Sometimes, when you want to tell your sweetheart how you feel, the only thing to do is tear that muscle that pumps your blood right out of your chest and afix it to your beloved's door with a hat pin. Rat-a-tat-tat! This way, you can determine if he, she or it is worthy of your devotion by studying how your cardiac offering is met. Some would-be lovers will spurn it. Some will shriek. If, like our Harlequin, you are besotted with a tow-headed beauty, lithe of limb, with "mermaid lips" and the most unflappable flaps that ever refused to commence with the flapping, your heart will likely wind up in a plastic baggy, safe and warm in Beauty's pocket, that is until - well, you're just going to have to read the book for that bit.
I first read this tale in prose form some five years ago, I think. I loved it then and I love it now. John Bolton's painted illustrations are perfect for the thing, pretty, sweet and dizzying like blue cotton candy and looking the wrong way on a carousel. Plus it's hardback. I like hardbacks. They make me feel skinny, smart and rich.