Definitely Do Not Open This Book by Andy Lee

Hey, Story Seekers!

I've been given very clear instructions.

Definitely do not open this book.

So naturally, here we are.

This is Definitely Do Not Open This Book, written by Andy Lee and illustrated by Heath McKenzie, and there's a small blue monster named Wizz who would like us to stop immediately.

Don't open it. Don't turn the page. Don't keep reading.

Wizz has clearly never met a child.

Readit has tremendous respect for rules.

"Can I turn the page?"

No.

"Cool."

READIT.

Book Breakdown

Before the book, the story behind the series, because it's the best thing I found all week.

Andy Lee is an Australian comedian and TV presenter. He wrote the first Do Not Open This Book as a one-off gift, a single copy, for his nephew George's first birthday.

He asked a friend to print him that one copy. His friend read it and said, essentially, this is good, can we print more?

Andy's answer: "No. DO NOT print this book."

You can guess what happened next.

The whole franchise is named after a man being told no and ignoring it, which is the exact thing the books do to children. I love it when a joke goes all the way down.

Now, this one.

Look at the cover. Wizz is in purple pajamas, clutching a flashlight, with a stuffed monkey at his feet.

That's the premise right there.

Wizz doesn't want you to turn the pages because every page you turn pushes him closer to bedtime, and Wizz does not want to go to sleep.

So he fights it.

Bright lights. A brass band. Coffee, in what I can only describe as volume. An icy bath with a frozen rubber duck in it. At his most desperate, he props his own eyelids open.

None of it works, because the reader has the one weapon Wizz cannot counter.

A finger.

Turn the page. Wizz gets sleepier. Turn it again. Sleepier.

The engine here is a very pure kind of unfairness: Wizz knows exactly what you're doing, tells you to stop, and is completely powerless.

Heath McKenzie is doing a lot of the work. Wizz isn't standing around while the text makes jokes. He reacts to you, and his face carries most of the comedy. The type moves around the page too, growing and shouting and sagging along with him.

One teacher told me something useful without meaning to: she reads this book to her class specifically to teach punctuation and expressive reading, because the words are laid out to demand it.

And the ending? Wizz puts up a tremendous fight.

Sleep is undefeated.

For teachers and librarians: U.S. Scholastic edition, 2021. Thirty-two pages, ages 5 to 7, grades K to 2. ATOS 2.6, 1 AR point.

No Lexile or Guided Reading level here. I couldn't find a reliable record for this specific sequel and I'm not going to estimate one.

One thing to know before you buy it for a school library: the book uses the word "dammit." That's the whole of it, and for plenty of families it's a non-issue. But it has cost the book shelf space. One elementary librarian wrote that she was glad she hadn't bought the hardcover and put her paperback in the donate pile. Another reader flagged it specifically for kids at the age where they can sort of read along and will absolutely read that word out loud.

I'd rather tell you the actual word than say "mild language" and let you find out during storytime.

Jungle Jimmy's Journal

There is something wonderfully dangerous about telling a kid not to turn a page.

You don't need a teaching certificate to predict the result.

"Don't touch that."

Touch.

"Don't push that."

Push.

"Whatever you do, do NOT turn the page."

The page is already gone. It was gone before you finished the sentence.

That's why this structure works aloud. The kid isn't waiting for a story to happen to them.

The kid is causing it.

Every page turn makes Wizz's situation worse, and the child is the one doing it. That's a strong engine, and it's the same one that's kept The Monster at the End of This Book alive for over fifty years. Readers here notice the resemblance constantly, and several say so directly.

What this one adds is a reason.

Wizz isn't objecting on principle. He's trying not to fall asleep, and kids know that battle intimately.

One more drink. One more question. One more trip to the bathroom. One more urgent thing I have to tell you about a rock I saw on Tuesday.

Wizz just has better equipment.

For the read-aloud, take the invitation. The typography is practically stage direction. Wizz gets louder, more desperate, more ridiculous, and if you play that straight you're wasting it.

One honest caution beyond the language. If you've read the earlier books in this series, you'll see the machinery. Several readers say exactly that, and they're not wrong. The premise is strong enough to run several times but it isn't a surprise twice.

Readit's Review

I would definitely open it.

Obviously.

