The Dinosaur's Egg

The Dinosaur's Egg is the story of the charming Clayton family of Devonshire who find themselves navigating a change in circumstances. On the fringe of their social circle is Uncle Bliss, young Irene's godfather, an eccentric and often obtuse explorer and collector who moves his private museum/zoo to the nearby English country side. Uncle Bliss' nemesis is a mythical African beast which he hopes to collect for his museum. The children's adventures echo their famed relative's, or is it the other way around? Is there hope for the miserly Uncle Bliss to find something of true value?

1926 review: "Light as a thistledown and with almost the rhythm of a babbling brook rushing over the stones, the author of The Dinosaur's Egg, entertains the reader in a manner almost unique. It is all delightfully amusing. It is a tale of the adventures, verbal and otherwise, of Uncle Bliss, intrepid African explorer and Nemesis of the rare pterodactyl found only in the morasses of the Jiundu river. It is also the humorous account of Uncle Bliss' contacts with a most charming Devonshire family. Uncle Bliss . . . collects for his museum, from the stuffed hippopotamus to the dinosaur's egg, and is often in consequence an embarrassment to country society and even to the government. . . . [Y]ou will find her a book that is highly entertaining and well worth reading."

1926 review: "The Dinosaur's Egg is what our remote Victorian ancestors called an 'oddity' among novels, and a delightful oddity at that. The narrator is an invalidated English officer from the Sudan, and has more humor than that class is usually given credit for. There is a bit of black magic in the tale, but even the savage relic from Africa with sinister and occult powers does its stuff in not too horrifying vein. The owner of the dinosaur's egg is an eccentric uncle, millionaire, collector and miser who establishes his private zoo in a peaceful English country side, says and does the unexpected thing on all occasions, and sets the key for a novel that is full of gentle wit and drollery verging on the fantastic yet retaining an air of plausibility by a manner of telling which begs you to believe in it for the afternoon, anyway. (1926)