Ingri d'Aulaire (1904–1980)
Author of D'Aulaire's Book of Greek Myths
About the Author
Disambiguation Notice:
Please do NOT combine this page with that of Edgar Parin D'Aulaire nor with any of the author pages that include both their names, nor any author page using only the surname. See "Who Should/Shouldn't Get combined" on the Author wiki page. Thank you.
Image credit: Ingri D'Aulaire
Works by Ingri d'Aulaire
Associated Works
Sidsel Longskirt and Solve Suntrap: Two Children of Norway (1935) — Illustrator — 14 copies, 1 review
Tagged
Common Knowledge
- Canonical name
- d'Aulaire, Ingri
- Other names
- Mortenson, Ingri (birth name)
d'Aulaire, Ingri - Birthdate
- 1904-12-27
- Date of death
- 1980-10-24
- Gender
- female
- Occupations
- children's book author
children's book illustrator
artist - Awards and honors
- Catholic Library Association Regina Medal (1970)
Caldecott Medal (1940) - Relationships
- D'Aulaire, Edgar Parin (husband)
Mortenson, Dagny (sister) - Short biography
- Ingri d'Aulaire (1904-1980) was an American children's artist and illustrator, who worked in collaboration with her husband and fellow artist, Edgar Parin d'Aulaire. Born Ingri Mortenson in Kongsburg, Norway, she studied art in Norway, Germany and France, and met Edgar Parin d'Aulaire when she was a student in Munich. They married in 1925, and immigrated to the USA shortly thereafter, settling in Brooklyn in 1929. After pursuing separate careers initially, the couple turned to illustrating children's books together, releasing their first collaborative effort, The Magic Rug, in 1931. They settled in Wilton, Connecticut in 1941, and lived there until their deaths in the 1980s. Awarded the 1940 Caldecott Medal for their picture-book biography of Abraham Lincoln, the d'Aulaires published other children's biographies, as well as some notable works on Greek and Norse mythology. (source: Wikipedia)
- Nationality
- Norway (birth)
USA (naturalized) - Birthplace
- Kongsberg, Norway
- Places of residence
- Munich, Germany
Paris, Île-de-France, France
Brooklyn, New York, New York, USA
Wilton, Connecticut, USA
Norway - Place of death
- Wilton, Connecticut, USA
- Disambiguation notice
- Please do NOT combine this page with that of Edgar Parin D'Aulaire nor with any of the author pages that include both their names, nor any author page using only the surname. See "Who Should/Shouldn't Get combined" on the Author wiki page. Thank you.
Members
Reviews
Originally published in 1972, and reprinted in 2006 by the New York Review Children's Collection, this charming introduction to the world of Norwegian trolls is not as extensive as the D'Aulaires' Book of Greek Myths, nor D'Aulaires' Book of Norse Myths (also known as D'Aulaires' Norse Gods and Giants), but it is still a delightful exploration of the legends surrounding these mythological creatures. It happens also to be a book I remember with great fondness from my own childhood, and I have show more happy memories of poring over the illustrations, and reading and rereading the tales of the many-headed mountain trolls, beautiful hulder-maidens, and hard-working gnomes contained within.
Like the authors' other mythological works, this is less one continuous narrative, than it is a series of expository passages, together with a number of different tales. Here is the story of the brave young man who defeats a twelve-headed mountain troll, rescuing the twelve daughters of the king held captive by him; and here too is the tale of the very first trolls, known as frost giants. The reader quickly gets a sense, from the diversity of tales and trolls, of the importance of these creatures in the Norwegian folk tradition.
Rereading this as an adult, I was particularly fascinated by the tales concerning the hulder-maidens, and what they might reveal about old Norse ideas of exogamy. (I imagine that stories in which Irish men marry fairies could be examined from a similar perspective). It's instructive to note that in those cases in which marriage with a hulder-maiden resulted in the man being absorbed by his wife's people, the outcome was seen as negative: he is lost to his people, goes to live underground, and eventually loses his soul. By contrast, when the hulder-maiden is absorbed by the human community, the outcome is seen as positive: the maiden's cow-tail falls off, following the marriage ceremony, she gains a soul through her husband (Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid springs to mind here), and the couple experience good fortune, provided the husband treats his wife well.