If somebody hands you a book called Definitely Do Not Open This Book, they already know what you're going to do. That's not a warning. That's an invitation with extra steps.

It's like a button on a wall that says DO NOT PUSH.

You have to push it.

"What if the button launches a missile?"

Okay. Read the small sign underneath first.

I liked Wizz trying new ways to stay awake because they kept getting more ridiculous. The icy bath. The rubber duck FROZEN IN THE ICE. Holding his own eyelids open.

But I have a question.

Why is Wizz mad at ME?

Andy Lee made the pages. Heath McKenzie drew the pages. Somebody printed them. Somebody bought the book. Jimmy picked it up.

And somehow this is my fault?

Suspicious.

Can I turn another page?

The book is over.

"So that's a yes?"

What Others Think

The gap between the platforms is the interesting part.

Goodreads has it at 3.96 out of 5 from 399 ratings, with 69 percent at four or five stars and only 6 percent at one or two. Solid, not spectacular.

KidTime StoryTime's read-aloud has 5.8 million views and 19,000 likes.

That gap tells you what kind of book this is. It's not one people write essays about. It's one kids want to watch somebody perform.

The positive reactions all circle the same word: participation.

Alesandra reports her eight-year-old "zipped through reading this and laughed the whole time," and note the direction there, the boy was reading it himself.

Jo found an unexpected use for it: "I was exhausted when I read this to my niece and had just woken up from a nap, so it was a perfect fit. I was able to get some genuine yawns in without actually pausing to do so because there were yawns written in."

Hannah Potter, a teacher, uses it for punctuation and expressive reading and says her students love it.

But Amanda gives the most useful review in the file, because it complicates the whole premise. Her son loved it and kept begging to read it "again." He also got nervous, and here's the part I'd want a parent to hear: he urged her to turn the pages, because he was worried the monster would get mad at him for doing it.

That's worth knowing. For most kids, defying Wizz is the entire fun. For a more cautious child, making a monster angry is not a game, and you may need to be the one turning pages.

The criticism splits two ways. Readers who know the earlier books find it formulaic, which is fair. And Alison's line is the sharpest: she calls it "the trashy modern version of There's A Monster At The End Of This Book," then adds the practical warning about kids who are just learning to read and the word they'll read out loud.

She's harsh, but she's identified the right comparison. This is Grover's structure with a rowdier accent.

Belly Laugh Scale

4 out of 5: Big-Time Belly Laughs

The comedy here isn't about punchlines. It's about power.

Wizz begs. Wizz schemes. Wizz drinks an unreasonable amount of coffee and climbs into an ice bath.

The kid turns the page anyway.

McKenzie makes every consequence visible on Wizz's face, and Lee keeps inventing sillier ways for him to lose. That's good interactive comedy and it earns the four.

Not a five, for two reasons. Kids who've read the earlier books will recognize the machinery. And a book that a chunk of elementary librarians won't shelve over one word has a ceiling on how universally I can recommend it.

But with the right kid and an adult willing to perform Wizz's escalating panic, this thing cooks.

Final Explorer Verdict

Ages 5 to 8, for the kid who gets a genuine thrill out of doing precisely what a book tells them not to.

It's a natural next step if they already love The Monster at the End of This Book. Same trick, louder delivery, and a bedtime angle that gives it somewhere to go.

Check the language question first and decide for your own house. It's one word and it's in there on purpose, and I'd rather you make that call in a bookshop than in front of a kindergarten class.

For a cautious kid, be ready to do the page-turning yourself. That's not a defect, it's just how some children meet an angry monster.

And if your kid says books are boring, this structure is one of the best ways in there is. I put together fifteen books for reluctant readers here, and the shout-back-at-the-book shelf is well represented.

The bridge to my own shelf is an easy one. Look! There Are No Dinos Inside Of This Book runs the same play from the other side. Dangerous Dave insists with total confidence that there are absolutely no dinosaurs, while the pictures show your kid exactly how wrong he is.

Different trick. Same dangerous ingredient.

Give the kid the power.

Readit?

"Yes?"

Whatever you do, definitely do NOT start the next review.

"Okay."

Wait. That worked?

"No."

Keep exploring, Story Seekers!

Jungle Jimmy & Readit