Sheila MacGill-Callahan (1926–2000)

The four children of King Lir—twin boys and twin girls—are transformed into swans by their evil stepmother Aoife in this picture book retelling of the famous Irish myth from author Sheila MacGill-Callahan and illustrator Gennady Spirin. Taking to the skies, their mournful songs bring melancholy to all who hear them. Returning to human form every year on the same day, when their feet must not touch the ground or they will die, the children are aided by Jasconius the whale, and all the show more creatures of the earth and sea and sky. After seven years they are recaptured by Aoife, wrathful that King Lir, driven mad by sorrow, still prefers his swan-children's company to her own. In danger of being slaughtered, the children are again aided by Jasconius, and by the swans of the wild, who unite the two mountains, the Man of the North and the Woman of the South, and bring an end to the curse...

Sheila MacGill-Callahan departs significantly from the traditional myth in her retelling of The Children of Lir, inserting the character of Jasconius the whale, who actually belongs to the story of St. Brendan, and offering a happy ending after only seven years, rather than a bittersweet release after nine hundred. While this latter change might be said to drastically alter the meaning and overall tone of the story—in the same vein, one might argue, as Disney's reworking of The Little Mermaid—and therefore anger some, I confess to finding it quite interesting. It's not that I require a happy ending—indeed, I tend to prefer original versions, however tragic—but because it removes the heavily Christian element present at the end of the "original," in which the children are returned to human form as elderly men and women, converted to Christianity, and then pass away, it presents a fascinating inversion of the very process whereby the tale was first recorded. So many of the pre-Christian pagan stories of Ireland come down to us through the lens of the early Christian monks of that country, who were the first to record them. It is fairly clear that the insertion of Christian elements in these pagan myths, no doubt orally transmitted until that point, was a deliberate choice, and that these "original" tales actually represent a newer and transmogrified version of something more ancient. Thus, in a way, MacGill-Callahan's storytelling choices here are no more than an inversion of changes wrought by the original monks who recorded the tale.

Leaving that question aside, I did find this very enjoyable, as a myth in its own right, and I thought that the accompanying artwork of expatriate Russian illustrator Gennady Spirin was simply beautiful. I loved all of the visuals here, but I think the wordless two-page spreads were particularly lovely. With the caveat that readers be aware of the changes made to the traditional story, I would highly recommend this one to young folklore and mythology enthusiasts, and to anyone looking for beautiful picture book illustrations. show less

Carved many hundred of years ago by a Lenape man, and visited down through the generations by Lenape children, a stone turtle watches the land and world around him transformed over time in this picture book from author Sheila MacGill-Callahan and illustrator Barry Moser. He sees newcomers arrive, the land cleared, and the people around him change. Eventually vandalized by some punks, the turtle draws into itself, blind and deaf, and betrayed by the world. Here he sits in darkness, until show more found by a researcher who understands who and what he is, and who has him cleaned up and moved to the New York Botanical Society, where he is once again surrounded by children playing...

Published in 1991, And Still the Turtle Watched was author Sheila MacGill-Callahan's debut, and the first of the six picture books she would eventually go on to see published. It pairs a somewhat melancholy, bittersweet narrative about the passage of time and the many changes it brings, with lovely watercolor artwork from illustrator Barry Moser. The theme here—the changes wrought by the march of history, as seen in one specific locale—reminded me strongly of subsequent picture books like Lynne Cherry's A River Ran Wild: An Environmental History (1992) and Debby Atwell's River (1999), which I happened to read before this one. While the focus in those books is on a river, and the world around it, here we have a turtle observer, one endowed with emotional awareness in the story. Of the three books, I think the one by Atwell is best, but I still found this one moving, and couldn't help sympathizing with the anthropomorphized turtle. I think all three of these books would work as an exploration of the theme of change, not just in the past, but potentially in the future as well. Rivers become polluted, and stone carvings are vandalized, but we can always do better, and try to set things right. Just as things worsen, so can they improve. show less

Using the magical ring King Solomon was said to have in Jewish folklore as her starting place—a ring which gave him the power to speak with animals—author Sheila MacGill-Callahan spins an original fairy-tale about the importance of humility and compassion, when dealing with our animal friends. Happening upon a wounded lioness as a youth, Solomon nurses her back to health, observing the other creatures as he does. The wisdom he gains that day and night is lost as he grows older and show more becomes king however, crowded out by power and pride. Then one day, on a hunt with some of his men, he is reunited with the lioness and her son, and remembers the lesson he had forgotten...

When Solomon Was King is the fourth picture book I have read from MacGill-Callahan, who seems to take various folkloric stories and themes as a jumping off point—The Children of Lir, The Seal Prince—and then add her own variation, or spin an original tale as she does here. Whatever one makes of that from a folkloric perspective, her stories are always well told, and very enjoyable. I thought this one was particularly interesting, given that King Solomon is noted for his wisdom in the Bible, and seems a veritable paragon, whereas here he is flawed and must learn his lesson twice. As someone who doesn't believe in human perfection, I think I find the latter more believable. In is certainly very instructive, in terms of teaching a message. This book was published in 1995, the same year that illustrator Stephen T. Johnson released his own Alphabet City, awarded a Caldecott Honor in 1996. Johnson's artwork here, done in watercolor and pastel, is just lovely, capturing the beauty of the natural world and the changes in Solomon's face as he ages. Recommended to young readers who enjoy folk and fairy-tale style stories, and to anyone looking for picture book biblical fiction. show less

Determined to drive all of the snakes out of Ireland, Patrick rings a special snake call on his magic bell, and every serpentine resident of the Emerald Isle heads out to sea. Every one, that is, save Ireland's oldest and largest snake, who is determined not to leave his home. Thus commences a struggle between the two, as Patrick attempts to trick and entrap the snake. Eventually, they chase across Ireland, over the Giant's Causeway into Scotland, and towards Loch Ness...

As she makes plain show more in her afterword, author Sheila MacGill-Callahan combines traditional folklore concerning Saint Patrick and his role in ridding Ireland of all serpentine life with more recent stories of the Loch Ness Monster in The Last Snake in Ireland: A Story about St. Patrick. It's cleverly done, with the snake having as much to say about matters as Patrick. A part of me felt rather bad for the snake in this story - after all, despite being demonized by humanity, snakes are no more destructive than many other kinds of animal - so I was interested to see that the author emphasizes that this was all done in the time before Patrick became Saint Patrick. Is she implying that his actions were somewhat less than holy - perhaps because they were lacking in compassion? Whatever the case may be, the story here was engaging, and the accompanying artwork from Will Hillenbrand, painted on both sides of vellum in oil pastel, egg tempera, watercolor, water-soluble crayon and colored pencil, is quite appealing. I really liked the color palette used - the deep red snake, the green and purple-clad Patrick - and found many of the scenes quite expressive. All in all, this would make for a fun St. Patrick's Day read, and it is in that capacity that I would recommend it. show less