Of course, those readers less interested in the anthropological interpretation of folklore - like children - can still appreciate this collection of tales, but it was a great pleasure to reread D'Aulaires' Trolls as a more mature reader! I'm not sure why the New York Review Children's Collection reprinted it as D'Aulaires' Book of Trolls (perhaps they wanted the title to read like their more famous work on Greek myths?), but I am certainly glad that this wonderful book is available to readers again. Highly recommended to any D'Aulaire fan who has not yet had the pleasure of reading it, as well as anyone interested in Norwegian folklore and Norse mythology. show less
Like the authors' other mythological works, this is less one continuous narrative, than it is a series of expository passages, together with a number of different tales. Here is the story of the brave young man who defeats a twelve-headed mountain troll, rescuing the twelve daughters of the king held captive by him; and here too is the tale of the very first trolls, known as frost giants. The reader quickly gets a sense, from the diversity of tales and trolls, of the importance of these creatures in the Norwegian folk tradition.
Rereading this as an adult, I was particularly fascinated by the tales concerning the hulder-maidens, and what they might reveal about old Norse ideas of exogamy. (I imagine that stories in which Irish men marry fairies could be examined from a similar perspective). It's instructive to note that in those cases in which marriage with a hulder-maiden resulted in the man being absorbed by his wife's people, the outcome was seen as negative: he is lost to his people, goes to live underground, and eventually loses his soul. By contrast, when the hulder-maiden is absorbed by the human community, the outcome is seen as positive: the maiden's cow-tail falls off, following the marriage ceremony, she gains a soul through her husband (Hans Christian Andersen's The Little Mermaid springs to mind here), and the couple experience good fortune, provided the husband treats his wife well.
Of course, those readers less interested in the anthropological interpretation of folklore - like children - can still appreciate this collection of tales, but it was a great pleasure to reread D'Aulaires' Trolls as a more mature reader! I'm not sure why the New York Review Children's Collection reprinted it as D'Aulaires' Book of Trolls (perhaps they wanted the title to read like their more famous work on Greek myths?), but I am certainly glad that this wonderful book is available to readers again. Highly recommended to any D'Aulaire fan who has not yet had the pleasure of reading it, as well as anyone interested in Norwegian folklore and Norse mythology. show less
Well-loved books from my past
Rating: 4* of five
Ingri and Edgar Parin d'Aulaire were a married couple of Euro-origin, he Swiss and she Norwegian, who came to the US in the 1920s to pursue fame and fortune. Edgar was an illustrator for books, magazines, and the like, while Ingri painted rich guys' portraits. Came the Depression, oh dearie me...everything got harder...so the two collaborated on writing and illustrating kids' books together. For forty-plus years, the couple turned out beautiful, show more beautiful books.
This book, published in 1967, was a gift from my dad to me. I haven't got a lot of fond memories of my parents, and oddly most of them center around books in one shape or another. This is no exception. Dad read the book to me, even though by 1967 I was reading on my own, and we both loved the experience. He's a hambone and a half, my dad, funny and quick and full of wordplay. This book launched him on trajectories of mythmashing that, had I known then what I know now, I'd've written down or memorized or tape-recorded or something. He was abso-bloody-lutely riotous doing Odin as a doddering old fuffertut and Thor as a lisping faggot (my sides are already hurting remembering the way that made me laugh...still does...) and the Valkyries as whining misery-guts.
P.C. he was, and is, not.
The last time we spoke on the phone, before deafness and vascular dementia made it pointless to speak at all, I reminded Dad of this book. He laughed like he had when he was 40. He lit up as he did the voices again. It was a good last conversation to have with him, and it's all down to being a great big kid as he always was, and appreciating his kidliness left me feeling a lot less angry for his adult failings.
So this book holds my special and dear gratitude for being a bridge to a man I never loved, but always felt impatient with and annoyed by and hurt by. Books are magic, and myths are real, and don't ever, ever, ever forget that. show less
Rating: 4* of five
Ingri and Edgar Parin d'Aulaire were a married couple of Euro-origin, he Swiss and she Norwegian, who came to the US in the 1920s to pursue fame and fortune. Edgar was an illustrator for books, magazines, and the like, while Ingri painted rich guys' portraits. Came the Depression, oh dearie me...everything got harder...so the two collaborated on writing and illustrating kids' books together. For forty-plus years, the couple turned out beautiful, show more beautiful books.
This book, published in 1967, was a gift from my dad to me. I haven't got a lot of fond memories of my parents, and oddly most of them center around books in one shape or another. This is no exception. Dad read the book to me, even though by 1967 I was reading on my own, and we both loved the experience. He's a hambone and a half, my dad, funny and quick and full of wordplay. This book launched him on trajectories of mythmashing that, had I known then what I know now, I'd've written down or memorized or tape-recorded or something. He was abso-bloody-lutely riotous doing Odin as a doddering old fuffertut and Thor as a lisping faggot (my sides are already hurting remembering the way that made me laugh...still does...) and the Valkyries as whining misery-guts.
P.C. he was, and is, not.
