Waiting for Gregory
by Kimberly Willis Holt; illustrated by Gabi Swiatkowska
Oh, thank goodness I took two semesters of art history in college. And let me also congratulate myself for every major art museum on two continents that I've ever visited, lectures I've attended, coffee-table books I've pored over, gift shops I've drooled in.
Without that background (of sorts), I'd merely be impressed by Gabi Swiatkowska's illustrations, instead of overwhelmed.
She took a mildly amusing story of a girl awaiting her cousin's birth and the old wive's tales about where babies come from and turned it into something magical, surreal and both Old World and other-worldly.
Little Iris wants to know when cousin Gregory will arrive, but gets a different answer from every relative: when the stork brings him or when the cabbage grows big enough or when he's ready to descend a ladder to heaven. Holt's Iris reacts with just the right blend of wonder and skepticism, but it's the illustrations that let us peep into the dazzling workings of Iris' imagination.
On the title page, we're given a formal, 18th-century rendering -- in acrylic -- of Iris with be-ribboned hair and a rosebud-lipped pout. But on the very next page, the girl invites us into what looks to be a hastily penciled "Experimental engineering Theatre Company" with a shadowy interior.
From then on, we're Swiatkoska's captives in page after page of odd inventions and whirring gizmos that throw off the conventions of time. Some of the characters looks straight out of old Federalist portraits, others could be late 19th century or early 20th, judging by their costumes and hairstyles.
As Iris approaches one person after another, considering and then rejecting their explanations, wheels turn, minute-hands tick, a fat stork squeaks along on pulleys, time is measured by arcs of "not too long" and "not too soon", an angel peers ethereally from swirls of pale acrylic paint.
The publisher gave Swiatkowska room to roam, with full bleeds on every page, and she made the most of it, thickly layering paint and enamel, or inking in a tiny figure that might be an afterthought or may be the point of the whole page, tucked into a far corner instead of center stage.
The artist used acrylic, enamel, watercolor and gouache (a kind of opaque watercolor) in defying as many conventions as you possibly can without getting your own exhibit at the Met.
At last, the big moment arrives, announced by Iris' uncle via a machine that is part antique telephone, trumpet, printing press and, of course, clock.
I can only imagine what happens when an author picks up the galleys to her book and sees all this. Holt must've thought "Sheesh, did I win the illustrator jackpot, or what?"
Rating: *\*\*\*\
Wow, this one looks great, Anne! Thanks for the review. I'm going to look for it.
Posted by: Kelly | May 22, 2006 at 11:34 AM
It's beautiful. And weird. And weirdly beautiful.
Posted by: Anne | May 23, 2006 at 07:38 AM