Then, among distinguished illustrators, is mention of a schoolmate of mine who was, even in the seventh grade, noted for his drawing talent. Hilary Knight, the artist best-known for creating the classic character Eloise with Kay Thompson,  lived in the same building as my then best friend. I remember playing some game that must have been related to hide and seek with Nancy and Hilary, and hiding under Hilary’s bed.
 
As a child, I had an oversized book all about Brownies, but they didn’t grab me. The drawings showed unappealing, slightly grotesque little beings that looked malevolent to me.  I'm sure every who ever read about Christopher Robin and his friends will always see Pooh, Piglet, Eeyore, Rat, et al as depicted by E. H. Shepard. I recall with affection the Flower Fairies (of different seasons) books that Grandmother gave me. That was where I learned what a rowan tree is. It is so often mentioned in British translations of fairy tales.
 
The hurricane of 1938 put our ground floor apartment under about 6” of water, and I remember my distress lest a fantastic oversize biography of Joan of Arc published by Brentano might be damaged. It lay on the bottom shelf because of its size. Every second glossy page (folio size) was graced by a full-color oil painting of an event in the saint’s life. The final one showed curtains of flames in which her saints were ethereally visible, while she stood, eyes rolled upward, clutching a crucifix, bound to the stake. That image is permanently imprinted on my brain. I wish I hadn’t given that book away.
 
There was a series of children’s books (some in print today) whose illustrations and stories vied for pride of place by a Hungarian called Kate Seredy. The first two I saw were set in pre-WWI Hungary on the plains where the Magyars lived. A pair of cousins were depicted always in the handsome national dress including accordion-pleated pants and embroidered vests, having adventures on their uncle’s horse-breeding farm. The drawings were rendered in delicate half-tones in pencil. The horses were lovingly drawn. I believe Seredy is still in print. I saw those in the thirties. Jan Brett’s books echo Kate Seredy’s lavish and feminine detail.

Al the horse lovers of my generation read Will James's cowboy adventure stories, especially Smokey, full of action-filled pencil drawings.
 
All this thinking back to early reading reminds me that some of my first explorations of adult fiction included illustrations. I refer not only to traditional editions of Dickens and Mark Twain or George Eliot. I recall charming line drawings in a number of novels my mother read. One was called Philip and the Faun. I don't remember the story, but I do recall the faun. Often to this day, I wish artists were called on to do what illustrators did in those long-gone days:  make a picture for a reader who might not ever have seen anything like what she was reading about. Historical fiction especially could benefit from more than a dust jacket depiction. Oh, I understand how foolish a thought that is from the economic point of view. Books are almost too expensive now.
 
I just know that, thanks to Henry Ford, Guinevere to me is a blonde.

©2013 Joan L. Cannon for SeniorWomen.com

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