The last time we spoke on the phone, before deafness and vascular dementia made it pointless to speak at all, I reminded Dad of this book. He laughed like he had when he was 40. He lit up as he did the voices again. It was a good last conversation to have with him, and it's all down to being a great big kid as he always was, and appreciating his kidliness left me feeling a lot less angry for his adult failings.
So this book holds my special and dear gratitude for being a bridge to a man I never loved, but always felt impatient with and annoyed by and hurt by. Books are magic, and myths are real, and don't ever, ever, ever forget that. show less
I loved this book when I was kid. I don't think I ever read it all the way through then. I love the myths and how they're represented and the illustrations - but it lead to a pretty awkward time in high school. At the time, I worked at a preschool, and I we had a new teacher start. She had an accent and a different look. One afternoon, when things were slow, I asked her where she was from. Greece, she told me. No, I said, you can't be from Greece - Greeks are blonde. No ... she told me, show more Greeks look just like me, we have dark hair. I explained that the book I had read, this book, depicted Greek people as light skinned and blonde. She laughed. Yes, that happens, she said. While people create illustrations in their own image. I felt pretty sheepish, but now I find it a funny story. show less
Winner of the prestigious Caldecott Medal in 1940, this examination of the life of Abraham Lincoln for younger children is one of a number of picture-book biographies from husband-and-wife team Ingri and Edgar Parin D'Aulaire, including George Washington, Leif the Lucky and Benjamin Franklin. Opening in a small log cabin in Kentucky, the book follows its subject through his childhood and youth in Indiana and then in Illinois; his career as storekeeper, state politician and lawyer, and then show more national politician; and his years as President of the United States during the Civil War. It concludes shortly after the end of the Civil War, with no mention of the subsequent assassination of Lincoln.
Although there were some things I enjoyed about the D'Aulaires' Abraham Lincoln - I liked the folksy style of the narrative, which reminded me of stories of Tall Tale heroes that I have read, and appreciated the glimpse given into the childhood life of this most important figure in American history - there were also many things I did not enjoy. To wit: the scenes involving African-American and Native American people were painful to read, with condescending (and often inaccurate) text, and offensive artwork. The description offered of the war with the "Indians" in Illinois, when Lincoln was a young man - although not named, it is clearly the Black Hawk War of 1832 - felt rather glib to me, accepting without question that the settlers were in the right ("Sold is sold," said the people of Illinois, and went to war to chase the Indians out), when in fact the disputed treaty (of 1804) that led to the conflict is believed by many scholars to have been understood differently by the two sides. Just as disturbing as the smug tone of any passage dealing with non-Euro-Americans, is the visual depiction of African-Americans in the artwork. With inky black skin, round white eyes and exaggerated lips, they look unnatural, and are reminiscent of images of black-face.
I don't think, all told, that I would give this title to a young child, nor would I have it in my house, if I had children of my own. It's an interesting document of its time, and the vision of Lincoln during that period, but it is also dated. Recommended primarily to Caldecott completists, and to fans of the D'Aulaires' artwork. show less
Although there were some things I enjoyed about the D'Aulaires' Abraham Lincoln - I liked the folksy style of the narrative, which reminded me of stories of Tall Tale heroes that I have read, and appreciated the glimpse given into the childhood life of this most important figure in American history - there were also many things I did not enjoy. To wit: the scenes involving African-American and Native American people were painful to read, with condescending (and often inaccurate) text, and offensive artwork. The description offered of the war with the "Indians" in Illinois, when Lincoln was a young man - although not named, it is clearly the Black Hawk War of 1832 - felt rather glib to me, accepting without question that the settlers were in the right ("Sold is sold," said the people of Illinois, and went to war to chase the Indians out), when in fact the disputed treaty (of 1804) that led to the conflict is believed by many scholars to have been understood differently by the two sides. Just as disturbing as the smug tone of any passage dealing with non-Euro-Americans, is the visual depiction of African-Americans in the artwork. With inky black skin, round white eyes and exaggerated lips, they look unnatural, and are reminiscent of images of black-face.
I don't think, all told, that I would give this title to a young child, nor would I have it in my house, if I had children of my own. It's an interesting document of its time, and the vision of Lincoln during that period, but it is also dated. Recommended primarily to Caldecott completists, and to fans of the D'Aulaires' artwork. show less
Lists
Books Read in 2022 (12)
Precious People (1)
Unread books (1)
Ambleside Y2 (1)
Awards
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Associated Authors
Statistics
- Works
- 37
- Also by
- 8
- Members
- 24,626
- Popularity
- #852
- Rating
- 4.3
- Reviews
- 241
- ISBNs
- 136
- Languages
- 7
- Favorited
- 11
