by Sam Juliano
I would not be just a muffin’,
My head all full of stuffin’,
My heart all full of pain -E.Y. Harburg, Harold Arlen, The Wizard of Oz (1939)
The inveterate bird-scarer known as the Scarecrow has been a boon to farmers around the world dating back over 2,500 years to ancient Egypt, Rome and Greece. In feudal Japan they were front line protection for the rice fields, affording security for both newly-planted seeds and the maturing crop. Inevitably over the years the scarecrow has been the prime protagonist in horror films, where its frightful visage has induced writers to re-imagine this rural symbol as a purveyor of supernatural terror. Yes children today and those from past generations have a far more benign perception, one based exclusively on the beloved character played by Ray Bolger in the 1939 American film classic The Wizard of Oz. Based on the first in a children’s series by L. Frank Baum the scarecrow is a good-hearted and intelligent character who wishes he had a brain in a plot where his quick-thinking is vital to the success of the trip to the city where the titular character rules over. In Baum’s book, the famed film version and practically all personifications the scarecrow is initially perceived as one of the loneliest of guardians. Like Trent in the original Outer Limits’ most celebrated episode “Demon with a Glass Hand” where the robotic creation of mankind must stand watch over the earth’s population who are stored on a glass hand as electrical impulses, he is seemingly doomed to seclusion. In the poetic new picture book masterwork The Scarecrow by Beth Ferry this all-weather mannequin constructed with straw and work clothes is virtually programmed with one purpose, unencumbered by dual-tasking and unchallenged by anyone or anything looking to complicate his sole mode of existence.
Ferry’s illustrators are the Brothers Fan, Eric and Terry, who have produced some of children’s literature’s most magnificent picture books over the last several years including The Night Gardener, The Antlered Ship and Ocean Meets Sky. Their modus operandi for their collaboration with Ferry are pencil, ballpoint and photoshop and the result is not only exceedingly beautiful but atmospheric and seasonal, where the autumnal moorings of the story are not diminished by a place that is alien to to seasonal decadence. The initial view of this homespun caretaker is accented in golden hues in a field that would surely delight the king in the story featuring the miller’s daughter and the imp-like creature by the Brothers Grimm. Ferry declares that none of the wild animals -even the fox and deer- will dare to enter the the modesty fenced off domain of this impartial one-purposed protector who as the author notes knows nothing more, like the clay monster in the Caldecott Medal winning Golem by David Wisniewski whose purpose in the world was to protect the Israelites from outside attack. As painted by the Fans mammals and featured creatures alike gaze on from a distance, careful note to cross the human-made line of demarcation. Yellows and burnished browns transform the double page canvas into a dazzling display of beauty in decay.
When winter takes hold, Ferry reiterates the scarecrow’s indomitable countenance: He never rests. He never bends. He’s never had a single friend, for all the woodland creatures know not to mess with old Scarecrow. The author continues with some of her loveliest poetry in depicting seasonal incarceration and how this doomed though cognizant sentinel can look forward to the spring season, even if his role in life will remain constant: Winter whispers. Velvet snow. Scarecrow has no place to go. He dreams of what the spring will bring of buds and blooms and things that sing. The Fans’ turquoise tinged snow landscape with cotton covered bare branches and animals on the retreat is wholly resplendent. If Spring doesn’t grant him a vocational reprieve, it does treat him to what is tantamount to a life-altering event. A baby crow falls and attracts the scarecrow who by now is looking for the first available panacea for acute solitary confinement. He snaps his pole and leans down to pick up and save the temporarily disabled creature, an intimate act that the Fans depicted in stunningly minimalist close-ups in response to Ferry’s account of instantaneously chemistry: He tucks him near his heart of hay. He lets him sleep. He lets him stay. He doesn’t stop to wonder why. He sings the sweetest lullaby. Much like the nondescript weasel who leads a humdrum life as a mail carrier in a small Italian village in Sergio Ruzzier’s A Letter for Leo until he befriends a bird, the scarecrow and healing crow make the most unusual of companions, a Montague and Capulet of sorts who has Ferry opining: And they will laugh and wish on stars, forgetting who they really are. The Fans’ visually transform this concept into a ravishing starring night that would do Van Gogh proud. But like the aforementioned Ruzzier book and Marla Frazee’s The Farmer and the Clown there can be no permanence or at least with out a painful adieu.
