Warwick Hutton

I've just rediscovered the work of Warwick Hutton, a British author and illustrator of retellings--mythological, biblical, folk and fairy tales of all sorts. Hutton's illustrations are rendered in delicate pen-and-ink and watercolor wash and characterized by spacious sea and landscapes; oversized yet oddly graceful figures, of both people and animals; and lots of interesting compositional elements. We own only one of his books, a retelling by Susan Cooper of The Silver Cow: A Welsh Tale (Atheneum, 1985), in which the Tylwyth Teg reward a farmer's son for his playing of the harp with a beautiful, bountiful silver cow--until the greedy farmer goes a bit too far, and loses her and all the silver cows that had been born to her: the treasures of his herd. (Hutton also illustrated Cooper's retelling of The Selkie Girl; I don't like selkie stories, so I haven't read that one.)

I especially like Hutton's own retellings of Greek myths, though; these include Theseus and the Minotaur (my favorite), Perseus, and Persephone, as well as the Homeric stories of The Trojan Horse and Odysseus and the Cyclops. All of these are, sadly, out of print. Hutton himself, who was also a painter and, like his father John, a glass engraver, died in 1994 at the age of 45. I've added his books to my "must buy if I see them at the used book sale" list. They are really lovely.

Captain Cat and the Count of Monte Cristo

There are lots of cats at sea this year, many of them on board the Carlotta in Captain Cat by Inga Moore (Candlewick, 2013). This is a rambling retelling (I mean that in the best possible way--I like a little rambling) of an Italian tale about a trader who arrives on an island overrun by rats only to be richly rewarded for his cargo of cats. Other traders follow, expecting more of the same, but in turn they are rewarded...with kittens! Moore's illustrations of captain and cats of all colors are charming, although I could have done without the neat rows of rat corpses lined up on the Royal Palace floor.

This is one of my favorite folktales: I first ran across it in The Thread of Life: Twelve Old Italian Tales retold by Domenico Vittorini and illustrated by Mary GrandPre (Running Press Kids, 1995). I was working on my own retelling, since abandoned, when Martha Hamilton and Mitch Weiss retold it as Priceless Gifts (illustrated by John Kanzler; August House, 2007). I wish everyone had better source notes for it, though (Hamilton and Weiss cite Vittorini, and Moore doesn't cite anyone at all). Apparently, islands overrun by rats are quite common in folktales.

And in real life, too: recently the island of Montecristo (see: Count of), in the Tuscan Archipelago, attempted to eradicate its population of black rats. Only now they use rat poison.

 It looks a lot like the rocky, remote island in Captain Cat, actually!

Merlin

We're all watching Merlin, the BBC series (on NBC and Syfy in the US, and now via Netflix), and enjoying it immensely. It has politics and intrigue; swordplay, romance, and magic: something for everyone (I'm not saying who likes what best, but my thirteen year old son and nine year old daughter are equally taken with it. Their parents, too). It's also sent me on a quest of sorts, for Arthurian reading material to suit each of us. An excuse to revisit old favorites, really (White and Stewart, for me, and probably Gerald Morris's Knights' Tales for the kids), but I hope to discover some new ones. Any recommendations?

Waiting on Wednesday: A Question of Magic

Fans of Baba Yaga stories whose appetite was whetted by Jillian Tamaki's retelling in Fairy Tale Comics (First Second, 2013) can look forward to E.D. Baker's middle grade novel A Question of Magic (Bloomsbury), available October 1. Here's the publisher's description:

"Serafina was living the normal life of a village girl, when she gets a mysterious letter--her first letter ever, in fact--from a great aunt she's never heard of in another village. Little does 'Fina know, her great aunt is actually a Baba Yaga, a magical witch who lives in an even more magical cottage.

Summoned to the cottage, Serafina's life takes an amazing turn as she finds herself becoming the new Baba Yaga. But leaving behind home and the boy she loves isn't easy, and as Serafina grows into her new and magical role answering the first question any stranger might ask her with the truth, she also learns about the person she's meant to be, and that telling the future doesn't always mean knowing the right answers."

[Me again.] So Serafina becomes Baba Yaga! Presumably she doesn't eat any little children. I didn't know Baba Yaga answered questions, either, but maybe that's because she doesn't like to--they age her (I know how that feels). Thanks to Jennifer at Jean Little Library for her review of A Question of Magic, which made me want to read the book; I'm glad I don't have long to wait.

