Before Harry Potter came along, books for children were basically very simple. Kids weren’t out saving the world, intentionally or not. They were busy idling the time away, mere creatures not humans.

Okay, I exagerrate, but I think the quintessential example of what I mean can be found, not in C. S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, but in Beverly Cleary’s The Mouse and the Motorcycle. I adored Cleary’s works because, even though they contained no magic, they were still very much magical.

In this case, Ralph is a mouse. A hotel mouse. A young, brown, second floor hotel mouse, and he’s got more energy than you’d expect. Well, a boy arrives with his parents, and Ralph falls paws over paws for a toy motorcycle the boy owns. From that point forward, things get a little zany for The Mouse and the Motorcycle.

If you’ve never read it, or you have but want to see what I mean, go get yourself a copy and read this book.