By B. J. Novak
A book with no pictures at all, and one iron rule: whoever is reading has to say every single word out loud, no matter how ridiculous.
There are no pictures in this book. Just words on plain pages, in different sizes and colors. But here's the trap: the book explains, right away, that the rules are simple, everything the words say, the person reading has to say. And then the words start doing this on purpose. They make the grown-up announce that they are a monkey who taught themselves to read. They force out nonsense sounds like BLORK and BLUURF. They make the grown-up confess that their only friend in the whole wide world is a hippo named Boo Boo Butt. The grown-up keeps protesting that this is a very silly book and they don't want to say these things, and then has to say them anyway, which is the entire joke, and a child will make you read it again the second you finish.
It flips the usual deal on its head. Normally the grown-up is in charge of story time; here the words are in charge of the grown-up, and the child gets to sit back and watch a trusted adult be gloriously silly on command. That reversal is intoxicating for a young child, and it does something sneaky for a reluctant reader too, because it shows that words alone, with no pictures at all, can be the funniest thing in the room. There is nothing to draw and nothing to look at, and it's still a riot, which is a small argument for reading itself.