[Apparently there is an Ask Baba Yaga advice column of sorts! Cryptic and completely unrelated to the book, though.]

Fairy Tale Comics with bonus Baba Yaga

This collection of Fairy Tale Comics: Classic Tales Told by Extraordinary Cartoonists (edited by Chris Duffy; First Second, 2013) first caught my eye at Charlotte's Library (it's on a blog tour). Fairy tales are my weakness: I might be a reluctant reader of graphic novels in general, but even I can't resist a collection of fairy tale comics. There are 17 different tales here, each adapted and illustrated by a different cartoonist, so there's lots to choose from in terms of both story (a nice mix of mostly familiar and some not-so tales) and style. I'll follow up with my favorites, too.

In the meantime, take a sneak peek at the entirety of Baba Yaga, as retold by Jillian Tamaki for Fairy Tale Comics, over at Tor.com. The collection will be available in print 9/24.

[Based on the cover art of Little Red Riding Hood (and laughing wolf) by Eleanor Davis, I was especially looking forward to that one, but it turns out that Gigi D.G. retold it (with female woodcutter) in the book!]

Caldecott Hopefuls: Rabbit's Snow Dance

A traditional Iroquois story retold by James and Joseph Bruchac and illustrated by Jeff Newman, Rabbit's Snow Dance (Dial, 2012) has a spot on the cover that seems ready-made for a Caldecott award sticker (one hopes): right there on Rabbit's drum. Newman's illustrations, rendered in watercolor, gouache, and ink, also have a sort of mid-century modern style that's maybe a little unexpected here (the PW review calls it "a welcome departure from the stodgier artwork that can often accompany myths and folk tales"): that's what I love about this one.

That and the Bruchacs' text [not among the Caldecott criteria, of course], which will have you and any little readers among you chanting "I will make it snow, AZIKANAPO!" right along with Rabbit: it's really a great read-aloud.

[For more on the story's sources, see this letter from Joe Bruchac at Debbie Reese's blog American Indians in Children's Literature; it will appear in subsequent printings. For more on Newman's illustrations, including storyboards, sketches, and finished art, see this post at 7-Imp (where else?). For more from me, I do think there is some inconsistency in the way Rabbit is depicted: sometimes more stylized, sometimes cartoonish, sometimes (as seen on the title page, and at right, falling from the tree) adorable. "AAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHEEEEEE!"]

The ballad of Long Lankin, for Poetry Friday

Debut author Lindsey Barraclough's YA novel Long Lankin was inspired by the eponymous old English ballad (Roud Folk Song Index 6) in which Long Lankin, aided and abetted by a nursemaid, murders a lady and her infant son--by pricking him all over with a pin (shiver):

"Where's the heir of this house?" said Long Lankin. / "He's asleep in his cradle," said the false nurse to him.
"We'll prick him, we'll prick him all over with a pin, / And that'll make my lady to come down to him."

The baby's cries bring his mother, and she dies in Long Lankin's arms.

Barraclough sets her retelling of the ballad in postwar England: Sisters Cora and Mimi are sent from London to stay with their great-aunt Ida in the coastal village of Bryers Guerdon, but Auntie Ida, stern and secretly terrified, doesn't want them there. Of course, Cora and Mimi disregard her warnings (Ida doesn't even want them in the great big house alone) and go straight to the forbidden church and graveyard. Don't they know they're in a gothic horror story? Sigh. Poor Mimi.

Books that Cook: The Runaway Wok

[Books that Cook: A very occasional feature in which the Books Together Test Kitchen (that would be me and my kids) prepares a recipe from the back of a picture book.]

The Runaway Wok: A Chinese New Year Tale by Ying Chang Compestine (illustrated by Sebastia Serra; Dutton, 2011) doesn't overflow with rice (more's the pity, because the Festive Stir-Fried Rice recipe we tried was really good)--it's based on a traditional Danish folktale, The Talking Pot, instead. I found the economics (not to mention the ethics) of The Runaway Wok a little problematic, actually: the wok steals from the selfish, rich Li family to give to the poor, generous Zhang family. The Zhangs share the wealth with all the poor people of Beijing at a New Year's feast. And then they open up a wok shop!

