Walter de la Mare (1873–1956)

"Up on their brooms the witches stream, / Crooked and black in the crescent's gleam; / One foot high, and one foot low, / Bearded, cloaked and cowled they go..." And so begins Walter de la Mare's wonderful poem, The Ride-by-Nights, which supplies the text for this lovely Halloween picture-book, illustrated by Moldovan artist Carolina Rabei. As the witches fly through the night sky, under and over all of the constellations, a group of children is depicted trick-or-treating in the accompanying show more artwork. The two groups are mostly separate - the witches above, the children below - although the witches sometimes do appear on earth, as when one mischievously steals some candy for herself and compatriots. At the end of the night both witches and children return to their homes...

Originally included in Walter de la Mare's 1913 poetry collection, Peacock Pie, this poem is a witchy delight! Simple but descriptive, it captures the wonder, the mystery, the enchantment of the night sky, and the extraordinary celestial flight of the eponymous witchy "ride-by-nights." Carolina Rabei's choice to pair this text with artwork depicting both the witches' flight and children trick-or-treating through a rural and small town setting, is inspired, opening up parallel narratives - one in which the witches explore the cosmos, and one in which the children explore their own world. The artwork itself is lovely, utilizing a deep color palette dominated by purples, blacks and reddish-oranges, and it beautifully depicts many of the constellations mentioned in the text. Speaking of which, I was tickled by the mention here of "Charlie's Wain," an old-fashioned term for the "plow" or "cart" said to be contained in the Ursa Major constellation.

All in all, a wonderful Halloween picture-book, one which presents a classic poem, and uses it to tell a fuller story, one about witches, constellations, and children trick-or-treating. show less

"No breath of wind, / No gleam of sun – / Still the white snow / Whirls softly down / Twig and bough / And blade and thorn / All in an icy / Quiet, forlorn." So begins Walter de la Mare's evocative wintry poem, which captures the enchanted beauty of snowy vistas—the light and shadow, crystal flakes and powdery piles—and which forms the text of this lovely picture book. The accompanying illustrations from Moldovan artist Carolina Rabei depict a small snow-bound town, and one family's show more preparation for and celebration of Christmas—Santa Claus appears, in four magical pages—expanding the "story" in the poem to include seasonal observances...

The poem Snow was originally included in Walter de la Mare's 1913 poetry collection, Peacock Pie, and is one of four such selections—the other three being Silver, Summer Evening and The Ride-by-Nights—recently made into picture books featuring Rabei's artwork. The four titles together make up Faber & Faber's Four Seasons of Walter de la Mare series. Snow is the second of these books I have read, after The Ride-by-Nights, and was apparently nominated for the Kate Greenaway Medal (now ignominiously renamed the Carnegie Medal for Illustration). I can certainly see why it received that distinction, as the artwork is quite beautiful. I have a weakness for wintry scenes, and Rabei more than delivers! That being said, although I loved both artwork and poetry here, I wasn't sure what to make of the inclusion of the Christmas element in the former, as I think the poem is more about the beauty of winter itself, and the mystery and majesty of snow, rather than about the holiday. I don't think this was the "wrong" choice, as I did love the Christmasy scenes, and for many people winter is tied to the holiday, but I did find myself wondering what else could have been depicted, if the choice has been made to create a "simple" winter book. Leaving this quibble aside, this is nevertheless one that I would recommend to picture book readers and listeners, who enjoy poetic picture books and/or stories about winter wonders. show less

A book of poems for children? Perhaps, if written by Uncle Edgar Allen Poe to niece and nephew Wednesday and Pugsley Addams 💀

While not overtly horrific, the overall atmosphere is of melancholy, loss, death, night and febrile passion.

The opening poem, The Horseman, initially reads as a bit of nonsense nursery rhyme, but then, surely, the pale rider on his ivory horse coming over the moonlit hill can be none other than Death stalking the fitfully sleeping child.

There is an excellent show more illustration by Emett of the gangling Thief at Robin's Castle, who steals not only Robin's silverware, but his children, whose hands imploringly poke out of his swag bag. Raised as his own, the children "never really loved him" despite his stolen riches.

I initially thought this would be a slight set of childish rhymes, but they're ageless, dark, macabre and fey, the cumulative effect being greater than the individual poems. I loved them 🖤

Sibelius's "Valse Triste" (Sad Waltz) from his score to the drama "Kuolema" (Death) catches something of the mood:
https://youtu.be/5Ls8-pk4IS4?si=isJZxdiecsifeir_ show less

"Melancholic Arthur Lawford meanders through a graveyard, recovering from a bout of the flu, until he falls asleep against the tomb of Nicholas Sabathier. Feeling invigorated, he hurries home only to find out his face is that of Sabathier! Lawford then spirals and begins to question who he is and who he might become."

As the victim, Lawford's inner monologue has some of the most insightful and heart-rending lines in the book: "And depression, always lying in ambush of the novelty of his show more freedom, began like mist to rise above his restless thoughts." His sensitive wife is not emotionally equipped to handle this sudden change. Their friend Mr. Bethany, is sympathetic to Lawford's plight but offers little advice beyond powering through it. Thankfully he meets the bookish Herbert and his sister Grisel. Herbert tackles it clinically, which is a step in the right direction but not what Lawford needs. His cure, his exorcism, comes from Grisel. Above all else she listens: "Don't we all change as we grow to know one another?" She offers him true empathy. He begs, "Think of me as that poor wandering ghost of yours; how easily I could hide away in your memory!" Nevertheless, she smartly refuses to be a crutch, and he recovers.

With such a simple plot and no action, this one should have been a short story. De La Mare really drags out the initial confrontation within his household, especially with his wife Sheila and their daughter Ana. It leads the reader to believe that she will have a bigger role as the story progresses, but halfway through Sheila takes their daughter and leaves him to "fight it out, alone!" I was ready to write her off as completely insufferable, but the longer I stayed in Lawford's head, I came to realize that each character was a demonstration of how people react to depression. It's not thrilling or supernatural by any stretch of the imagination. Sabathier could've been any name, from any era, and died in any violent fashion. Still, it's beautifully written, and it kept me engaged, but the ghostly elements are disappointingly weak in comparison to the overall drama. show less