


I am told “reluctant readers” “love” The Diary of a Wimpy Kid. My question is, in this narcissistic age,
does this sort book do more harm than possible good? The character is so self-obsessed
that to describe him as clinically narcissistic would not be extreme. If this
character was real, he would become an evil adult. Some things are so tragic
that they are never funny.
Seeing yourself reflected in stories can allow you to be become more comfortable with who you are. Sometimes, as Mischel points out, you should not be.
And for those who want Australian (and actually humorous)
alternatives to Wimpy Kid, may I suggest you start with Michael Gerard Bauer,
Tristan Bancks, Anh Do and Oliver Phommavanh?
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