From: lhendr at unm.edu <lhendr>
Date: Sat, 31 Jan 1998 14:24:22 -0700 (MST)

O.K. John, I accept the flung gauntlet, making clear, of course that the opinions expressed below are entirely my own, and do not represent those of the Caldecott Committee. I am not sure "venturesome creativity" or
"subversiveness" fit Rapunzel, although I find so much in it, that perhaps they do. I believe in this book so much, and see it as so much more than simply a beautiful book, that I feel compelled to speak.


Rapunzel: Where to start is the question. I find this book not only beautiful, but layered with meaning and emotion. Beginning with the endpapers that open and close the story, with their walls, windows, watching peacock, and the man with a donkey, the illustrations work with the words to suggest the timeless qualities of the story, and the themes of watchfulness and beauty, pride and humility; and the contrast between imprisonment or enclosure, and free and unconfined nature. The dust jacket and cover art, too, is done with infinite care. Notice the binding along the spine -- the faux wood grain that is actually hair, and the braids. The very image of Rapunzel in her tower, looking out onto a world into which she can never enter, suggests the essence of the story, and the birds (swallows) flying freely and the wild clouds and mountain peaks behind her provide a contrast to her confinement. The cat peeks from beneath her luxuriant hair -- the one aspect of her that seems to burst out of bounds, and which leads, depending on one's point of view, to her salvation or her downfall. The contrasting textures of hair and clothing, with the cool smoothness of the richly colored stone, beg to be touched -- yet they, like Rapunzel, are untouchable, and, for the most part hidden, and unseen.

In the opening illustration, with husband and wife, there is a look of love and wonderment on their faces, and a stillness that recalls traditional annunciation scenes. Beside them is the window -- of opportunity, perhaps, or of temptation, underscored by the presence of the apple on a plate decorated with a Greek key design. Possible subtexts here are not only fertility, but Eden, temptation, and the Fall, serving as a warning and tempering the joy we share with this couple. The window is an image throughout the story. Windows paradoxically allow one to view worlds that may not be reached -- in contrast to doors. They present temptations, but no means of access. There is no door into or out of the garden, although it can be seen from a window. Neither is there a door in Rapunzel's tower. Access to both is proscribed, and anyone who attempts to do so will suffer consequences.

In the second opening, the garden of the sorceress contains numerous symbols. There is a a statue of a mother with a child in her arms in the lower right hand corner. There is the fountain, with its life-giving water. I have not been able to determine what the statue in the niche represents -- it almost looks like the sorceress herself, but what is she holding? There is an almost serpentine look about her -- does she represent the snake in the garden? The peacock appears again -- a domesticated bird that must be kept, one that is proud and beautiful. In Greek legend, the peacock's tail contains the eyes of Argus, the thousand-eyed watchdog killed by Hera, the jealous wife of Zeus. The bird in the lower left is the spectacular bee?ter, found in Spain, Italy and along the Mediterranean. Some of the shrubs in this garden are unnaturally pruned and confined, and there are
"rare fruits and herbs," giving a hint of the sinister and unnatural. Nature carefully shaped and controlled foreshadows the unnatural lengths to which the sorceress will go to prune, shape, confine, control, and protect Rapunzel, and keep her, like her garden, all to herself.

Note also the armadillo or lizard-like creature on the garden path, and the oddly shaped shrub in which the bee?ter sits -reminiscent of an exotic Australian banksia or perhaps some rare South African shrub. And, note, too, the wife, looking with longing from her window into this forbidden garden. A detail I noticed when using the book with very young children is the way the tree reaches up to the window, enabling the husband to get down and back up again.

On the next opening, even though the illustrations are separate pictures, they are united by the roof line that extends across both pages. This same device will be seen on other pages in the book, such as the ones depicting Rapunzel as a child, in the haircutting scene, and the scene of the prince wandering.

The witch accosting the husband, with her flowing robes and upraised hands is truly frightening. It is on this page, too, that the campanula flower first adorns the text. The two-page spread following the garden scene, occupies the entire space, appropriately, as this is the first most intense and emotional scene in the story. The sorceress removes the baby, looking at her lovingly, cradling her in her arms, while the father, in the shadows at the far left lower corner sits as though in shock, and the poor mother lies semi-conscious in her bed. The empty cradle in the foreground shadows symbolizes the loss of the child, while the light angling across the floor highlights the sorceress and child and leads us into the direction the story will continue -- the relationship of sorceress and Rapunzel.

