Book review: The Patua Pinocchio

The Patua Pinocchio

Text: Carlo Collodi (adapted from Carol della Chiesa’s translation from the Italian)

Illustrations: Swarna Chitrakar

Tara Books. 2014. Hardcover. Colour. Rs. 550. 190 pages.

ISBN: 978-93-83145-12-6

Pinocchio has gone viral since it was first published in Italian by Carlo Collodi in 1883. Adapted by Walt Disney Studios as a 1940 film, the wooden marionette who dreams of being a real boy is all set to reappear in a Disney live action fairy tale in the near future. In Italy, director Roberto Benigni (‘Life is beautiful’) did his own film version in 2002, while Pinocchio inspired a popular Korean tele-series.

The wooden boy made guest appearances on Sesame Street and the Muppet Show, and was a supporting character in the Shrek movies. He was even a knight on the chessboard in the Japanese manga anime series MAR between 2003- 2006.  Former British children’s laureate Michael Morpurgo did an irresistible, quick-paced variation on the tale in 2013, told by Pinocchio in the first person, with breathtaking illustrations by Emma Chichester Clark. And so, Pinocchio’s conquest of the global imagination continues.

I first heard of this long-nosed, cheeky bad boy as a bedtime tale from my Ma when I was about three. What did I make of it as I grew? That it was about a good father and his naughty son. That it is not always right to create stories or live in a fantasy world. It did not strike me as a highly moral tale then. Nor does it now.

This Tara book is edited and abridged from Collodi’s Italian text, translated into English by Carol Della Chiesa. It was born during a recent workshop for traditional Patua scroll painters from Bengal, hosted by Tara Books.  These enchanting balladeers, often seen at crafts bazaars and in scenic villages across Bengal, meld painting, story-telling and performance in their art form, evoking Indian epics, folklore, mythical heroes and creation stories.

Swarna Chitrakar, a Patua artist for over 20 years, was charmed by the Pinocchio story at the workshop. She chose to illustrate it in her traditional style, though not in age-old sprawling scroll panels but in smaller frames to suit the book format.

On these pages, the little wooden boy crosses cultures, continents and languages to resemble maybe a child Krishna, a cross between a folkloric hero and a universal child. His skin is dusky, his gaze wondrous and undaunted (almost Jamini Roy like). He is clad minimally, or dons only jewellery, true to the Patua trope. Visually, Swarna renders him as mischievous, playful yet almost beatific. Irresistible, beyond doubt.

As across Indian traditional folk paintings, Patua artists use clothing to denote social rank. The marionette theatre chief (or Fire Eater), for instance, is dressed in fancy raja-like gear, draped with necklaces. In contrast Pinocchio’s father, the carpenter Geppetto, wears a simple dhoti, while the pretty, pivotal Blue Fairy is sari-clad and bejewelled.

Patua art has, for centuries, celebrated animals and birds, whether mythical or real. Swarna’s chirping cricket, non-existent in Indian folk art, captures the eye in a trice.  Zigzagging across the frame, with scales and striped limbs, he sets the mood for other rollicking creatures from her fertile imagination. For instance? A goggle-eyed trickster cat with a goofy grin. A subtly-feathered red pigeon who flies Pinocchio to safer shores. Fish in earthy ochres, browns and greens, netted from the deep with Pinocchio.

Some of Swarna’s stunning images linger in the mind’s eye for hours. Such as the detailed black-and-white title drawings that launch each chapter. Or the incredible rath-like  coach drawn by dozens of monochrome outlined horses, almost whinnying with life. The Fire Eater in blazing red striding towards his stove, the Harlequin as his intended tinder grasped firmly in his hand, while Pinocchio pleads for mercy. Or the cunning giant ochre cat, almost purring with content, with a trembling blackbird in its jaws. Or Pinocchio swimming into the swirling waves from the Shark’s wide mouth with Geppetto on this back, surrounded by buoyant little fish, the predator rendered minimally as a gaping jaw with an enormous eye.

Spectacular art apart, the playful typography in this impeccably produced book ~ a hallmark of the best Tara books ~ makes this one distinctive. Designer Tanuja Ramani lays out the story with accents of 19^th century book design, including border motifs and smaller typeface when dialogue is in a gentler, softer voice. This element proves both playful and powerful.

