Jan Brett Tackles a Traditional Classic in Goldilocks and the Three Bears

I have always loved stories about bears. One of the first of these tales to enchant me, and many other youngsters, was Goldilocks and the Three Bears. I’ve seen many different versions of this story, some straightforward, some with an unusual spin. Jan Brett, one of my favorite author-illustrators, came out with The Three Snow Bears a couple years back, and I found it a wonderful take on the classic story with an Inuit twist. But I hadn’t realized that she also tackled the tale in a more traditional form. If I were going to introduce a young child to the story now, I think Brett’s Goldilocks and the Three Bears might just be the version I would pick.

Brett retells the tale, but it’s such a simple story with such familiar contours that as I read it for the first time, it felt like the story I’d my parents read to me when I was a toddler. A note on the copyright page indicates that the book was adapted from The Green Fairy Book, edited by Andrew Lang. I wonder if I ever ran across that version… At any rate, it seems Brett didn’t have to change much. She worded things in her own way, and there’s a certain elegance to the sentences, but it’s also basic and repetitive enough that young children will be able to recite along with the bears’ exclamations before long.

The book features only four characters, at least in terms of having anything to do with the story at hand. Goldilocks is a little girl with long golden braids who stumbles upon the cottage of the three bears while they are away from home, out enjoying a morning walk. Brett does not actually give the bears names, merely descriptions. So instead of Papa, Mama and Baby Bear, we have “a little, small, wee bear,” “a middle-sized bear” and “a great, huge bear.” Every time she mentions the bears, she uses this precise terminology.

Goldilocks and the bears alike wear clothing that shows a Scandinavian influence. The book never indicates what country we are supposed to be in; my guess would be Norway, but I’m not certain. I love the vibrant colors and the intricate patterns, and I especially love the bears’ cozy home, which is entwined with trees and rather resembles the abode of an Ewok, the teddy bear-like indigenous Endor residents from Return of the Jedi. It’s completely charming.

One thing I appreciate about this version is that it allows me to sympathize with Goldilocks more than usual. I mean, she really is a pretty presumptuous girl, but Brett presents her in such a way that she merely seems endearingly curious, not to mention exhausted and hungry after her disorienting trek through the woods. Nobody ever seems to give Snow White a hard time for making herself at home in the house of the seven dwarfs, but I tend to see Goldilocks as more of a mischief-maker than a girl in distress. Here, it’s easier to see her in a positive light, making me wonder whether she would actually flee the bears at the end of this story or if they would take pity on her and befriend her.

One of the most distinctive attributes of Brett’s books is her use of borders. In this book, it’s not as pronounced as in some, but on several pages, the narrow strips on either side of a two-page spread offer a window into what is happening elsewhere in the tale. If the main painting shows the bears at home preparing porridge, we see Goldilocks on her way in the border. If she is the primary focus of the two-page spread, we see the bears on the sides, wandering through the woods. Additionally, these borders give us a glimpse of a family of mice, or at least a representation of them. It looks as though they are carved in wood, and the design is quite lovely.

I can always count on Jan Brett to come up with appealing takes on folktales, some of which are familiar to me, some of which aren’t. Few tales have been with me as long as Goldilocks and the Three Bears has, and it’s wonderful to see it in such great hands.

Mark Kimball Moulton's Reindeer Christmas Encourages Generosity

One of the first Christmas gifts I remember receiving from my aunt Nancy is an autographed copy of Jan Brett‘s Annie and the Wild Animals. Several years later, she presented me with Stranger in the Woods: A Photographic Fantasy by Carl Sams and Jean Stoick. In between and since, she has given me many nourishing books, but I thought of these two in particular as I read Mark Kimball Moulton’s Reindeer Christmas, for this is the story of an older relative instilling in the children she loves the importance of compassion and generosity, specifically toward hungry creatures in the winter.

