I would have loved to love this book. Though I've always been content with the ending Milne gave us eighty years ago, I was curious to see how someone might try to pick up the story.
I'll be brief.
Return to the Hundred Acre Wood by David Benedictus is DREADFUL. Not only does it fail to capture the original spirit, but it tries to update the "maturity" of the narrative -- throwing in adolescent identifiers, like Royal Doulton and Bournemouth and Edinburgh Castle and "household management" and "thesaurus" -- as if to suggest the stories are being told to (or created by?) an older Christopher Robin. It doesn't work. Nor does each chapter's laundry list of character action, as if each animal in the forest were a prima donna movie star, counting lines and demanding a larger part in the story. Do nearly all the characters need to be in nearly all the stories? No. Do they need to speak so much? No. No, no, no. And as for Pooh's "hums" -- well, for anyone who ever loved H. Fraser-Simson's musical interpretations of Milne's poetry, I can only warn you that there is absolutely no lyrical magic to be found between the covers of this tome.
OK, now I can tell I'm just getting grouchy, and I said I'd be brief. So here it is: the sad truth is that this book is *incredibly* boring. Milne's short and sweet has been turned into long and wearisome. I found my eyes drooping as I turned each page.
AVOID.
(The illustrations by Mark Burgess aren't bad.)