Slowly I am making my way through Poly Bernatene’s picture books. The Argentinian illustrator is astoundingly good, and very prolific. His latest book, Ribbit! is, like the others, a feat of illustration. Unlike the others, there is no blue, as in the colour blue. There are wonderful greens and pinks, but for anyone who has seen When Night Didn’t Come, The Tickle Tree, or The Santa Trap, they will understand, Bernatene immerses his illustrations in deep sapphires and lustrous periwinkles. Nevertheless, what Ribbit! lacks in blue, it more than makes up for in the number and quality of frogs, and a friendly, if slightly misunderstood pig.
Beautiful Griselda is a fairy tale about the perils of narcissism and the difficulty of keeping your wits about you, especially the parts of your anatomy containing your wits, when confronted by the object of your desire. I think we can all relate…to a degree.
Princess Griselda is beautiful. Really, gobsmackingly beautiful. Everyone who casts their eyes upon her lovely visage falls head over heels in love with her. Literally. Their heads pop off like corks. Griselda is greatly amused by this, and makes a collection of her admirers, varnishing their heads and placing them under glass or on the walls like stuffed trout. Yes, grisly Griselda is a bit of a monster, more interested in perfecting her lethal form of beauty and growing her ’collection’ than finding a nice little froggie to kiss. Lucky froggies.
To keep the princely heads rolling, Griselda’s daily beauty ablutions include bathing in cold spring water, slurping juice from sour Tasmanian fruit, posing in crystal shoes, and of course, stray hair removal, courtesy of her ladies in waiting (to have their heads pop off.) And, like all narcissists of the royal persuasion, Griselda takes more than a little pleasure in knowing that people throughout the land are obsessed by her beauty, misinterpreting fear for admiration.
And yet…a mirror makes for poor conversation, and even the self-absorbed get bored…
Buy it, or borrow it. That’s my recommendation, and the sum of my review.
When Night Didn’t Come is beautiful, astonishingly and almost indescribably beautiful, and it belongs in the library of anyone who appreciates, collects, and occasionally slobbers over illustrated children’s books of the most exquisite quality. No, you can’t have my copy.
Poly Bernatene’s recent publication is a wordless picture book, and I’m not entirely sure I would have been able to follow the narrative without the description on the back, and of course, the title. It begins at sunset with a yawning sun. The sky darkens, but the glow remains. Where is the moon? Where is the night? And why is the sky full of dirigibles?