The lives of two isolated children, a wealthy young boy from Paris and the poor daughter of Mexican migrant workers, intersect at a baseball game in California with lasting results
Yan Nascimbene, an award-winning illustrator of many books for children, has illustrated more than three hundred book covers for publishers all over the world. His editorial illustrations have appeared in Time, The Wall Street Journal, The New Yorker, and many other publications. Yan Nascimbene lived in the south of France and in California. He died on February 1, 2013 in San Miguel de Allende (Mexico).
Yan Nascimbene est né à Neuilly-sur-Seine le 3 avril 1949, d'un père italien et d'une mère française. Son enfance et son adolescence sont partagées entre l'Italie et la France. Il étudie à la School of Visual Arts de New York puis à l'université de Californie, à Davis, où il a vécu par la suite. Passant de la photographie de mode à la peinture puis au cinéma, avec la réalisation en 1981, d'un long-métrage de fiction, « The Mediterranean », il s'oriente ensuite vers l'illustration. Pour Gallimard Jeunesse, il a réalisé toutes les couvertures de la collection Page Blanche et de la collection Page Noire. Il a également illustré « Du côté de chez Swann » (Gallimard/Futuropolis), a dessiné la couverture de « Sans Atout, Le cadavre fait le mort ». Il est aussi l'auteur de magnifiques albums. http://www.gallimard.fr/Contributeurs...
The art is exquisite. It’s so lovely. The story of two lonely, only children, who have rich imaginations is one that would have and does resonate greatly for me. They have so much in common, though the boy is wealthy and lives in Paris, with servants, and the girl lives in poverty in the Mojave Desert, the Napa Valley, and wherever her farm worker parents can get work. For different reasons they have limited contact with their parents. The book is on my san-francisco shelf because of one scene in San Francisco at a Giants baseball game. Most of the poetic story is magical as are the illustrations.
This is a text heavy picture book and the vocabulary is too advanced for young children. Had I received this book for my 9th or 10th birthdays I’d have really treasured it and frequently reread it.
The book is lovely and brilliant, and special and unusual. I’m so grateful to my Goodreads friend Melody’s review for alerting me to it. I had to borrow it from my library’s LINK+ sister libraries system; I’m not sure I’d have ever found it if not for Melody/Goodreads. It’s definitely worth reading.
I’d say it’s for girls and boys, ages 8 or 9 through adulthood.
Picked this up at a rummage sale today on the strength of the cover illustration. I'm so glad I did. The story is spare, not quite tipping over into melancholy, but certainly dreamy and sad and lonely. The illustrations are flat gorgeous, they have a turn-of-the last century feel to them. The dual protagonists are both only children with rich interior lives. The ending made my eyes leak a little.
Post 9/11, one might think this could refer to that day--but this book was published several years prior to those awful events. It's one of those rare children's books that I picked up as an adult, loved it and kept it. So grateful to have worked in a bookstore lo those many years ago, so that gems like this didn't miss my radar.
It's a poignant story, told as much via words as the oh-so-cleverly understated illustrations. Reading this story, I was reminded of a haiku by Basho:
Even in Kyoto Hearing the cuckoo's cry, I long for Kyoto.
It has that sort of sweet melancholy about it--a sense of longing, of nostalgia, of loneliness & preciousness. Yet it's not a sad story, just wistful. The illustrations are outstanding, go hand-in-hand with the narrative. Highly recommended.