Never, not even in Sweden, have I seen a children's book with quite so much nudity! I hasten to add that not one single nipple or penis is gratuitous, and that the author's intentions, as always, are entirely laudable. She just wants to demystify the concept of sexual modesty, reassure little girls that they're not alone in wondering if they'll ever grow proper breasts, and tell their parents kindly but firmly that, at a certain age, their daughters will appreciate being left alone at bath-time.
And she does a splendid job. I particularly liked the visit to the museum, with Max ogling the Rubens, cousin Victor checking out Valentine's navel-baring top and Lili desperately trying to avoid looking at anything. Responsible, informative, and tastefully amusing. But even so, I still wouldn't recommend reading it on the subway.