In this book, beautifully illustrated by Karen Hillard Good, who uses drab colors to give the paintings an old-fashioned look, two children live with their grandmother. They make it a point to share their food with the wild animals lurking near their cozy home, and when they find an injured reindeer, they quickly welcome it in and nurse it back to health. After they send the animal on its way, they come to realize just how special a guest they housed when Santa sends them a remarkable gift to express his gratitude for restoring a member of his team.

I always find it interesting to take a peek at the dedication page, and I found the sentiments here especially moving. Kimball writes, “This story is dedicated to everyone who truly believes in the wonder of the season,” while Good, more personally, dedicates the book “to Dad, for all of those magical walks through the forest when I was a kid, and Mom, who always had the hot chocolate ready when we came home.” Though we don’t see a mom or dad in the book, this family is very close-knit, and all of them certainly appreciate the wonder of the season.

One thing I like about this book is that even though it’s a story about Santa Claus and his reindeer, the Reason for the Season is subtly incorporated throughout its pages. Around the house hang signs reading “Peace,” along with a drawing of the Nativity. The text itself mentions Christ, and in his thank you note to the family, Santa talks about praying. And this is a beautifully written tale, composed of rhyming couplets and incorporating rich vocabulary like “filigree,” “regal” and “luminescent.”

“Luminescent” is a good word to describe this book. As warm as a tray of gingerbread cookies fresh out of the oven, as heartfelt as the decoration applied to those cookies by tiny hands, Reindeer Christmas is a gorgeous tale of light and kindness.

This Beauteous St. Patrick's Day Book Glitters Like an Emerald

Though centuries have passed since my dad's ancestors came over from Ireland, I like to think of myself as Irish. Heck, my name even means Ireland, and it goes so nicely with McCarty, an Irish name if I ever heard one, though it would be nice if everyone weren't so inclined to make it "McCarthy". March is a fine month for all folks of Irish descent, or those who just want an excuse to drink green beer, which seems to be the case for half the people in my city, as evidenced by the lines around the block near every bar and pub in town on March 17th. For me, though, the fun of St. Patrick's Day hasn't anything to do with getting sloshed.

Eve Bunting's St. Patrick's Day in the Morning is likewise devoid of inebriation, unless it's of the Rocky Mountain High sort. Young Jamie, who has been told he is too young to march in the St. Patrick's Day parade, won't let the naysayers stop him. He's determined to drink in the joy of the occasion with his own procession up verdant Acorn Hill, flute to his lips, flag in his hand, black hat on his head, fringed sash on his shoulder, shaggy dog Nell by his side.

Jan Brett's illustrations are gorgeous as always, though the style is different than I am used to. These seem to be line drawings, while most of Brett's books are richly painted. The color palette is limited, consisting of only shades of green and yellow along with the black. This no doubt was a deliberate choice meant to accentuate the emerald tone of Ireland in general and this day in particular. Additionally, there is no clever border, which is a staple of most of Brett's books, but I suppose that's because this was not a solo project for her. At any rate, the stretches of lush grass, broken up by white stone fences, thatch-roofed houses, drowsy white sheep and the occasional shaggy donkey are stirring, and Jamie is adorable with his wavy hair, impish grin, forest green sweater (probably hand-knit by his mother, and much like the ones Piggley wears on Jakers!) and too-big boots.

The writing style has a lyricism to it, with the occasional bits of dialogue adding to the Irish flavor with such snippets as "It's the terrible noise you're making, Jamie Donovan" from a cranky woman leaning out her window to "You're the early ones" from a kindly shopkeeper who welcomes Jamie and Nell inside for a special pre-dawn treat. Descriptions such as "the mountains were as green as cats' eyes" and "the sun jumped up like a firecracker" contribute to the story's beauty.

St. Patrick's Day in the Morning is an endearing tale with a mystical touch to it. Children who know what it's like to feel left out of something because they're too small will appreciate Jamie's pro-active solution, and anyone with a love of Ireland can get a kick out of the artful words and pictures. Just watch out you don't turn green with envy of those who are able to greet St. Patrick's Day on the Emerald Island itself!