Ying Chang Compestine, who has written a number of cookbooks as well as children's books, includes an informative Author's Note about the Chinese New Year. She says, "The most significant dish for children is the festive stir-fried rice, cooked in a wok. The various ingredients in this dish represent harmony and happiness. Parents urge their children to eat it so they will get along in the coming year." We'll see.

Notes from the Test Kitchen

  • This recipe works best with day-old rice. We used brown rice to make it extra-healthy. 
  • Feel free to make substitutions, like cubed fresh mango (instead of dried cranberries) and cashews. Delicious! I just hope it doesn't void the "harmony and happiness" clause.

Pocketful of Posies

Maybe the skill and artistry of Salley Mavor's hand-stitched, sewn, and collaged illustrations for Pocketful of Posies: A Treasury of Nursery Rhymes (Houghton Mifflin, 2010) are best appreciated by other needleworkers, but their appeal is so much greater than that--after all, Pocketful of Posies is a Horn Book Fanfare Best Book of 2010 and an ALA Notable for Younger Readers.  I hope it received serious consideration for the Caldecott, too.  At our house, every page has been pored over and marveled at multiple times, and it's inspired lots of reading and singing, collecting and making.

My favorite are the double-page spreads, which often illustrate several nursery rhymes in a single scene.  The one below includes Humpty Dumpty (an actual egg!), Peter Piper, and Two Little Blackbirds.  It's dfficult to appreciate the richness of the color, the depth and detail of the original in this image; nothing I've found on the internet comes close to the photographic quality of the printed book.

Or, of course, the real thing: the original illustrations from Pocketful of Posies, with new embroidered felt borders and shadowbox frames made by Salley's husband, are being exhibited in a traveling show.  At this point, most of the locations are in New England.  [Charlotte, please go on my behalf.]

Fortunately, there is plenty of information about Mavor's process available online: this interview with Salley at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast is a good place to start.  And if you'd like to make little dolls like these, Mavor's Felt Wee Folk: Enchanting Projects (C&T, 2003) is a great resource.  There's even a section of Projects for Children to Make.  Also for those of us who still struggle with the French knot.

Rubia and the Three Osos

Goldilocks and the Three Bears is a family favorite; I think I own more retellings of it than any other story (with the possible exception of Little Red Riding Hood).  This one, Rubia and the Three Osos by Susan Middleton Elya; illustrated by Melissa Sweet (Hyperion, 2010), is a lot of fun, as you can tell by the cover image of the bears and Rubia (Spanish for blonde, or in this case, Goldilocks) having a singalong.  They've even hung some papel picado!

Susan Middleton Elya's rhyming text is sprinkled with Spanish words for the essential elements of the story--bears, bowls, chairs, beds and their identifying adjectives.  No one does this better than Elya; previous favorites of hers include Oh No, Gotta Go! illustrated by G. Brian Karas (Putnam, 2003) and Bebe Goes Shopping illustrated by Stephen Salerno (Harcourt, 2006).  I'm not sure how effective this approach is at actually teaching Spanish--I generally prefer bilingual editions that tell the story in English and Spanish separately rather than mixing them up--but it's undeniably fun to read aloud.  Here's a sample:

[The bears] headed away, but the door wasn't locked.
Then who should come over, so daintily frocked?

Little Miss Rubia, curls made of oro.
"¿A tiny casita, for me? ¡La adoro!"

She opened la puerta and saw the fine food.
"¡Sopa!" she said. "I am so in the mood!"

Fans of Melissa Sweet will want Rubia and the Three Osos, too.  The colors and landscapes in her playful watercolor and mixed-media illustrations for this book were inspired by a trip she took to the American Southwest (from the flap copy); the details, too, are distinctly southwestern--from the cactus to the cowboy boots.  The bears themselves could be the Hispanic cousins of the ones in her illustrations for Jane Yolen's Baby Bear books.  That Papi Bear has a temper, though!

Aside: I remember reading Sweet's short essay in the Horn Book about her palette, which she said is "basically the same as Winslow Homer's, with the exception of one [color] called Opera" (January/February 2010).  Mama Bear's coat?  Opera.

[Check out Abuelo y los Tres Osos by Jerry Tello; illustrated by Ana Lopez Escriva (Scholastic, 1997) for a bilingual retelling of the Goldilocks story with a similar southwestern flavor.  In this one, the bears are having frijoles.]