V. Geetha of Tara Books writes in her concluding note: ‘This is the first time that Patua art has been used to illustrate a children’s classic from another tradition. While re-drawing and designing the tale, the book adds fresh ~ and startlingly unfamiliar ~ layers of meaning to a well-known story, and in the process, renders it truly universal.’

So true. This book is highly recommended for parents and teachers who seek to realign their children’s imagination. Or tweak ways of looking at popular tales.

Looking back at The Patua Pinoccio with wonder, I am faced with a nagging, unresolved question: Does Indian folklore have a Pinocchio- like story in any form? Would you know? 

(This review was originally published in the GoodBooks website in June 2015) 

Book review: DO! ~ a Warli visual wonderland to celebrate

DO!

Text/ concept: Gita Wolf

Illustrations: Ramesh Hengadi & Shantaram Dhadpe (with help from Rasika Hengadi and Kusum Dhadpe)  

Tara Books. Non-fiction/ Art. 2009. 2014 edition. Paperback. Full colour. Rs. 150. 32 pages. 

ISBN: 978-93-83145-16-4

Minimally worded picture books are often more powerful than ten thousand long-winded words. Such as? The wacky board books for children by 2013 Astrid Lindgren awardee, Argentinian artist Isol, like her two-way multi-fold classic, ‘It’s useful to have a duck/ It’s useful to have a boy,’ for sure. Or David Shannon’s 1998 brilliant ‘No, David.’

In India, most publishers hesitate to concentrate on visuals to engage young minds. Or to explore the riches of indigenous art forms to tell a story. Maybe because of the prohibitive cost of colour printing? Even Uma Krishnaswami’s brilliant ‘And Land was Born’ in the Bhilala style for Tulika had a strong folktale by Sandhya Rao as its base. Against this backdrop. Tara Books creatively pioneered the use of Gond, Warli, Mithila and other folk styles in hand-crafted, internationally acclaimed books such as ‘The London Jungle Book,’ ‘That’s How I See Things,’ ‘Hope is a girl selling fruit’ or ‘The Nightlife of Trees’ over the last two decades.  

On my shelves, dozens of Tara Books vie for attention because of the sheer joy they bring me as a reader and an art buff. Their quality-conscious team ensures that each one makes a lasting impression ~ for its text, visuals and impeccable production values. I wasn’t a jot surprised when Tara won the Bologna Prize for the Best Children’s Publisher of the year in Asia 2013, in addition to one of the International Book Industry Excellence Awards 2014 at the London Book Fair.

‘DO!’ just makes the case for Tara even stronger. Silkscreen printed on recycled kraft paper, it brings to life the rural walls on which the Warli art of western India originated. What is the book’s intent? Since the fluid Warli figures are pictogram-like, its blurb says, ‘Children relate immediately to this art style, and DO! can be used in many ways: as a picture book, to learn about verbs, to discover the stories on each page, to talk about village life, or to draw their own pictures and stories in the Warli style.’

The book works intelligently at each level ~ and in unforgettably image-driven ways. The child within me came vitally alive again once I discovered that I could open this book to any page and plunge headlong into a pictorial paradise, chuckling all the way.  

To begin with, I scanned the double spread with the verb ‘Play’: stick figures chase a football with concentration, their hair streaming behind them; three men play badminton by a large-leafed tree, their rackets as finely wrought as the net; girls skip rope with abandon as others bounce a ball with glee.

Next, I explored ‘Read’: a duo under a thatched roof concentrate on books, as do figures stirring a steaming pot of (maybe) rice; a man and a woman on their way to work carry a stick in one hand, a book in the other; a rural library has its cane and bamboo shelves stacked high; a villager shepherds his livestock, his fist clutching a book, signalling his dream of quieter hours.

As for ‘Draw’, it is a page-packed crash course on do-it-yourself Warli art: two parallel lines that morph into a Z, grow a torso, acquire limbs ~ then dance, run and bounce to life. Using the basic geometry of lines, circles and triangles, the renditions are wonderfully zany.  

The Warli pictograms made this book a wonderland of non-text, as I plunged into a super-active world of sleep, sit, fight and verbs-plus. Such as roosters at war over grain. Or cattle locking horns by the edge of a pond. Or a man resting under a tree, atop which birds roost. And of course, the irresistible delights of the Warli dancing circle that visually summons up the community as much as the circle of life, true to the traditional style where a single spread tells a complete tale.

This exceptional book allows the child (or adult) to imagine brilliant colours in the moving figures against the clay-brown backdrop. To realign an urban perspective in the light of tantalizing faraway, unknown rural lives. Even to acknowledge that wordless wonders can spark more brilliant texts in a writer as a reader.

