“The Wizard of Oz” began life as a
story Baum would tell to the children who visited his store, making it up as he went along. Some
say that the name ”Oz” came about when Baum’s eyes drifted across to the O-Z section of a filing cabinet during one of these recitals, if there is any truth in this it’s pure chance that I’m not currently writing an abstract titled “The Sorcerer of Scummy-Half-Empty-Coffee-Cup” for which I’m particularly grateful to the gods of fate.
The story follows the adventures of Dorothy in the magical land of Oz, as she journeys to return home to her aunt and uncle, (who share their names with Luke’s in Star Wars: A New Hope, although that’s where the similarity ends, Oz is not friendly to landspeeders) she is helped on her way by three companions, each believing themselves to be incomplete in some respect; the Tin Man, the Lion and the Scarecrow. She discovers that the only way she might be able to cross the great desert that surrounds Oz on all sides is to seek the help of its major powers, four witches of the North, South, East and West, two of them good and two of them evil, and the reclusive Wizard of Oz, ruler of the Emerald City. This gets her involved in the struggles between them, even more than when she first arrived, her house having been whisked up into the air during a hurricane and dropped on top of the Wicked Witch of The East.
The whole book is essentially just one big non-sequitur, and that is as much fun as it sounds, there are a few continuous themes like Dorothy’s wanting to get back to Kansas, or the Scarecrow’s frankly disturbing passion for brains (he makes zombies look like weekend cranophiles), but otherwise the events of the story are clearly just whatever Baum felt like talking about on that particular day. You’ll see what I mean when you get to the porcelain village, don’t try and say you weren’t warned.
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