This disposed me favourably the book in general, but it also left me quite surprised. So everything I remembered about The Prince and the Pauper came from dim recollections of its Wishbone episode (“The Prince and the Pooch”). When I think of The Hound of the Baskervilles, I don’t picture any of the innumerable human Sherlock Holmes actors I see Wishbone dressed in a deerstalker. How amazingly awesome is that? Consequently, my first-and usually most memorable-exposure to many classics came as a Wishbone adventure. I mean, it’s about a talking dog that re-enacts great works of literature in a way young people can understand and enjoy. I grew up with Wishbone, and it was right up there with Bill Nye the Science Guy and The Magic School Bus as a formative television show that I loved beyond all reason. Whenever I think of Mark Twain, particularly of Tom Sawyer or The Prince and the Pauper, I think of the 1990s PBS series Wishbone. (No, I don’t know why I used a cowboy metaphor with a New England author. After all, the last time I encountered Twain, I was a child or adolescent, with corresponding tastes. While I don’t think I will be rushing to devour the rest of Twain’s oeuvre just yet, this book has certainly given me a more mature appreciation of Twain as a writer. However, this lovely edition of The Prince and the Pauper found its way into my possession, so I decided to challenge those priorities. Twain is not high on my list of priorities, sorry to say. This is not my first time to the Mark Twain rodeo, but it has been a long time since I last visited.
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