Rococo Rapunzel

Does this scene look familiar?  It might, if you've recently seen a certain computer-animated adaptation of one of my favorite fairy tales.  The good news is I liked it a lot more than I thought I would based on the trailer (which was not at all).

The bad news is it doesn't really resemble Fragonard's The Swing (which, coincidentally enough, I also saw recently, at the Wallace Collection), although the animators referenced the painting for inspiration (Bill Desowitz, "Chicken Little and Beyond," Animation World Network, 11/4/2005).  The more I look at it, though, the more I notice elements of The Swing--the palette, the frothiness of the flowers and leaves--that did make it into the movie.  Oh, and this iconic image:

Have you seen Tangled?  What did you think?

Hansel and Gretel, costume design by Zwerger and Stemple

The costume and set design for the Amherst Ballet's Hansel and Gretel is faithful to Lisbeth Zwerger's watercolor illustrations of the Grimm tale, "right down to the shingles on the witch’s house [and] the patterns hand-printed on the dancers’ skirts" (Shop Talk, 8/25/2010).   If you know me at all, you'll know that I love this project.  Premiering at the Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art.

The Vanishing of Katharina Linden

For the grownups, The Vanishing of Katharina Linden by Helen Grant (Delacorte, 2010), reviewed in the Washington Post (8/23/10).  There's a lot to recommend this novel to adult readers of children's books, especially ones that have something to do with the Grimms (and there are an awful lot of them, readers and Grimm books alike):  the heroine, 10-year-old-Pia (and her only friend, StinkStefan), the setting, a small town in Germany; and the local folklore and traditions that inform the whole story.  PW describes it as a "charming horror novel" (4/12/2010).  I try to stay away from horror novels of any sort, but just look at that gorgeous yellow cover.

Pinkney's Lion and the Mouse lie down with the lamb

Or rather, the antelope.  One of my favorite details of Jerry Pinkney's Caldecott Medal-winning The Lion and the Mouse (Little, Brown, 2009) is the homage to Edward Hicks's Peaceable Kingdom paintings (with Serengeti animals) on the back cover, under the dust jacket.  Pinkney discussed the influence of Hicks and other artists on his work in The Lion and the Mouse in an interview with Reading Rockets ("A playful, peaceable kingdom"). 

We have a Peaceable Kingdom at the National Gallery, and I look forward to sharing Pinkney's interpretation of the theme with visiting students alongside Hicks's.  Thank you, Mr. Pinkney, and congratulations!

[Sadly, I don't have a digital image of Pinkney's Peaceable Kingdom to post; but you'll want to peek under the dust jacket of your own copy to find it anyway.]

Firebirds

Milly and I read lots of retellings of the Russian fairy tale Firebird prior to seeing the Center Dance Company's performance of the ballet this afternoon.  You might want to put on some Stravinsky and read them, too.

Best before the ballet:  The Firebird by Jane Yolen; illustrated by Vladimir Vagin (Harper Children's, 2002).  Yolen's retelling follows the Balanchine ballet, so if you see a performance inspired by Fokine (as we did), you might be surprised by the business with the magical egg.  I really like the way Vagin illustrated the story at the top of the page and its performance on stage across the bottom.  N.b., Jane Yolen trained at Balanchine's School of American Ballet.

Lovely to look at:  The Tale of the Firebird by Gennady Spirin; translated by Tatiana Popova (Philomel, 2002).  So the Firebird looks like a peacock: Spirin's illustrations, full-page watercolors and delicate, detailed borders, are exquisite.  This is an original version of the Firebird story adapted from three Russian fairy tales and features a gorgeous gray wolf and our old friend Baba Yaga as well as Koshchei and, of course, the Firebird herself.

Milly's favorite.  The Firebird by Demi (Henry Holt, 1994).  If you like Demi (and we do), you'll love her Firebird. It's all red and gold and there are little animals everywhere.  The art doesn't feel Russian to me, but the text is based on Ransome's translation of Afanasiev, and it reads aloud nicely.  The paperback edition of this book was for sale at today's performance; we didn't buy it, but Milly did get to bring home one of the Firebird's red feathers [thanks, Brenda!].

What's your favorite Firebird?