Starred review from October 11, 2010
Caldecott Medalist Say (Grandfather's Journey), his work always painstaking and poignant, ventures tentatively into the realm of fantasy. He paints a boy named Jiro, set free to wander in the vast Japanese garden of his father's wealthy friend Mr. Ozu. In the garden's teahouse, Jiro meets a beautiful woman who promises to weave something for him, just like the crane wife in the mournful Japanese fairy tale his mother has read him. In the story, a woodcutter's marriage is ruined by his curiosity and greed. The thread of Jiro's story, though, veers eerily back and forth between the real and surreal ("My, you have a wonderful imagination," the woman tells Jiro), and toys seductively with Jiro's puzzlement as he enters deeper into his own fantasy ("I'm the woodcutter," he thinks, setting off into a snowy dream morning. "I'll sell firewood and buy things to eat"). Just as sensitively, Say portrays Jiro's uncertainty in the face of his father and Mr. Ozu's hearty bluster. Pale colors and expanses of empty space contribute to the feeling of haunted charm. Did Jiro dream? Possibly—
or possibly not. Ages 5–7.
October 1, 2010
Say is at the height of his artistic achievement in this tale of a little boy named Jiro and the powerful impact that a story has on him. It opens with a retelling of "The Crane Wife," with a heading telling readers that this is "the story that Mama read to Jiro." He recalls the tale about "the crane that the woodcutter saved from the trap" when he sees a crane statue in a family friend's garden and then imagines a teahouse on the property's outskirts to be the woodcutter's cottage. A woman arrives, prompting Jiro to ask if she is the Crane Woman, but she just smiles, feeds him and cares for him, praising his imagination. A series of dreamlike paintings done in the Caldecott winner's customarily precise and beautifully lit watercolors blurs the lines between reality and fantasy and limns Jiro's conflicted emotions as he seems to enter the story that bonds him to his mother, only to awaken to his father's voice telling him it is time to return home. This is a beautiful, moving, quietly mysterious read, ripe with possibilities for interpretation and contemplation. (Picture book. 5-8)
(COPYRIGHT (2010) KIRKUS REVIEWS/NIELSEN BUSINESS MEDIA, INC. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.)
October 1, 2010
Gr 2-5-Say takes the ancient legend about a crane magically transformed into a woman through an act of kindness and adds another layer of mystery to the story. A brief retelling of "the Grateful Crane," as told to Jiro by his mother, sets the scene. The rest of the book traces the child and his father's visit to Mr. Ozu, who has a "famous garden and many treasures in his house." Intrigued by the life-size bronze crane, Jiro investigates first the statue and then a small seemingly empty cottage on the property. When a tall, lovely Japanese lady appears, he finds himself playing out the tale. Is she the crane personified? Is he the woodcutter from the story? With the arrival of his father to take him home, he is left to ponder: Was this just a dream? The care and subtlety the artist employs to make the contemporary twist believable, in both text and illustration, is extraordinary. A final magnificent image depicts a crane flying through the night sky beneath a full moon. Carefully chosen words mesh seamlessly with dramatic and effective paintings, bringing both energy and tranquility to carry the story to its thought-provoking ending.-Barbara Elleman, Eric Carle Museum of Picture Book Art, Amherst, MA
Copyright 2010 School Library Journal, LLC Used with permission.
September 1, 2010
Grades K-2 Says book begins with a brief retelling of the Japanese folktale The Grateful Crane, in which a woodcutter frees a crane and later marries a mysterious woman. The woman weaves fabric that enriches the couple until her husband sees her at work, at which time she reverts to being a bird. In Says quixotic story, a boy and his father visit a rich man, Mr. Ozu. Young Jiro wanders the grounds and finds a statue of a crane. Remembering the tale, he thinks its real. His father and Mr. Ozu laugh, and the boy is humiliated. Then a mysterious cottage beckons, a beautiful woman appears, and so begins the boys own reenactment of The Grateful Crane. Although the mood is evocative in the manner of fairy tales, theres a question here of audience. Jiro looks to be about six, yet the issues the book raisesabout the illusion of story and the nature of realitywould probably be best contemplated by an older child. Still, Says artwork, with its clean, quiet scenes, always pleases, and the more perceptive child will take much away from this.(Reprinted with permission of Booklist, copyright 2010, American Library Association.)
January 1, 2011
In this gently unsettling tale, young Jiro is lured into fantasy by a lifelike bronze statue of a crane. Entering a cottage, he's fed by a woman who resembles "The Grateful Crane" from the folktale his mother told him. Say's compositions seem saturated in silence even when characters speak. Rectilinear architecture sets off his rounded organic forms, while ample luminous spaces become dramatic settings.
(Copyright 2011 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)
Starred review from September 1, 2010
While his father visits with Mr. Ozu, young Jiro explores the man's elegant garden, lured there by a lifelike bronze statue of a crane. Entering a cottage, he dresses in the kimono he finds there and is fed by a woman who resembles "The Grateful Crane" from the folktale (reprinted here) that his mother has told him: a crane, rescued by a woodcutter, becomes a woman and marries him; she leaves when he peeks at her in bird form, weaving cloth from her feathers. Jiro tries to assume the woodcutter's role but, frustratingly, finds no wood. When the woman says she'll weave, he anxiously promises not to peek and, frightened by her inevitable disappearance, cries, "Stop!" -- only to wake to the two men chuckling over him napping in a teahouse. As always, Say is a master of compositions that seem saturated in silence even when characters speak. Rectilinear architecture sets off his rounded organic forms, while ample luminous spaces become dramatic settings for such significant patches of dark as Jiro's coat or the door into the room with the unseen loom. Positions and postures are eloquent: the sensitive little boy looks away from his kindly father or broods about the men's affectionate laughter; his gaze, and reach, toward the woman are intense, yet the two never touch. There is a subtle hint of dawning rapport between father and son: leaving Mr. Ozu's home, Father admits that "for a moment that crane looked real." A gently unsettling tale of the power of the imagination. joanna rudge long
(Copyright 2010 by The Horn Book, Incorporated, Boston. All rights reserved.)