Rereading *Ozma of Oz* as an adult felt like reuniting with an old friend—one who still knows how to thrill me. The moment Dorothy tumbles into that chicken coop during the storm, I was hooked all over again. Baum’s knack for tossing his heroine into absurd yet perilous situations (seriously, a princess who collects *heads*?) keeps the pages turning.

What struck me this time? The Nome King’s game. It’s not just fantasy; it’s psychological tension at its finest. Watching Dorothy and friends risk becoming *ornaments* while trying to outwit him had me gripping my Kindle like it was a life raft. And Billina the hen? Her sassy debates with Dorothy about morality and meal choices (insects vs. cooked meat!) add humor that still lands perfectly.

The book’s quirks hold up, too. Princess Langwidere’s 30-head wardrobe is peak Baum whimsy—I laughed imagining her subjects’ confusion every time she swapped personalities with a new face. And Tiktok, the literal wind-up robot, feels eerily prescient for 1907. His ‘programmed’ knowledge glitching at key moments? Basically vintage AI anxiety.

For Oz newcomers: Skip the title gripes (*Ozma* barely features). This is Dorothy’s show, packed with fresh allies (hungry tiger with a conscience!), returning favorites (Cowardly Lion fans rejoice), and villains who steal scenes. It’s darker than *Wizard*, richer than *Land of Oz*, and proof Baum’s imagination only grew wilder. If you loved *Return to Oz*’s creepy charm, the book dives deeper into those themes—just swap the film’s electro-shock therapy for killer Wheelers and head-swapping royalty.

Final thought? Baum wrote women ruling nations (flawed but fierce) decades before suffrage. Even his ‘settled-down’ General Jinjur throws punches at her husband. For all its talking chickens and ornamental curses, *Ozma* feels oddly progressive—and endlessly fun.