It’s been maybe two years. I’ve been reading the Wizard of Oz books to my kids off and on. Not every night, not the ideal I had in mind, which was five to seven nights a week, one chapter at a time, all the way through. But life doesn’t always make space for that. Still, chapter by chapter, we’ve made our way through the series.
Now we’re starting Glinda of Oz, the 14th book in the series, and the final one written by L. Frank Baum.
What It Feels Like to Start the Final Book
I know it’s his last, partly because of what’s missing at the start. Most of the books in our collection begin with a letter from Baum to his readers. These introductions are personal and full of charm. He talks directly to the children who write to him, calling them “my little friends,” and it’s very sweet. You get the sense that he genuinely loved writing for them, and they genuinely loved writing to him.
But this one’s different.
There’s no letter from Baum in Glinda of Oz. Instead, the publisher writes a note explaining that he passed away before this book was published. They mention that they’ll be releasing another story based on his notes. And they did. That’s the fifteenth book in the set.
From the copy I have, it’s not immediately clear who wrote that fifteenth book. I don’t think it’s Baum, since I remember reading years ago that he wrote only the first fourteen. So this next one must be by someone else. I’ll get into that more later, but for now, what matters is that Glinda of Oz is the last one he wrote.
I read the publisher’s note out loud to my kids, the same way I always read the author intros. One of them said, “Oh, he died?” and the other said, “Well, obviously he’s dead.” It was a funny little moment, but it hit me harder than it hit them.
It made me sad.
Not just because Baum is gone. Of course he is. But because I’ve grown to feel connected to him through these stories. I don’t know much about L. Frank Baum’s life, but I feel like I do know him through the way he wrote. And I like him. I like him a lot.
Voice, Legacy, and Letting Go
Part of that connection probably comes from the audiobooks we’ve listened to, narrated by Phil Chenevert. He’s the voice behind the LibriVox recordings we’ve used, and I’ve probably listened to them all the way through twice. He has a very charming, warm voice. And I think part of why I love these books is because of the life he brought to them.
But it’s more than that.
When I read the books to my kids myself, doing the voices and adding a bit of performance, I still feel the joy in Baum’s words. His writing makes me happy. It makes my kids laugh. There’s something warm and vibrant and sincere about it. Even when a story doesn’t quite land for me, the heart is still there.
There was a stretch somewhere around the middle of the series where I honestly wondered if Baum was phoning it in. Something just felt off. But I kept going, and eventually the energy picked up again. And even the less memorable books had moments of delight. Fourteen books is an incredible accomplishment. He has my full respect for that.
There are little things in the Oz books I don’t love, but I love the books anyway. I want to keep reading them for the rest of my life.
I’m already planning to listen to the series again, on my own, at my own pace. Not tied to bedtime schedules or reading aloud. Just me, listening for the joy of it. It won’t be a vacation exactly, but it will feel like something restful. Something familiar and meaningful. I know I’ll enjoy it all over again.
A Final Chapter, A Last Goodbye
Back to Glinda of Oz. It makes me sad to start it, because it’s Baum’s last one. And apparently, he was ill while writing it. I think I read that on Wikipedia, not in the book’s intro. But it stayed with me. I can’t help wondering what that meant for the story. What he put into it, knowing he might not write another.
It almost feels sacred. Not in a religious way, but in the way a final letter or message can feel. Even though it’s a children’s fantasy book, it’s also the last story he chose to tell.
According to what I found, Baum died on May 6, 1919, just nine days before his 63rd birthday. His last words were to his wife: “Now we can cross the shifting sands.”
That line hits me hard. I know what the Shifting Sands are in Oz. I know what they represent. And I wonder what that meant to him, saying those words at the very end of his life.
Glinda of Oz was published the next year, in 1920. After that, the Oz series continued under other writers, most notably Ruth Plumly Thompson, who wrote 21 more books. I found out that Baum’s wife, Maud Gage Baum, appointed Thompson to continue the series. That actually matters to me. It makes a difference that his wife passed the torch herself. That kind of family continuity means something.
Apparently, Thompson wrote the fifteenth book as well, the one published right after Glinda. It may have been credited as if it were based on Baum’s notes, or at least in his style, but it seems pretty clear it was her work.
My kids are excited to keep going. They’ve enjoyed the Oz books so much that they want me to read the next one, too.
And I probably will.
Even though part of me feels like Oz isn’t really Oz without Baum, I may still keep reading. Because the stories have become part of our family. Because my kids want more. And because maybe, just maybe, there’s still some magic left on the road ahead.
What say you, fellow traveller? Drop a comment below or if you’re on Twitter, tag me @MJ_Scribe.
If you’re looking for something with magical creatures, high stakes, and a whole lot of heart, check out Mockwing Mayhem. Learn more at grobugs.com.
You can find more of my reviews, book reflections, and stories with spine at mjmunoz.com.
MJ Muñoz 