Why, oh why, do publishers do this? Eighty years ago,
A. A. Milne wrote two magical books about Winnie the Pooh (as well as two books of poetry for children), enchantingly illustrated by Ernest H. Shepard. Now, for reasons that pass understanding, someone decided a sequel was needed, and Milne's estate gave its permission. Author David Benedictus and artist Mark Burgess do their best to imitate the style of the original, and do a decent job of it. But, predictably, the one-of-a-kind magic that imbued the original, born of a father's love for his son in a time long past, is gone.
What's left here is not terrible. Were it not attempting to follow in the footsteps of a classic, it might even be considered a pleasant enough set of bedtime stories. For children who have read the originals and clamor for more, this is passable. But if your children haven't read the originals, and especially if the Disney movie versions have convinced them it's for babies, go there first.
Milne's works are timeless, enchanting, and a more challenging read than most kids might suspect. They should be a part of everyone's childhood.
Burgess does a decent job of imitating Ernest H. Shepard. Though PIglet looks wrong, and Christopher Robin looks like he has aged much more than a year since the last book, the illustrations are pleasant and occasionally amusing.