Subtitle: How I Lost My Mind Over a Love Letter to Language and Possibly Democracy!
Dear Reader,
It’s not often that a book makes me both giggle and grieve, but Ella Minnow Pea managed to do just that, and with such a clever little trick up its sleeve, too.
Let me explain.
At first glance, the island of Nollop seems like an idyllic place. It’s named after the man who penned the pangram, “The quick brown fox jumps over the lazy dog,” and the islanders revere language in a way that’s almost sacred. It’s the kind of place I might dream about when I’m scribbling words into letters and wondering if they’ll land softly in someone’s heart.
But what begins as a whimsical premise quickly becomes something more troubling — and uncomfortably familiar.
You see, when the letters of the famous sentence start falling off the town’s monument, the island’s leaders decide it’s a sign from Nollop himself: those letters must be banned from spoken and written language. At first, it’s a curiosity. Then it’s an inconvenience. Before long, it becomes a quiet sort of nightmare.
I found myself squirming as I read. Because while it’s all playfully told; the novel is made up of letters between the characters, which I particularly loved; there’s something sharp beneath the silliness. The story reveals just how easily freedom can be stripped away, bit by bit, under the guise of tradition, order, or even reverence.
As each letter disappears, the characters are forced to adapt their language. The book itself begins to lose letters too, and that’s where Mark Dunn’s brilliance really shines. It’s not just a constraint — it’s a creeping silence. And it made me think about how many people in the real world are silenced in subtle ways every day.
And yet, and here’s the part that stayed with me long after I closed the final page: this is a hopeful book. It’s a story about resistance, community, and the irrepressible power of words. Even when the alphabet is slipping through their fingers, the people of Nollop still find a way to connect, to rebel, to speak. It’s quiet bravery in envelopes.
I suppose that’s what drew me to it so deeply. Letters, after all, are my favourite kind of rebellion. They say what we’re too afraid to voice aloud. They offer comfort, challenge, truth. And sometimes, they remind us who we are when the world tries to tell us otherwise.
If you’ve ever loved a word, if you’ve ever felt powerless and found your strength in writing, or if you just like clever books that make your brain do backflips; Ella Minnow Pea is worth reading. And when you do, perhaps you’ll write to me and tell me what you think. I’d love that.
With all the letters I’m still allowed to use,
Poppy