Interestingly, the only other wordless two-page spread is of the resolution of the story, when the prince and Rapunzel are reunited and embrace. In these two spreads we have the essence of the entire story: separation and reconciliation. Although Rapunzel is never returned to her own parents, the home-journeyhome motif is preserved and the story is psychologically satisfying because a new family is reunited at the end.

There is much, much more, throughout the book that rewards this kind of analysis. The layout is exemplary in communicating the emphasis of various aspects of the story. In addition to the two significant full two-page spreads, there is a nice use of the vertical on some of the pages. The birds are accurate and can each be identified. In addition to the bee?ter and the swallows, the bird to the left of the tower when the prince first hears Rapunzel's voice and falls in love, is the Hoopoe with "an erectile fan-like crest." The falcon-like bird so prominent in the hair-cutting scene is, most suitably, a cuckoo. All of these birds can be identified in _Peterson's Guide to the Birds of Britain and Europe_.

 Not only Zelinsky's illustrations, but his retelling is a lovely one, and the pictures reinforce not only outward emotions and events, but also the subliminal. The sorceress is not portrayed as a mean old witch or ogre, but an overly protective mother with whom mothers of teen-aged daughters can identify. The three ages of woman: virgin, mother, and crone, are all here, each portrayed sympathetically. There is also parent/child love, romantic love, and married love, as wel as the theme of maturation and separation from one's parents. Zelinsky's interpretations in words and pictures emphasize all of these themes. When the prince reaches out to grasp Rapunzel's hair, one can almost feel and smell this incredibly rich and sensuous hair. In the scene with the two holding hands in the tower, one can practically feel the sexual tension and newness between them. When the sorceress discover's her daughter's betrayal, the look of shock, anger, and hurt is convingly portrayed. One can almost hear Rapunzel crying out as the stepmother cuts her hair.

In the tradition of Renaissance art, Zelinsky's backgrounds and details also reinforce the emotions of the events. Compared to the calm pink and blue sky and the impassive, immobile Rapunzel when the sorceress climbs the tower, clouds move toward the tower in the haircutting scene, and the sky darkens still more when the prince falls. When he wanders the clouds darken even more and the landscape becomes drab and wintery. At the reconciliation, even the rocks slope toward the embracing couple. The flower however, is not the campanula, but some other blue flower -- I'm not sure what!, but it probably has significance. Rapunzel has removed her campanula necklace when the sorceress discovers her secret (perhaps representing the break between stepmother and child).

As Rapunzel and the prince head homeward to the shining city on the hill (Biblical parallels seem inescapable), the path is lined with thistles -- the same blue-lavender color we've asociated with Rapunzel all along -- but perhaps representing the thorns of experience and the hardiness the couple has attained. Violets grow in the last scene (what do violets represent?), and one of the children, not Rapunzel, holds a campanula. Rapunzel now wears something else around her neck her dress is now a darker, more mature blue. A butterly hovers in the background -- symbol of course of resurrection and new life -- and the cat sits at their feet.

Finding the cat in each and every picture is an activity in itself. Why does the cat stay with the Prince, not with Rapunzel, when they are separated, and what does the cat represent?
  Some of the illustrations in the book are modelled on well-known paintings, knowledge of which also contributes a certain context and depth to the illustrations. The final scene of the family is based on the familiar "Madonna and Child with the Young St. John" by Raphael and the opening scene of husband and wife is based on Rembrandt's "The Jewish Bride." Other pictures that have been models include "Agatha Bas" by Rembrandt and "The Expulsion from Paradise" by Masaccio.

Whether this book is creatively daring and different, I am not sure, but it is certainly part of a long tradition of storytelling through art that goes back to the Renaissance and probably beyond. In none of Zelinsky's previous work have I found quite this depth of emotion, and such layering of symbolism and allusion. Interestingly, Zelinsky's other fairy tales,
_Hansel and Gretel_ and _Rumpelstiltskin_ also involved separation of parents and children. The emotion depicted through the characters' expressions, body language, and backgrounds reminds me of Trina Schart Hyman's work, while the use of symbolism and the more formal, almost architectural qualities of the work, remind me of Nancy Ekholm Burkert's _Snow White_ which I have always thought was perhaps the most perfect illustrated folktale ever.

In weeks of reading and enjoying this book, I feel I have still not exhausted its possibilities -- surely the mark of great art and literature? Every time I look I see something I had not noticed before and find something new to wonder about. Can anyone tell more about the mirror on the table in the tower? On the left side of the tower in the picture with the prince on his horse, are those symbols in the centers of the circles? Characters in an unknown language? Do they say something? I just noticed the face of a cat or wolf in the column on the right!


Linnea Hendrickson lhendr at unmm.edu
Received on Sat 31 Jan 1998 03:24:22 PM CST