I love squirrels. I’ve spent leisurely mornings at my grandparents’
house gazing out their sliding back door at the squirrels scampering
through the trees and fighting over space in the birdfeeder. I’ve
accompanied my dad on the four-hour drive to his faculty senate meetings
in State College just so I could spend the hour or so during his
meeting outside tossing peanuts to the insatiable rodents, which are so
used to people in that location that they sometimes take nuts right out
of my hand. I’ve been the proud but frustrated owner of a squirrel
feeder since middle school. For some reason the bushy-tailed bandits
don’t like to venture into our yard; it may have something to do with
the cats…
At any rate, I am magnetically drawn to these critters, so when I first spotted Micawber,
John Lithgow’s delightful tale of an artistically inclined squirrel, I
was enchanted. At the time, my only familiarity with Lithgow was as an
actor, and I wondered whether his authorship had more to do with the
perks of his fame than any particular writing talent. My fears were
immediately allayed as I settled into the cadence of his cleverly rhymed
story. I have always been a fan of books in rhyme, and Lithgow has
particular skill for this brand of writing. He begins with a simple ABAB
scheme, which he works from throughout the remainder of the tale,
expanding it when appropriate. There is a musical quality to his lines,
their intricate internal rhymes, alliteration and rhythm providing a
feast for the ears to match the visual glory of the illustrations.
Authors such as J. K. Rowling refuse to shy away from the use of
advanced verbiage in writing intended for children; Lemony Snicket even
manages to work in overt vocabulary lessons in his Series of Unfortunate Events.
Despite the brevity of this book and its placement in the young
children’s section of the bookstore, its lexicon is befitting a book
concerning itself with the fine arts. Delicious terminology leaps out
from the page, some of which I’d never even encountered before. Rare is
the picture book that will incorporate such words as appraise, scrutinize, beguiler, cadmium, vermillion, alizarin, transom and the incomparable peregrination, not to mention the squirrel’s unusual nomenclature.
C. F. Payne’s delightful artwork has graced the back page of Reader’s Digest
for months, and his engaging blend of detail, emotion and humor brings
to mind Norman Rockwell. The comparison is especially appropriate here,
as the book’s final image is a brilliant parody of Rockwell’s famous
self-portrait, with Micawber peeking at his reflection in the mirror,
glasses and all. Payne has a knack for capturing ordinary moments with
extraordinary splendor, and Micawber springs to life under his worthy
hand. The squirrel’s bright eyes and beguiling face grace the cover, his
paint-dipped tail providing a clue as to the direction the book will
take.
Several two-page spreads feature a full-page
illustration facing a white page containing only a few lines of text and
several spatters of paint. Micawber appears in every picture, though it
is sometimes hard to spot him, sneak that he is. We watch as his eyes
light up with inspiration after witnessing a local artist imitate the
works in the art museum he loves. His innate sense of mischief is most
perfectly displayed towards the middle of the book, when he discovers
color. His hands clasped together gleefully, face set in a slightly
demonic smile, he surveys the results of squeezing several tubes of
paint onto a waiting palette. Payne also charmingly captures the
oblivious nature of his benefactor, a bespectacled woman with plenty of
art supplies to spare.
This book sold me on Lithgow and Payne.
Their combined talents create one of the most beguiling books I have
encountered recently, and I commend them both. Micawber is sure
to delight rabid squirrel fans like myself and appreciators of fine art,
but its witty style and lavish illustrations are sure to draw in fans
from all walks of life.
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