In a Homereque canvas Ferry labels “Summer sunshine” the artists depict what scarecrow sees in a landscape lazily dressed in brown and yellow, but the tone is bittersweet as a now gown up crow must take up the role confined on him by Mother Nature. In what may well be the most dynamic canvas in the work (and by extension in any 2019 picture book) the burlap-faced scarecrow deciphers the chill of autumn is a leave-swept cascade of sorrow which the Fans drench in impressionist soulfulness. Ferry makes it clear that a resumption of his old duties after the unexpected intrusion of companionship is a far worse state of affairs than if fate had not stepped in earlier. Snowflakes make it colder still. No one visits. No one cares. Scarecrow sags alone and stares. Eric and Terry Fan accentuate the emotional devastation with a blizzard scene, depicting the grief stricken protagonist angled downward, hardly a recipient of nature’s idyllic graces. In the even blunter Broken heart. Broken pole. Nothing fills the empty hole. the scarecrow is shown in the starkest of terms, shown of any hope and resigned to the most minimalist of fates.
As a vivid ladybug climbs on a fence pole, another feathering creature drops from the air, this time an adult crow at the foreground of the field where scarecrow is visualized in silhouette. But without delay or ostentation the re-connection is full-bodied. Scarecrow’s arms are open wide. Crow spreads his wings and swoops inside. The reunion is celebrated by the sky with a rainbow and by white butterflies and other insects who adorn the most emotional tapestry in the book. When the crow returns the kindness afforded him early. A friend will mend a broken pole. And he will spruce up matted hay, and he will say, “I’m here to stay” picture book fans may think of Jerry Pinkney’s masterful Caldecott Medal winner The Lion and the Mouse, where one good dead is rewarded with another, but in the Ferry-Fans collaboration the return will lead to another bird and eggs. The flower-studded field is sublime and recalls some early tapestries in William Steig’s The Amazing Bone. The Scarecrow then aims his protectionist process on the newly-born baby crows, who as Ferry proclaims he will “love from the start” and “will grow up in his heart” much as the baby crow did before leaving and coming back. Ferry treats readers to a happy ending, one that envisions full harmony with wildlife creatures. Scarecrow has been officially transformed from a symbol of exclusion into one all accepts all species in the spirit of James Herriot.
The patchwork inside cover and brown-green end papers greatly enrich the book’s color scheme and the dust jacket cover represents eye-filling magnificence. The Fan brothers’ winning streak continues in The Scarecrow, which is surely lock, stock and barrel one of the most beautiful and moving picture books of the year. Beth Ferry couldn’t have hoped for art this gorgeous nor a better transcription of her poignant themes and lovely poetry. As to the Caldecott committee, The Scarecrow should be one of the finalists for their year-end accolades. Classroom teachers and their students remain smitten while art lovers have an all-time keeper and even perhaps the go to book on its subject. The Fans are long overdue for shiny stickers, and 2019 could be their year.
New Jersey author extraordinaire Beth Ferry
The Fabulous Fan Brothers Eric and Terry.
Note: This is the seventh entry in the 2019 Caldecott Medal Contender series. The annual venture does not purport to predict what the committee will choose, rather it attempts to gauge what the writer feels should be in the running. In most instances the books that are featured in the series have been touted as contenders in various online round-ups at children’s book sites, but for the ones that are not, the inclusions are a humble plea to the committee for consideration. It is anticipated the series will include in the neighborhood of around 15 to 20 titles; the order which they are being presented in is arbitrary, as every book in this series is a contender. Some of my top favorites of the lot will be done near the end. The awards will be announced in January, hence the reviews will continue until the early part of that month.