If you’ve ever perused the kiddywink section of a bookshop, you’ve almost certainly come across the “That’s Not My…” series of books. If not, let me explain to you the basic plot of every one.
A mouse (the unnamed protagonist of the series) sets out to find a thing. On the way he find several things of the same class as the thing he wants to find, but each featuring some flaw which immediately identifies to the painstakingly exacting mouse that this thing isn’t the thing that he wanted. Usually the flaw is texture based, and the picture accompanying the text ingeniously incorporates a patch which exhibits the properties which the mouse finds so abhorrent. The patch is very tactile, and teaches small children valuable lessons about poking and prodding their grubby fingers at everything valuable you own.
Eventually the nameless, obsessive mouse finds the thing he was looking for, and lives happily ever after. Presumably until the next time he mislays one of his many possessions.
The original That’s Not My book was about puppies. People obviously suspended disbelief about a mouse owning a puppy, and it sold so well it spawned a never ending series. There’s now an entire floor of my local Waterstones dedicated to just That’s Not My books.
The authors obviously started running out of ideas – faced with increasing demands from the publishers – as the subjects have started getting increasingly far-fetched. My son has, I kid you not, a “That’s Not My Pirate” book. I mean, how could anybody, let alone a small mouse own a bloody pirate?
(By the way, if you own That’s Not My Pirate, the pirate with the too-glittery cutlass, he’s supposed to be gay, right?)
I can’t see them stopping producing ever more That’s Not My books. And eventually, of course, there’ll be the inevitable movie adaptation.
I can see it now. Tom Hanks as The Mouse, searching for his mysteriously vanished wife. He’s called to the morgue to identify a body. The coroner pulls back the sheet. Tom looks down. Touches the face of the cold dead mouse lying before him. Suddenly gasps with relief…
“That’s not my wife! Her nose is too bobbly!”
They are great. Josef loves that’s not my monster.
We’ve got That’s Not My Monster too. Tom likes the fluffy ears!
I find hiding the mouse with my thumb and then demanding Evan finds it on the page very entertaining.
I have thus far managed to avoid this series, long may it continue.
I think Max would probably be a little old for them now Ian. although you might enjoy them if you can make out some of the longer words.
I love a good scratch and sniff style book me.
Mmm, you don’t see scratch and sniff these days. I had one as a kid that had a smelly pizza, and I’d never eaten pizza but the stench of that panel put me off trying for years.
Actually Tom seems to be a fan of the fluffy, he likes the beard in That’s Not My Pirate and the duck in ‘Baby as well.
I love the way he digs his little finger into the fluffyness.
Car (youngest, 2) loves That’s not my lion but prefers the one with all the teeth to the one that’s meant to be the right one. Child has a thing about mouths and teeth – possible dentist when she’s older.
BNMx
The best “that’s not my…” style book is definitely “Where’s my Cow”, by Terry Pratchett.
But possibly not actually meant for children, unless they are already familiar with the phrase “Buggrit millenium hand and shrimp”
I have an ever growing collection of these (mostly gifts) despite the fact that my toddler has never taken to them – he regards them suspiciously. I think he’s also confused about how the mouse has ownership of these inappropriate articles !