Brett's Borders are Windows into a Rich and Detailed World

Annie and the Wild Animals is the book that started my Jan Brett collection, and I actually own two copies of it, one in hardcover and one in soft. My aunts gave me the hardcover as a Christmas gift in 1987. Four years later, one of those same aunts gave me the book for a second time, this time autographed by the author. Her autographs are especially neat, as she not only signs her name but adds a small illustration.

Many of Brett’s books are based on folktales, but as far as I can tell this one is an original. It follows the story of Annie, a little girl with blond, braided hair and crystal blue eyes living in a cozy cabin with her cat Taffy. When Taffy, who has been acting strangely lately, disappears, Annie becomes very lonesome in her little house surrounded on all sides by snow and trees. It’s the dead of winter, and Annie has no one with which to share her home. Determined to find a new pet, Annie leaves corn cakes at the edge of the forest with ever more disastrous results. She does attract animals, yes, but none suitable to replace her lost furry companion. What’s worse, the animals are hungry and she is running out of corn cakes…

This book contains far less text than Town Mouse Country Mouse, and the print is much bigger. Even more than in that book, the illustrations in this book tell the story, with many layers to be found upon close inspection. The words are very sparse and only tell in the most basic of terms what is going on. The full-page illustrations are very detailed and well-done, but it is in the borders that the most detail lies. Brett often asks her readers to look beyond the obvious and look for the deeper story. With Brett more than any other illustrator, I have learned that illustrations are a literary vehicle which can be read just as carefully, and with just as many rewards, as words.

Each border is very different. For instance, on the page wherein Taffy vanishes, the border features an array of snowflakes, and four small pictures show Taffy making her way across the snow, past birds and a rabbit, and into a cozy tree. Another border, on the page featuring a bear whom Annie decides is too grumpy for a pet, has a wooden-looking trim with pictures of wolves and deer, who will come for the next round of corn cakes, and a small glimpse of Taffy, who is nestled in the tree hollow with her three newborn kittens. The illustrations extremely detailed, and the animals’ personalities are well defined. One of the best illustrations features a jumble of irate bears, cantankerous moose, snappy wolves, agitated deer, and leering bobcats, all impatiently waiting outside Annie’s cabin for their next meal.

The illustrations really do the talking in this story, and they do it extraordinarily well. It doesn’t matter that there aren’t very many words here. The old adage “a picture is worth a thousand words” certainly applies here. A couple of lingering questions: How did Taffy get out? This isn’t too problematic; I assume she probably found some hole in a corner somewhere that she could squeeze through; after all, she’s obviously been outside at least once before. The more persistent question: What is a little girl doing living all by herself in a cabin in the middle of nowhere? And where does she get her food from? But these questions are mere curiosities and certainly don’t detract from the book, whose illustrations you can return to again and again, finding something new each time.

There's No Place Like Home, and No Illustrator like Jan Brett

Most people have heard the story of the town mouse and the country mouse. It’s an old tale that has appeared in many different manifestations over the years, but few versions are more charming than that of writer/illustrator Jan Brett. One of my absolute favorite illustrators, Brett puts incredible detail into every one of her illustrations. Each page is a work of art.

Town Mouse Country Mouse follows two different storylines, alternating pages between the adventures of the town mouse and his wife and the country mouse and his wife. The first two-page spread in the story (though not in the book – the prior three pages are lavishly illustrated as well) establishes the surroundings that each couple is used to, and it isn’t difficult to see that the transition from one setting to another is going to be rather difficult. The town mice dress lavishly in silk and glittery jewels, lounging atop an elegant clock. The country mice, meanwhile, dress in rags; one wears an outfit fashioned out of ferns and flowers. They sit anxiously on the roof of their tree stump house, which is covered with greenery and whose windows sport mushroom awnings.

The town mice are more proactive than the country mice, heading straight for the woods when the husband recollects his idyllic childhood there. The country mice at first just daydream about the abundant cheese in town, but when the town mice stop outside their door they propose a housing trade. Both parties agree enthusiastically to the deal, but none of the four mice have any idea of the dangers in store.

