Published by Pony Express Publications on March 2, 2019, Limerick Comics is a slim, 32-page collection that sits somewhere between children’s poetry and graphic novel. The premise is simple and instantly appealing: take the humble limerick, break it into comic panels, and use it as a doorway into real knowledge. It’s a book that definitely should not be mistaken for another low-effort children’s book. On the contrary, reading Limerick Comics, one gets the impression a great deal of care has been put into every page, and every limerick.
This is a book that is somewhat hard to explain, but as soon as you pick it up, you will quickly understand it. Basically, the book is an anthology of 29 standalone limericks, each told across one page of comic panels, with one line of verse per panel. Every limerick is also a sort of short story, and is followed by a nonfiction passage that explains the real facts behind the joke. A slug who is the crowd’s favourite despite never winning a race opens the door to how slugs move. A trapeze artist’s fall leads into the history of Jules Léotard and the invention of the safety net. A mayor who cannot keep his toupee on in the wind turns into a quick civics lesson on what mayors actually do.
The book works on several levels at once. On the surface, it is a cheerful, humorous children’s book perfectly pitched for a curious eight-year-old. But it also makes a surprisingly good coffee table book for people of all ages. It suits fans of limerick poetry who will enjoy the wordplay, and it suits anyone who simply loves picking up odd and interesting trivia. As an adult, I would gladly keep a copy around on the coffee table, just to browse through on a quiet afternoon. It would also make a lovely gift for any child, the kind of book a parent and child can read together and both get something out of.
The range of subjects is wonderfully unpredictable. One page features a brontosaurus who swallows stones to grind up its food, and another drops you into the Pony Express, galloping through blizzards with the U.S. mail. You meet a court jester exiled for a terrible pun, Howard Carter peering into King Tut’s tomb, a lovestruck octopus whose three hearts are all struck by Cupid’s arrows, and lots more crazy scenarios. You never quite know what you will get when you turn the page, but nearly every one is a delight and full of creativity.
Steve Feldman’s artwork is beautifully done throughout and brings the book to life. Each page has its own colour palette that matches its subject. The illustrations are expressive and often very funny, from the slug’s dapper top hat to the horrified faces of a circus crowd. Even if limericks are not your thing, there is plenty to enjoy here simply as art. Every panel is the work of a skilled human illustrator who clearly cared about the details, and that artistry is a pleasure to linger over that gives the book a lot of charm.
Crucially, the limericks are all skillfully put together. Hoyman sticks faithfully to the classic form: five lines, an AABBA rhyme scheme, and the bouncing anapestic rhythm that makes limericks so satisfying to read aloud. The rhymes are often clever, pairing ordinary words with more ambitious vocabulary, such as a caveman covered in dust who can make flint stones combust. Splitting each limerick across separate panels is a smart choice, too. It slows the reader down and lets each line breathe. What impressed me is how often the jokes depend on the words and the pictures working together.
The book is not without its quirks. Because the subjects jump so wildly from page to page, the collection can feel a little random, with no theme or thread tying a slug, the Titanic and Portland cement together. That said, the randomness is also part of the fun, since you get exposure to a huge variety of topics in a very short book.
The nonfiction passages are also somewhat dense blocks of small text packed with facts. The octopus page, for example, moves through the Lesser Antilles, three hearts, copper-based blue blood, the irritating chemicals in octopus ink, and how octopuses decorate their dens, all in one paragraph. Younger children may skip these sections and go straight for the comics, while adults and older kids will probably find them the most rewarding part of the book. Helpfully, a glossary at the back explains trickier words like bioluminescence, gelatinous and auricle, which makes those passages more approachable for children.
On the whole, Limerick Comics is a charming book that is simple good fun to read. It makes poetry feel fun rather than intimidating, it sneaks real knowledge into every page, and it does so with wit and gorgeous artwork. It is the rare children’s book that adults will happily pick up on their own, and it is easy to imagine it sparking a few homemade limericks.
Final verdict: For fans of the Horrible Histories series, Lewis Carroll, Roald Dahl, limericks and light verse, lovers of quirky history and science facts, comic and graphic-novel readers, and anyone looking for a smart, funny gift for a curious child, Limerick Comics is well worth a place on the shelf, or better yet, the coffee table.
