Jan Ormerod (1946–2013)

Bear indulges the demanding Maudie in this picture-book from Australian author/illustrator team Jan Ormerod and Freya Blackwood, displaying endless patience and self-denial in his dealings with the pint-sized human in his care. Whether waiting for Maudie to get ready, after her declaration that they should get some exercise, or forgoing a snack (that he prepared), because she has decided that the table looks too good to be disturbed, he is ever ready to fall in with her ideas, and to work to show more fulfill her desires. He scrubs floors on his hands and knees, fixes special meals on demand, bicycles Maudie up steep hills, carries her on his shoulders when out walking, and apologizes (with treats!) when he has wounded her pride. He never snaps, he never disagrees, and he never - even when exhausted (no doubt from all that work!) and dropping off to sleep - says no.

My tags tend to have descriptive, rather than editorial names: things like "childrens-fiction," or "russian folklore." Recently however, inspired by some of my more inventive online friends, I created my very first editorial tag, "out-of-step-with-the-zeitgeist," to keep track of children's books that promote social ideas that are quite widespread - the paramount importance of inculcating self esteem; the idea that setting limitations of any kind is akin to stifling a child's imagination, and is an act of cruelty - but with which I disagree. Maudie and Bear is definitely the kind of book that belongs on this shelf! I don't really understand how anyone could find the relationship chronicled here cute, although many reviewers obviously do, but as someone who has had to pick up after over-indulged children, I found it depressing. Now I know what home-life was like for the little terrors who would come into the bookstores where I worked, and proceed to tear everything off the shelves...

ETA: the artwork by Freya Blackwood - the entire reason I picked up the book - was simply gorgeous. I thought there was something almost 1920s-style about Maudie, with her little red hat. It's a shame that the story wasn't as charming! show less

Again, Ormerod's art hits me so that my heart aches for the beauty of the child, even though the odd hairstyle is distracting this time. And the illustrations are set up a bit like a comic, several panels per page, so much more is going on than what's happening in just the few words. I'd recommend this to any child who has ever loved or wanted a pet, and any adult (like me) who undervalues the importance of a pet.

Based upon the stories passed down in her family, Australian-born children's author and illustrator Jan Ormerod has crafted a beautiful picture-book examination of a child's life in the bush, during Australia's pioneer days. Living in an isolated house, fifty miles from the nearest settlement, Lizzie sees only her father and mother, and her baby sibling, from day to day, and when her father must haul his sandalwood into town, her small circle narrows even further. It is her imaginative play show more - what her mother calls nonsense - that passes the time, and makes life bearable...

A sensitive look at the importance of make-believe, in the lives of children, Lizzie Nonsense is also a poignant, heart-warming family story, set at a dramatic moment in Australian history. The narrative immediately sucked me in, and the illustrations, done in watercolor, greatly increased my enjoyment. The two interact beautifully together - I loved the way that Lizzie's mother is saved from seeming brusque, with her constant declarations of "nonsense," by the humor in the illustrations, which reveal her sympathy for her daughter - which is a hallmark of a great picture-book. A lovely tale, one I would recommend to any young reader looking for pioneer tales. It would make an excellent companion piece to similar stories about American and Canadian settlers. show less

Oh, oh, my goodness. Something about this just hit me deep & piercing. Honestly, it made me cry. Maybe it was the rhythm that made me feel the passage of day after day, or the watercolors that made me feel as if I could hear the kookaburra & smell the eucalyptus. Maybe it was just empathizing with how Lizzie and the mother feel when the father comes back. Maybe it was a subconscious nostalgic connection with Wilder's Little House books.

Not really a sad book, but intense, lovely, show more illuminating. I would love to know how children, best ages 4-8, feel about it. I will give my copy to my son and encourage him to make grandchildren so they can learn from this book about the soul of the Australian pioneers, and about the soul of any family that has to deal with separations.

ETA - read again June 2012; still love it - it really is amazing and it made tears come to my eyes again. show less