A picture is worth a thousand words

 

Cordell, M. (2017). Wolf in the Snow. Macmillan.

This book is rather interesting when considering it for evaluation in that, barring onomatopoeia, there is no text. So this evaluation will instead focus entirely on the art, as it its the means of telling the story.  There is a lot of intentionality in regard to direction that is seen in the beginning as our two protagonists come to meet one another.

Heading home after school 

Wolf pack on the move

It continues in this way as the two move closer and closer together in a way that builds the tension and anticipation of what will happen when they do meet. Let's also talk about line and definition. In the images above the humans in this story lack definition and detail, making them feel soft and fragile, almost an abstraction of a human. The wolves on the other hand are very realistically drawn, those teeth and the lolling tongue as their hot breath condenses in the air just exudes danger. Their fur is sketch-like, with wild tufts and tray ink lines giving them a sharp appearance when compared to the soft yellow loops of the background. We see this much more starkly later in the story, when the lost wolf pup and child meet the rest of the wolf pack.  

Eyes lock, danger is felt, who will move first?

 Here, at the climax of the story we zero in, the rough circles bringing our focus directly to the eyes of these two characters. The child looks vulnerable, scared, but unwavering. The wolf is a wild animal. It was a strong choice to present the danger of this situation so predominantly, wolves are wild animals after all. A lesser story may have decided to soften this, but it's what makes the protagonist's bravery and compassion compelling, something that is eventually rewarded when the wolves help their family find them huddled up and cold. 

There are many aspects of this story that could be considered, as it has a whole lot to say despite having no words. The art is compelling, rich, emotive, and the choices made are self-evidently deliberate. Perhaps, one day, I will write a very long evaluation of that work, but alas, I do not have the space for it today.

 

 

Love, J. (2018). Julián is a Mermaid. Candlewick Press.

Another book with very minimal text, and one that hits close to home as a transgender woman. Love's surrealist watercolor illustrations give the entire work a fluid, dream like quality. Lines are incredibly minimal, with color being the primary means of drawing the eye to particular parts of the page. 

The contrast between the mermaid and the background, and eventually the splashes of the sea green watercolor seep in to take over the background as Julián begins to imagine life as a mermaid. 

Huge shocks of brilliant colors lead the reader's eye from page to page, until it is time to get off the train.

 

The scenes where we follow Julián and Abuela through the city are by no means drab, with bright yellow bricks and pastel pink walls, but after Julián's technicolor imaginings, they feel quiet and muted. The implied passage of time though the drastic changing of backgrounds, when taken in combination with the sparse text leads one to believe that Julián is contemplating what the experience on the train meant.  

 

This really spoke to me as a very real experience and mirrors one of my own when I realized I was transgender (not to say that Julián is, boys can be mermaids, Julián could also be a girl mermaid if Julián so chose, but the text does invite the comparison). 

 

I was 23 and working in an office with many other queer people. One of my coworkers (who was over six feet tall) was wearing a duster that went down to their ankles. For the first time I actually watched how it moved in the air, and something just clicked. My mind worked frantically for the next ten minutes trying to make sesne of what I was feeling while I just stared at my coworkers back. Eventually someone noticed me staring and that led to a long conversation about gender, but that moment of wild imagining followed by deep contemplation as Julián watches the girls play in the fire hydrant holds a lot of truth. 

 

Near the end of the book, once Julián's Abuela decides to take Julián to the join the mermaids, the world springs to life once more with color Just comparing the stoop of the house before and after is rather revealing of the intent and use of the color in this book. 

Before

After 

 

This ultimately tells the story of, in a world where Julián can be accepted as Julián's truest self as a mermaid, the world is more colorful and better off for it. 

 

A final thought, I think it is rather special that this story focuses on non-white trans and gender non-conforming people. Very often you get one or the other (because god forbid someone be both queer and brown), so that also makes this book rather special.