Love is an expansive thing. It's so vast that quantifying it is
impossible, and even verbalizing it poses a considerable challenge. But
countless writers have taken up the topic, trying to find new ways to
describe a feeling whose essence is so elusive. Number among these
authors Sam McBratney, who penned the achingly tender Guess How Much I Love You.
Illustrated by Anita Jeram with ink and watercolor, using mostly a
palette of greens and browns, this endearing tale finds Little Nutbrown
Hare and Big Nutbrown Hare, a father-son pair with tawny fur and long
ears, engaged in a gentle competition with one another. Each time the
younger hare phrases his love for his father in the most monumental
terms he can muster, the older reciprocates with an even more impressive
metaphor.
"I love you all the way down the lane as far as the river," cried Little Nutbrown Hare.
"I love you across the river and over the hills," said Big Nutbrown Hare.
Just this exchange constitutes a two-page spread; most follow a similar
pattern. The hares are adorable, gangly but still very cuddly, grinning
at one another with deep affection, Little Nutbrown often clinging to
some aspect or another of his pop's fur, exerting his individuality with
acrobatic displays of his talents or, as the book winds to a drowsy
close, allowing his father to scoop him up and cradle him gently in his
paws.
Though the characters are not humans, this soothing
story is an ideal way to reinforce the strength of the love that a
child's parents have for him or her. Longer
than a hare's ears ever grew, Big Nutbrown Hare loves Little Nutbrown
Hare, and theirs is a bond that will only become closer with time.
Bedtime stories don't get much more comforting than Guess How Much I Love You!
Reviews and essays, including all my reviews posted on Epinions from 2000 to 2014.
Showing posts with label Sam McBratney. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Sam McBratney. Show all posts
Monday, March 5, 2007
Saturday, February 17, 2007
McBratney and Eachus Demonstrate the Beauty of Friendship and Forgiveness
It's a wonderful thing to have a friend, but even the best of friends
sometimes fight. Especially when they are in toddlerhood, when minor
inconveniences can seem like disasters, small affronts unpardonable
offenses. But if it's especially easy for children that age to get into a
fight, they may also be the ideal models for the rest of us in how to
end a conflict, repairing a treasured friendship.
Sam McBratney, author of beloved picture book Guess How Much I Love You?, turns his attention to this delicate topic in I'm Sorry, a perfect primer for young children on how to handle disagreements with their playmates. The writing is very simple, with a sentence or two on each page, usually demonstrating a give-and-take between the narrator, a little boy who looks to be about four, and his very special friend.
"I have a friend I love the best," he says. "I think she's nice, and she thinks I'm nice, too. The things we do always make me laugh." In the first half of the book, he tells us what some of those things are. Then he repeats these three sentences before transitioning into the second half with the ominous "But..."
We observe the quarrel between these friends, though not what precipitated it. The cause isn't really all that important, and leaving it ambiguous gives this book the widest possible applicability. What matters is that once the disagreement has occurred, all the joy and light is gone from the faces of these pals. They miss each other. It may be hard to admit, but they do, and so the book ends with the inevitable reparation alluded to in the title. "If my friend were as sad as I am sad, this is what she would do:" the boy concludes. "She would come and say, 'I'm sorry,' and I would say sorry, too."
Jennifer Eachus' luminous illustrations are absolutely gorgeous. She tells the story so effectively with her soft palette of pastels that the words don't even seem necessary. Each page shows the open-hearted, exuberant brown-haired boy and the slightly more timid girl whose head is topped with wispy blond locks engaged in some activity or another, often accompanied by the boy's patient dog. We see him reading to his teddy bear, her wrapping a bandage around his hand; him stretching to pluck down a flower for her from a tree in full bloom, her running ahead of him as they splash through mud puddles.
The pictures are irresistibly gentle; you want to immerse yourself in them, to wrap yourself in their warmth. I can't imagine a more comforting book to read to a child who has just experienced the turmoil of such an argument for the first time, and adults can benefit too. No matter how many times a person has gone through this scenario, it's nice to be reminded that friendships can usually be repaired with a little effort from both parties. All it takes is two little words.
Sam McBratney, author of beloved picture book Guess How Much I Love You?, turns his attention to this delicate topic in I'm Sorry, a perfect primer for young children on how to handle disagreements with their playmates. The writing is very simple, with a sentence or two on each page, usually demonstrating a give-and-take between the narrator, a little boy who looks to be about four, and his very special friend.
"I have a friend I love the best," he says. "I think she's nice, and she thinks I'm nice, too. The things we do always make me laugh." In the first half of the book, he tells us what some of those things are. Then he repeats these three sentences before transitioning into the second half with the ominous "But..."
We observe the quarrel between these friends, though not what precipitated it. The cause isn't really all that important, and leaving it ambiguous gives this book the widest possible applicability. What matters is that once the disagreement has occurred, all the joy and light is gone from the faces of these pals. They miss each other. It may be hard to admit, but they do, and so the book ends with the inevitable reparation alluded to in the title. "If my friend were as sad as I am sad, this is what she would do:" the boy concludes. "She would come and say, 'I'm sorry,' and I would say sorry, too."
Jennifer Eachus' luminous illustrations are absolutely gorgeous. She tells the story so effectively with her soft palette of pastels that the words don't even seem necessary. Each page shows the open-hearted, exuberant brown-haired boy and the slightly more timid girl whose head is topped with wispy blond locks engaged in some activity or another, often accompanied by the boy's patient dog. We see him reading to his teddy bear, her wrapping a bandage around his hand; him stretching to pluck down a flower for her from a tree in full bloom, her running ahead of him as they splash through mud puddles.
The pictures are irresistibly gentle; you want to immerse yourself in them, to wrap yourself in their warmth. I can't imagine a more comforting book to read to a child who has just experienced the turmoil of such an argument for the first time, and adults can benefit too. No matter how many times a person has gone through this scenario, it's nice to be reminded that friendships can usually be repaired with a little effort from both parties. All it takes is two little words.
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