Review: Mysterious birds, angry roosters and a No

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Annelies Judson reviews three new picture books.

Alice and the Strange Bird, written and illustrated by Isaac du Toit

Isaac du Toit is a talented artist, and illustrated multiple picture books before the age of 20. Last year he won the Tertiary Student Artist Award from Toi MAHARA gallery and also released his first book as an author and illustrator, Possum Boots. Alice and the Strange Bird, released earlier this year, is his second.

The book is the true story of Alice McKenzie, who at the age of seven encountered a bird in a remote area of Fiordland called Martin’s Bay. For years, McKenzie assumed she had seen a takahē (thought to be extinct at the time). As an adult, she encountered a takahē specimen at a museum which didn’t look like the bird she had remembered, leading to speculation that what she had seen was in fact a moa.

The story is written well, and at an appropriate child reading level. In my experience, non-fiction books (even in narrative format) can sometimes include too much information, at the expense of readability, but this does not fall into that trap. Plus it’s just a great story, and if you hadn’t heard of Alice McKenzie beforehand (as I had not), it’s a great entry point into an ecological mystery that might never be solved.

The illustrations for the book (and many of du Toit’s other books) are mixed media, in more ways than one. He creates a diorama of the scene for the illustration using various materials, which is impressive enough, and no doubt quite an undertaking. But then he photographs the scene he wishes to use as the illustration, capturing not the entire diorama, but the exact part of it that he needs to give the right emotional tenor and artistic quality to the page. The process appears to be very considered. It’s a very characteristic style, and the way the shadows play on the pages gives a slightly ethereal quality to the pictures, which is perfect for a story set in misty, mysterious Fiordland, about a mysterious bird. It is worth looking at du Toit’s Instagram for further insight into his art.

I can see this being a great book to capture the imagination of adults and children alike, and also would be an awesome launching point for a teacher to discuss issues about extinction, moa, takahē, the veracity of recounts, and to lead the class into an investigation of the question that du Toit poses at the very end—the question that has intrigued me since I first read the book: Did Alice actually see a moa?

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Calm The Farm by Sarah O’Sullivan, illustrated by Bec Brown

I have to start this review by mentioning the cover of Calm The Farm. It’s so wonderfully captivating and humorous, with the angry rooster and slightly crazy layout of the title juxtaposed with the subtitle, A Beautiful Mindfulness Yarn. I know we shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but this one is bound to capture interest in bookshops and libraries.

The book is a how-to guide to mindfulness that uses a group of farm animals to illustrate various mindfulness techniques (slow breathing, mindfully eating, going for a walk). It uses the well known ‘zones of regulation’ concept to explain how the animals feel at different times. The choice of a cocky, loud rooster as the angry (red zone) animal is a great idea, and contrasts well with the calm illustrations of the other farm animals that the rooster is bothering with his angry behaviour. The explanations of the way the rooster’s behaviour impacts the other animals are a little oblique, but with support from an adult reader it is easy to clarify things that little people might not pick up on immediately.

The back of the book includes information for adults on how to practise mindfulness techniques with children, plus some links to audio of short, guided mindfulness sessions, created by author Sarah Sullivan. Sullivan has facilitated the Pause, Breathe, Smile programme in primary schools, so is clearly aware of the needs and motivations of this age group.

The writing uses some classic techniques like repetition and rhyme, so it’s good to read aloud and sounds like an actual story, rather than just a vehicle for a list of mindfulness methods. I do think the story is a little too long to be enjoyed as a regular read by a picture book target audience, but it would be a great resource for starting discussions about mindfulness, and as a reference point that children can relate to when they feel themselves in the red zone.

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Jo and the No by Kyle Mewburn and Judy Watson

I was very upset to see, when I Googled Kyle Mewburn’s name, that she is described by Google as an ‘Australian writer’. While this is technically correct, she has lived in Aotearoa for the last 25 years, and is a much loved and well known part of the New Zealand children’s literature community.

One of the things I love about Mewburn is her openness about the ups and downs of the publishing world. The market at the moment means that even well known authors are struggling to have books published, something that Mewburn has talked about. So it is great to see that she has not one but two new books out: Go, Scooter, Go and the subject of this review, Jo and the No.

The story cleverly captures how what starts as a little bit of hesitation ends up being a safety net that stops Jo experiencing the fear of the unknown. The main character, Jo, who is illustrated as a small, nameless creature, is joined by the metaphorical No, illustrated as an ever-changing cloud of colours and dots and squiggles. The No stops Jo doing things, until one day they realise that they want to do things, and that the No will just have to come with them.

This leads into Jo dragging and cajoling the No through various adventures—a metaphor for the hard work it takes to overcome fear and resistance—and the story peaks at a beautiful moment that perfectly captures the complexity of the human experience: when the No starts to disappear, Jo doesn’t want it to go, even though it has been a burden.

… exploring that basic fodder for writers for time immemorial, the human condition

In less capable hands, this lyrical explanation of fear could have been too highfalutin for a young reader, but I think even reasonably young readers will be able to see the story for what it is: an extended metaphor. It is to Mewburn’s credit that it manages not to be moralistic, instead exploring that basic fodder for writers for time immemorial, the human condition.

Significant credit must be given to illustrator Judy Watson, whose task in representing a concept as a character was a challenging one. She cleverly moves the No between formlessness (the shifting clouds) and metaphorical form (at one point as an anchor, another as hand-like shapes, another as a haystack) while keeping the essence of the No so perfectly clear that there is no doubt on each page where the No is, and what impact it is having on Jo. It is a story that would have struggled to work had Watson not been able to capture the No in both its physical and metaphorical capacity, and she has done it extremely well. 

I am very gratified to see that the front cover says ‘Kyle Mewburn and Judy Watson’, giving both writer and illustrator equal credit. (Many books have the author named alone, followed by ‘Illustrated by…’, implying a certain hierarchy that illustrators tend to bristle at.) In this case, the equal billing is certainly deserved.

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