Written in 1957, "The Easter Bunny That Overslept" is not a Caldecott awardee, but Adrienne Adams' other Caldecott Honor book, "The Day We Saw the Sun Come Up," is not in my San Antonio public library's collection. So I have opted to review another book by her. I was moved to do this in part because it is a seasonally appropriate story and because it has been re-illustrated twice, so that will give us an opportunity to see different interpretations on the same literary content.
The Writing
This tale, which seems to be the only well-known work by the Friedrich couple, is one that would rather not be over-analyzed. If taken too seriously, it ends up making Americans seem rather unforgiving to this charitable bunny after he accidentally hibernated past his appointed holiday. But it's almost plausible enough to make me a little uncomfortable, that near-holy quality of holidays that make us all seem quite parochial. There's the time for chocolate eggs, the time for patriotic parades, the time for trick-or-treating (or, as these Halloween-goers exclaim, "A trick or a treat!"), and never the twain shall meet. Those concerns aside, this is a genuinely funny story, one that had me appreciating and sympathizing for the well-meaning Easter Bunny.
As the New York Times praised, "An ingratiating fable, expertly told with a nice sense of detail."
The Illustrations
This book came a couple years before "Houses from the Sea" but features a fuller palette as well as fortifying touches of pen & ink. Below are my two favorite spreads.
This tale, which seems to be the only well-known work by the Friedrich couple, is one that would rather not be over-analyzed. If taken too seriously, it ends up making Americans seem rather unforgiving to this charitable bunny after he accidentally hibernated past his appointed holiday. But it's almost plausible enough to make me a little uncomfortable, that near-holy quality of holidays that make us all seem quite parochial. There's the time for chocolate eggs, the time for patriotic parades, the time for trick-or-treating (or, as these Halloween-goers exclaim, "A trick or a treat!"), and never the twain shall meet. Those concerns aside, this is a genuinely funny story, one that had me appreciating and sympathizing for the well-meaning Easter Bunny.
As the New York Times praised, "An ingratiating fable, expertly told with a nice sense of detail."
The Illustrations
This book came a couple years before "Houses from the Sea" but features a fuller palette as well as fortifying touches of pen & ink. Below are my two favorite spreads.
This confrontation ends up looking much more menacing than perhaps Adams intended. "Knock, knock, little bunny, we know you're in there."
This is the turning point when the story turns from whimsical to mystical.
The Synergy
It all comes together terrifically. The one thing that I found a bit surprising, if not jarring, was that through all of the failed attempts to satisfy these headstrong Americans, the bunny is always smiling, with the exception of the above page and the page that follows it, wherein the bunny lands at Santa's doorstep, likely feeling a bit disoriented. No doubt it was an intentional characterization, one that has me -- in my own value-laden, perhaps American, way -- all the more sympathetic to E. Bunny and his plight.
The Soapbox
The above edition was published in 1957. In 1983, Adams reillustrated it for a new edition. Here is that edition's cover, found from a Google image search.
The Synergy
It all comes together terrifically. The one thing that I found a bit surprising, if not jarring, was that through all of the failed attempts to satisfy these headstrong Americans, the bunny is always smiling, with the exception of the above page and the page that follows it, wherein the bunny lands at Santa's doorstep, likely feeling a bit disoriented. No doubt it was an intentional characterization, one that has me -- in my own value-laden, perhaps American, way -- all the more sympathetic to E. Bunny and his plight.
The Soapbox
The above edition was published in 1957. In 1983, Adams reillustrated it for a new edition. Here is that edition's cover, found from a Google image search.
Though the protagonist is still donning that dapper outfit, his environs have grown far more controlled and precise. I'd love to open up a copy of this edition and see how she depicts certain scenes in this new style.
In 2002, seven years after Otto died (survived by Priscilla, though I'm not sure if she's still around now), the story received a new edition, this time illustrated by Donald Saaf. Here is one of his spreads from early in the story.
In 2002, seven years after Otto died (survived by Priscilla, though I'm not sure if she's still around now), the story received a new edition, this time illustrated by Donald Saaf. Here is one of his spreads from early in the story.
Perhaps it's partly the juxtaposition to Adams' styles, but Saaf's palette is a bit cartoonish and oversaturated for my taste. (Also, that Easter Bunny looks like an animate doll that's up and on his way to terrify children.) I'm not really criticizing Saaf's handiwork, which is done in collage and gouache. However, I often get a tad uneasy when picture book art looks intentionally like folk art, particularly when the illustrator was trained at an art school (in his case the School of the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston). I also grow indignant when I see that an illustrator is capable of much more nuanced work. Here is a recent "fine art" painting of Saaf's from his website.
Subtle yet stunning work using acrylic, fabric, and oil. But picture books are not "fine art," so we needn't spend much time on them, right?
Little frustrates me more than the idea that with the onslaught of TV cartoons in the 1980s and 1990s, children ceased being capable of appreciating subtle imagery.
Nonetheless, we can be happy that this old book gained a new life for the 2000s, though apparently some of the text was abbreviated. I mustn't forget that picture books are first and foremost an invitation to literacy. But they can also be an opportunity for children to learn to appreciate art. It sometimes seems like illustrators and publishers are asking themselves, "What can I get by with?" rather than "What will blow them away?"
Little frustrates me more than the idea that with the onslaught of TV cartoons in the 1980s and 1990s, children ceased being capable of appreciating subtle imagery.
Nonetheless, we can be happy that this old book gained a new life for the 2000s, though apparently some of the text was abbreviated. I mustn't forget that picture books are first and foremost an invitation to literacy. But they can also be an opportunity for children to learn to appreciate art. It sometimes seems like illustrators and publishers are asking themselves, "What can I get by with?" rather than "What will blow them away?"
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