We do, however, as each full-page illustration is framed on each side with a picture detailing the activities of the creature that will ultimately be the mice’s most powerful adversary. For the country mice, it is the cat, dressed in brown pants and a sleeveless gold-trimmed shirt decorated with flowers over a white silk shirt. He is shown in such domestic pursuits as cooking and curling up for a nap in the kitchen and speaks in rhyme when addressing the mice, reminiscent of the giant in Jack and the Beanstalk. The silent owl is far more threatening, swooping from branch to branch and scanning for prey against a stormy sky. His clothes are much simpler: red overalls and a plaid shirt. It takes longer for him to locate the mice, but when he does he is even more frightening than the cat is to the country mice.

The border around the picture changes with each page. As the country mice and town mice agree to switch houses, the trim is of pine needles with fungus and pine cones at the corners or tips. Other borders include yarn with button corners, pencil with postage stamp corners, and feathers and branches with maple leaf and helicopter corners.

While the illustrations are the book’s selling point, the story as told in words is very nice a well. At about 50 to 150 words per page the text propels the story along. The carefully chosen dialogue and description fits the mood of the illustrations perfectly.

Town Mouse Country Mouse is filled with beauty and humor and leaves the reader with the message that when it comes right down to it, there’s no place like home. The illustrations are a joy to pore over, from the mouse hairs so carefully drawn that they could be counted to the town mice’s corduroy slipper bed whose soft ridges are so lifelike they are nearly tangible. A masterpiece from cover to cover, this is not a picture book to be missed.

Trolls, Northern Lights, and a Polar Bear who is Definitely Not a Kitty

Last year when I went to see Jan Brett read at our local Border’s, Who’s That Knocking on Christmas Eve was the book that she read from. As we waited in line to get our books signed, we were given a small booklet explaining some of the history behind this latest book in Brett’s catalog of books. While this book is based on an old Norwegian folk tale, Brett incorporates into it the Aurora Borealis, or Northern Lights, which fascinated her when she saw it several years ago. The booklet also contains information on the geography, customs, and clothes found in Finland; the trolls wear fashions from 500 years ago, while the children wear more modern clothes. Also included is a brief note about the model for the polar bear in the story, which can be seen at the Brookfield Zoo outside Chicago.

The most immediately apparent feature of this book is that it is much larger than a typical children’s book. For example, I bought hardcover editions of both this and The Hat at the book signing, and while the two are essentially the same width (as a matter of fact, The Hat is very slightly wider), this book is taller by 2 ? inches. This leaves plenty of space for the expansive illustrations, as well as the text, which is a pretty important part of this book.

A boy from Finnmark is making his way towards Oslo with his “ice bear,” a large polar bear. During his journey, he comes upon a cozy home where a young girl, Kyri, is preparing Christmas dinner in her father’s absence. He is off patrolling the mountain to keep away the trolls who are fond of stealing their holiday feast. Kyri invites the boy and the bear in, and the trolls decide to drop by for dinner. As much as they try, the children cannot keep the trolls from nabbing their dinner, but their luck changes when the trolls discover the bear, whom they mistake for a “kitty”...

Each illustration is framed by a window on either side set in an ornate wooden design. Along the bottom of each page, the text rests on a snow bank, with large snowflakes settled in the corners of the page. Each of the windows depicts something that is currently happening, either with one or both of the children, the bear, the trolls, or Kyri’s father. The top of the page features the night sky, in which the Aurora Borealis is stretched out and surrounded by troll constellations. The trolls are entertaining fellows, full of mischief but, as Brett said, really not evil creatures. They are more like silly children who are misbehaving. Their prominent features include their outlandishly out of date dress, bulbous noses, pointy ears, and spiky hair.

One nice thing about this book is the detail with which Kyri’s home is rendered, providing a nice glimpse of Norwegian culture. As in The Hat and Annie and the Wild Animals, these are two very self-sufficient children. Kyri does live with her father, but she does all the cooking and is able to care for the house on her own for a little while. It’s interesting that nearly all of Brett’s books which I have read take place in winter. She certainly does a good job of presenting a frosty winter’s night. This Christmastime folktale is a perfect one to curl up with and enjoy by the fireplace.

