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Posts Tagged ‘Enchanted Lion’

02 APRIL, 2014

Winston and George: An Illustrated Ode to Friendship, with an Incredible Creative Journey 50 Years in the Making

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A beautiful and bittersweet redemptive triumph.

In 1956, a twenty-something New Yorker named John Miller left Gotham for Rome to live the life of an aspiring writer, following in the expat footsteps of his heroes, literary legends like Ernest Hemingway, Gertrude Stein, and F. Scott Fitzgerald. There, he befriended Italian artist Giuliano Cucco, and the two created a beautiful series of four nature-inspired picture books. But when Miller returned to New York in 1966, carried on the wings of enormous enthusiasm for the collaboration, he quickly smashed against the realities of an industry which the great Ursula Nordstrom once accurately described as being run by “mediocre ladies in influential positions.” Publishers deemed the imaginative and uncommon books too unmarketable — not mainstream enough — or too costly to produce, given the vibrant colors of the illustrations.

John Miller (left) and Giuliano Cucco in the 1960s

Discouraged but not resigned, Miller followed the typical fate of the New Yorker and changed many apartments over the decades that followed, but he carried the manuscripts and portfolios faithfully with each move, until they ended up in the attic of his house in upstate New York. All along, he knew there was something very special about these books — as did the friends he showed to whom he showed the manuscripts over the years.

It was his friends, too, who encouraged him to resurrect his efforts to find a publisher nearly half a century after the books were created. Eventually, the manuscripts found their way to Muriel Bedrick, the mother of Claudia Zoe Bedrick, head of Enchanted Lion — the wonderful Brooklyn-based independent picture-book publisher that quietly and consistently churns out such award-winning treasures as Alessandro Sanna’s The River, Mark Twain’s Advice to Little Girls, Blexbolex’s Ballad, Øyvind Torseter’s The Hole, and Albertine’s Little Bird. Bedrick instantly fell in love with the heart and art of the books and decided to publish the series. The news came as exquisite creative redemption for 80-year-old Miller, who rushed to get a hold of his old artist friend. (He and Cucco had lost touch over the years.) But when he finally reached the artist’s sister, he was devastated to learn that Cucco and his wife had been killed in a motorcycle accident in 2006, but his son was thrilled to hear about the long-awaited creative validation.

And so the debut of the first book in the series, Winston and George (public library), is a bittersweet feat — an exuberant triumph for Miller after decades of harbored hopes, and a posthumous tribute to Cucco, who never lived to see his dream come true.

But the book itself counters the tragedy with its boundless hopefulness and celebration of life: It tells the story, both playful and poignant, of the unusual friendship between Winston the crocodile and George the crocodile bird who love each other dearly but who have to withstand a flurry of hazards to remain together. It’s a beautiful ode to what true friendship means and to what it necessitates — the unconditional acceptance of each other’s flaws, the ability to see past the surface behavior and into the deeper intention, and the capacity to defend the sanctity of the relationship from the poison of outside pressures.

Winston and George live happily together, fishing in the jungle river as pilot and co-pilot — perched up on the tip of Winston’s nose, George would look into the water for fish and shout “DIVE!” at the opportune moment. Winston would snap the fish up, then the two would share a delicious meal ashore.

But George has one rather irksome quirk: he likes to play pranks on Winston and the other crocodiles. He would fly over and cry “DANGER! DANGER!” just to see them startle from their afternoon nap and dive into the river, or he would push sleeping Winston off the shore into the water, so that his friend awakes in the middle of the water three miles down the river and has to swim back until after sundown.

Irritated, Winston’s crocodile friends would urge him to simply eat George to put an end to the pranks. But the idea is unthinkable to Winston.

In one particularly misplaced prank, Winston and George were coasting down the river in their usual arrangement when George, upon spotting a pile of mud rather than a fish, issued his customary command for Winston to dive.

Down Winston dove, but instead of a fish he found his snout stuck firmly in the mud.

It was very funny at first to see a crocodile’s feet and tail kicking and wagging in the air. But when George realized that his friend was stuck, he grew frightened.

George calls on the other crocodiles and the hippos for help but, fed up with his pranks, they agree to only help Winston if George agrees to accept the fate he deserves for his mischief and let himself be eaten by Winston. Desperate to save his friend’s life, George agrees and the crocodiles and hippos make a long chain to pull Winston out, tugging and tugging.

With one final yank, Winston flew over their heads and landed on a far shore.

Eventually, the crowd gathers around Winston and urges him to gobble up George. Puffing a mighty cloud of mud from his nostrils, Winston demonstratively agrees and opens his giant jaw for George to climb in.

Reluctantly, George stepped over Winston’s sharp teeth and stood inside, waiting for his end to come.

Winston snaps his jaw and emits a loud burp, which pleases the others enough and they disperse satisfied. But the end, of course, is not the end:

Winston opened his jaws, and there was George, alive as ever, safe on his friend’s soft tongue.

George has learned his lesson, but has also felt the bonds of friendship tighten as the two souls expand.

Winston and George is unspeakably magnificent, and the screen does absolutely no justice to Cucco’s rich and enchanting illustrations. Complement it with more of Enchanted Lion’s treasures, including My Father’s Arms Are a Boat, Little Boy Brown, and The River.

