactly the book I needed at the moment. In fact, for the first two chapters, it struck a serious nerve. There was no goblin in sight, and the princess was giving me a migraine. Sure, maybe Irene kicks off the adventure by exploring, but as soon as she gets lost or runs into trouble she flings herself to the ground crying until she is rescued. Do you have any idea how tiring this gets? I don't care that she's only eight. I happen to know a very plucky eight-year-old. Just seriously....STOP THE CRYING. The entire book got on my nerves for several chapters, come to think of it. Why? This takes place in a village where no one can go out at night. Also, there's a creepily mysterious lady spinning yarn in a tower. This is all good stuff. Good stuff indeed. So why was I driven nuts? Well, enter Curdie, bringing utter relief simply by being a char...