Tiny Hercules

This novelty comedy adventure shrinks Greek mythology down to pocket size and then makes it as funny as possible. In Tiny Olympus, only two things matter: being tiny, and being cool. Tiny Hercules is convinced he is the coolest hero alive, and Tiny Zeus is equally sure the title belongs to him. Their rivalry is petty, loud and obnoxious — until Zeus accuses Hercules of ruining ‘the most bodacious party ever’ and banishes him from Tiny Olympus altogether.

The story then takes a sharp turn to a new setting: the charming British village of Chutney-on-Toast. Here, Hercules meets Jeff, a boy with an unusual love of graphs and an even more unusual hope that they might save his home. Chutney-on-Toast is about to be bulldozed (‘These beautiful houses aren’t going to destroy themselves!’) and Jeff’s data-driven determination is the opposite of Hercules’ preferred problem-solving methods: ‘…punching, attitude and sweet, home-saving action!’ The contrasting approaches are unlikely to work well together… and they don’t!

The book’s biggest joke is that there is no real explanation for why the gods are tiny at all. Rather than attempting to explain, the story repeatedly winks at its own weirdness, maintaining a very silly tone throughout. This self-awareness peaks with Zeus’ ridiculous disguise as ‘Swan Zeus’ (especially amusing for readers with a little Classics knowledge), and a pedalo race that feels like the kind of comic set-piece you might find in a children’s magazine strip.

Many of the funniest moments arrive as short, punchy episodes: visual gags, throwaway lines, sudden silliness. The momentum can wobble, and the inclusion of extra ‘Tiny Tales’ at the end adds to the sense that the book is happiest when it is delivering mini comic strips, rather than driving a plot forward.

By the end, it’s clear that Tiny Hercules is on a collision course to become an annoyingly permanent housemate for Jeff, as he attempts to complete a fresh set of terrible tasks dictated by party-pooping Zeus. Tiny Hercules turns ancient myth into a fun-sized joke machine – occasionally messy, frequently very funny – and it feels engineered for sequels (of which there are clearly plenty on the way).