"You Ridiculous Little Hedgehog. Don't You Know That Animals Don't Wear Clothes!"

When I heard last winter that Jan Brett would be coming to Erie for a free book reading and signing, I knew I had to attend. The event was on a school day, but later than my morning class and leaving plenty of time, or so I thought, until my afternoon class. I hadn’t counted on the large number of people gathered at Borders to listen to Brett read and have her sign a copy of one of her books. In addition to the many adult fans of Brett’s work, some looking to add to their own collection and some thinking ahead towards Christmas for those special children in their lives, there were several school groups queued up to meet the author/illustrator. Most of them were a bit more savvy than Mom and I and had come to Borders in advance to secure a spot in line. This had never occurred to us, so we walked in twenty minutes before the reading and were handed tickets indicating that 230 people would be in line ahead of us. I ended up giving Shakespeare a miss that day.

All this is leading up to the fact that we purchased this book, The Hat, along with Brett’s newest book, Who’s That Knocking on Christmas Eve?, at the signing and had her put her distinctive mark on both. In this book, there is a picture of Hedgie the hedgehog just before the title page. Above Hedgie, Brett wrote “Love *squiggle* Jan Brett,” and below that, a heart. On the tip of Hedgie’s nose, she drew a stocking, so that the picture now looks like Hedgie about to get into the same situation in which he finds himself in the book.

Hedgie is a small hedgehog based on Brett’s own pet, Buffy. Brett was inspired to write this book after finding Buffy stuck in a slipper sock, held fast by her prickles. She traveled to Denmark to the hometown of Hans Christian Andersen and spent hours committing the place to her sketchpad for use in this book.

The story begins with young Lisa taking out her winter clothes and hanging them on the line to air out. One stocking blows away and lands on the unfortunate Hedgie, who cannot remove it because it is stuck on his prickles. Throughout the remainder of the book, Hedgie covers his embarrassment by telling the other animals he encounters that the stocking is a hat. The animals all laugh, but by the end of the book the tables are turned.

This book contains more words than Annie and the Wild Animals, primarily because of the dialogue between Hedgie and the other animals. The print is still the same size, however, and the text is still much sparser than in Town Mouse, Country Mouse. It is fun to observe through dialogue how the different animals interact with Hedgie.

The illustrations are, as usual, delightful. Hedgie encounters a hen with her chicks, some geese, a striped orange cat, a dog (a German shepherd, perhaps?) and her puppies, a pig and her piglets, and a pony. The intricate features of the animals and the bright color of Lisa’ winter clothes offset the bleak winter landscape that fills the pages. As is the case with all of Brett’s books, or at least the ones I’ve read, the border plays a very important role here.

The borders are fairly uniform in this book, always with what appears to be a wood base with red semi-circles at the bottom and either a floor or table of varying color. Each page has two ovular windows, one on either side of the mirror, and a long oblong one on the top, except in the first and last two pages when the top one is replaced with a large bow. The border around the windows is different on each page, but each retains a specific purpose throughout the book. The window on the left shows the activities of Lisa, while the one on the right shows which animal Hedgie will encounter next. The top window keeps track of the clothesline, foreshadowing the ending of the book.

The Hat is another fine addition to Brett’s body of work with its silly premise and evocative illustrations. As in Annie, this little girl appears to live alone; I guess that Brett would probably prefer to keep adults, at least human adults, out of her work as much as possible, as children would generally rather read about other children and animals. Brett’s young characters are independent and self-sufficient, and this, I imagine, makes them all the more palatable to young readers.

This is not the only book in which Hedgie plays a part, incidentally. He has become a particularly beloved character for Brett and her readers, having also appeared in Hedgie’s Surprise. Meanwhile, The Hat is a companion book to Brett’s The Mitten, in which a boy loses a mitten and it is discovered by a wide variety of animals, all of whom want to take advantage of its warmth. Another endearing tale by Brett and her crew of animal characters.