‘DO!’ is a book worth reaching for to nurture your child’s visual vocabulary. It is as potently an essential tool to revitalize the sleeping inner child within each of us as adults, whether as parents, teachers, grandparents or creative guides. I could celebrate this visual wonderland every single day. 

(This review was originally published in the GoodBooks India site) 

Books for Children: 'We are all Born Free: the Universal Declaration of Human Rights in Pictures'

We Are All Born Free The Universal Declaration of Human Rights in Pictures Publishers: Tara Books (with Amnesty International) Price: Rs 240

The Universal Declaration of Human Rights lies forgotten today, shrouded in the mists of time, blurred by 9/11 and 26/11, by the Iraq war and communal disharmony, by famine and exploitation. It was published by the United Nations as far back as 1948, when World War II ended.

This interpretation in pictures and simplified text reminds us of the fine print of humankind, beyond History or Civics lessons. Of the forests and oceans that are mankind’s legacy. Of the right to breathe and be joyous that belongs to us as it does to those in PoW camps and in prisons, to those who are variously challenged or live in physically impoverished conditions. For we are all born free.

Addressed mainly to children (or to the child within each adult), Tara Books has published this magical edition in tandem with Amnesty International. It arrived in 2008, when hundreds of children died in Gaza, when Barack Obama was elected US President, when recession hit the global economy — and hard!

We live in a time when communication is almost instantaneous, via sms, email, podcasts, Youtube, blogs and other tech-enabled routes. Our information is increasingly visual, more potent than mere words can ever be.

We now accept that the global is local, as we struggle to find our increasingly invisible roots. This book, with 30 basic rights illustrated brilliantly by acclaimed artists from Australia, Brazil, Sweden, South Africa, Canada and South Korea and so on, socks us in the solar plexus. For we’ve drifted worlds away.

Flipping randomly, a child appears asleep under a comforter, with toys scattered all around, in a delicate watercolour by Argentina-born, Spain-based Gusti. The image represents Article 12: “Nobody should try to harm our good name. Nobody has the right to come into our home, open our letters, or bother us, or our family without a good reason.”

This child-friendly rendition by Amnesty International is framed by an introduction and educator’s notes by Gita Wolf and V. Geetha of Tara. They point out: “In the Indian context, where children routinely hear news of pavement dwellers being evicted or slums demolished, this Article assumes importance — it helps children understand that rich or poor, everyone has the right to the safety and protection of a proper home; and that whoever harms them, even if they are powerful people, are doing wrong.”

Visually vital, this book could bridge the generation gap. Through learning to read the pictures, perhaps with guidance, children could explore issues such as untouchability, child labour or gender rights. Or free expression or the role of governments.

By degrees, adult and child alike could step into a larger minefield of ideas, such as the right to be a citizen of a country or to seek refuge elsewhere.

Or to choose our own friends or hold religious/ political beliefs. For instance, a lyrical painting of babies in prams, elderly folks on a park bench, a young man in a wheelchair by Swedish artist Brita Granstrom reminds us: “We all have the right to a good life. Mothers and children and people who are old, unemployed or disabled have the right to be cared for.”

Another dramatic black, brown and red graphic scene with silhouetted figures by brilliant Brazilian Fernando Vilela drives home this: “If we are put on trial, this should be in public. The people who try us should not let anyone tell them what to do.”

A large green dragon by Briton Chris Riddell somehow sums it all up: “There must be proper order so we can all enjoy rights and freedoms in our own country and all over the world.”

Are we talking of a new global order? More, perhaps. Our world has been deconstructed, then reconstructed by wars and politics since 1948. These rights, once upheld as inviolable, have been violated repeatedly. That’s why a reminder of what we bequeath to our children today seems invaluable.

As the editors point out, “Articles are fundamental values which we need to defend for the common good. They may have to do with individuals, but we also need to defend them in the common interest. They are worth struggling and fighting for, because they grant us dignity, and tell us how we may relate to other people and learn to live with them.”

Documented 60 years ago, these rights spell out the difference between the world as it is, and the world as it should be. Perhaps we have forgotten that we can recognise ourselves in each other. These pages — whether quirky, comic, subtle or graphic in their images — remind us of promises being made to the next generation. As responsible adults, as parents, as teachers, our time starts now.

(Originally in The Hindu Business Line, February 2009)