If the pirates’ edict erasing the letter “O” in The Wonderful O delighted you—the way it bends everyone’s speech and exposes the silliness of tyranny—you’ll love how the island of Nollop starts outlawing letters one by one after a monument mishap. Dunn pushes the lipogram conceit further with witty letters and proclamations that grow hilariously constrained as the alphabet disappears, turning resistance itself into a game of wordcraft.

You enjoyed how The Wonderful O made language the battlefield—so join Milo and Tock as they speed from Dictionopolis to Digitopolis, negotiating literal markets of words and the quarrels of Rhyme and Reason. The same nimble wit that let an island stumble over missing “O”s blossoms here into a full quest where puns, paradoxes, and clever turns of phrase are the stepping-stones.

If the cheeky, fable-like tilt of The Wonderful O—complete with absurd edicts and pirate antics—made you grin, you’ll savor Westley’s transformation into the Dread Pirate Roberts, Inigo’s heartfelt revenge, and Miracle Max’s deadpan rescues. Goldman skewers fairy-tale conventions with the same wink you felt when an entire island tried to talk around a missing vowel.

Where The Wonderful O shows how banning a single letter can muzzle a people, Rushdie’s tale sends Haroun to a literal Sea of Stories to confront Khattam-Shud, the arch-enemy of speech, who seeks to poison tales themselves. With Iff the Water Genie and Butt the Hoopoe at his side, it’s a buoyant, imaginative defense of free expression that echoes Thurber’s playful defiance.

If you cherished the way The Wonderful O smuggles a big-hearted lesson about freedom and kindness into a sprightly fable, you’ll be moved by the Little Prince’s travels—from the conceited man to the fox—each encounter distilling a moral with lightness and grace. It delivers that same tender clarity: a simple tale that leaves a lasting, luminous truth.