Like many people of my generation, I loved the film adaptation (the first, not the second, thank you) and never realized that it had come from a book until a number of years later. In fact, I read it the first time in '07 and not only was I delighted at how imaginative it was, I was flabbergasted (joyfully so) that it lived up to its name. 
 It's quick reading, by any standard, but so deliciously dense in imagery, mythology, and an engrossing plot that I swore that if I had any children, this would be a staple of their diet. 
 Now that I have a little girl, I'm just too anxious to start reading it to her. I really can't sit still. I keep picking up the book and going, "Is she old enough, yet? Is she? Is she?" Then I set down the book and tear out my metaphorical hair and let out a forlorn cry. Then I get a fantastic idea: 
 I could just read it again, for myself! 
 Then everything is right with the world again and I'm able to write a new review. 
 This is easily one of my favorite tales, ever. 
 An extra goodie: April had a great review that forced me to think and respond in (I hope) a comprehensible way. Check it out. April's Review