Images courtesy of Enchanted Lion

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27 FEBRUARY, 2014

The River: Exploring the Inner Seasonality of Being Human in Gorgeous Watercolors by Italian Artist Alessandro Sanna

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A beautiful reminder that despite its occasional cruelties, life is mostly joyful, radiant, and above all ever-flowing.

“Love the earth and sun and the animals….read these leaves in the open air every season of every year of your life,” Walt Whitman wrote in the preface to Leaves of Grass. In The River (public library) from Enchanted Lion — the wonderful Brooklyn-based independent picture-book publisher that gave us such treasures as Mark Twain’s Advice to Little Girls, Blexbolex’s Ballad, Seasons, and People, the existentially profound The Hole, and the boundlessly soul-stirring Little Bird — Italian illustrator Alessandro Sanna exposes with remarkable sensitivity that gossamer connection between the physicality of the land and our transcendent experience of the passage of time, the inner seasonality of being human. Through his soft watercolors shines the immutable light of existence.

In each of the four chapters, a new season unfolds, beginning with autumn and ending with summer, and out of it spring to life vignettes of different experiences along the banks of a shared river, waves of permanence and impermanence washing together. A subtle recurring motif of opposing forces — subjugation and release, celebration and solitude, fear and freedom — reverberates throughout the nearly wordless visual narrative, at once stretching it sideways and pulling it together into a vortex of coherent emotion.

For Sanna, who lives on the banks of the Po River in central Italy, this deeply personal project, years in the making, is in many ways a meta-meditation on the passage of time and the unfolding of life, in constant flux even at a seemingly static locale.

Glowing with quiet optimism, Sanna’s vibrant, expressive illustrations whisper to us that, despite its occasional cruelties, life is mostly joyful, radiant, and, above all, ever-flowing. As his river flows, one can almost see adrift in it the words of Henry Miller:

It is almost banal to say so yet it needs to be stressed continually: all is creation, all is change, all is flux, all is metamorphosis.

The River is easily the most breathtaking book to come out so far this year. Complement it with more of Enchanted Lion’s heartwarming treasures, such as My Father’s Arms Are a Boat and Little Boy Brown, both of which were among the best picture-books of 2013.

Images courtesy of Enchanted Lion Books

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05 NOVEMBER, 2013

Little Boy Brown: The Loveliest Ode to Childhood and Loneliness Ever Written, Illustrated by Legendary Graphic Designer André François

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A timeless story of humanity and belonging, wrapped in a charming time-capsule of a bygone era.

“I didn’t feel alone in the Lonely Crowd,” young Italo Calvino wrote of his visit to America, and it is frequently argued that hardly any place embodies the “Lonely Crowd” better than New York, city of “avoid-eye-contact indifference of the crowded subways.” That, perhaps, is what children’s book writer Isobel Harris set out to both affirm and decondition in Little Boy Brown (public library) — a magnificent ode to childhood and loneliness, easily the greatest ode to childhood and loneliness ever written, illustrated by the famed Hungarian-born French cartoonist and graphic designer André François. Originally published in 1949, this timeless story that stirred the hearts of generations has been newly resurrected by the wonderful Claudia Zoe Bedrick, whose Brooklyn-based indie picture-book publisher Enchanted Lion has given us such heartening gems as Mark Twain’s Advice to Little Girls, Blexbolex’s Ballad, Seasons, and People, the breathtaking My Father’s Arms Are a Boat, and the boundlessly soul-stirring Little Bird.

This is the tale of a four-year-old boy living with his well-to-do mother and father in a Manhattan hotel, in which the elevator connects straight to the subway tunnel below the building and plugs right into the heart of the city. And yet Little Boy Brown, whose sole friends are the doormen and elevator operators, feels woefully lonely — until, one day, his hotel chambermaid Hilda invites him to visit her house outside the city, where he blossoms into a new sense of belonging.

Underpinning the charming tale of innocence and children’s inborn benevolence is a heart-warming message about connection across the lines of social class and bridging the gaps of privilege with simple human kindness.

Hilda’s mother kissed me before she even knew who I was!

[…]

Hilda’s family is smarter than we are. They can all speak two different languages, and they can close their eyes and think about two different countries. They’ve been on the Ocean, and they’ve climbed high mountains. They haven’t got quite enough of anything. It makes it exciting when a little more comes!

The story itself, at once a romantic time-capsule of a bygone New York and a timeless meditation on what it’s like feel so lonesome in a crowd of millions, invites us to explore the tender intersection of loneliness and loveliness. François, who studied with Picasso, illustrated a number of iconic New Yorker covers, and belongs to the same coterie of influential mid-century creative legends as Sir Quentin Blake, Tomi Ungerer, and his close friend and collaborator of Ronald Searle, brings all this wonderful dimensionality to life in his singular illustrations, all the more special given this was his first children’s book.

Immeasurably wonderful, Little Boy Brown is without exaggeration one of the loveliest picture-books of all time, with layers upon layers of meaning rediscovered with every read and each new look at François’s infinitely expressive illustrated vignettes, to which the screen does absolutely no justice.

Images courtesy of Enchanted Lion Books

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