In Astrid Lindgren's original fairytale Die Puppe Mirabell (which is called Mirabell in its original Swedish and Mirbelle in English translation) six year old Britta-Kajsa's greatest wish is for a doll, but since dolls are expensive and her parents do not have a lot of money (as growing and selling flowers and vegetables at a local market does not bring home all that much income), Britta's wish unfortunately has to remain one. However, one day, when her parents are at the market selling their flowers and vegetables, Britta-Kajsa opens a roadside gate for an elderly gentleman driving his carriage and since (like is usually the case when Swedish children open gates for carriages) the old man has no money on him, he instead gives to Britta a seed that she should plant in the garden (and which seed is supposed to grow into a bond fide doll). And indeed, this does in fact happen in Die Puppe Mirabell, so that after the seed has been planted and tended, a doll does actually sprout and then grow in Britta-Kasja's garden, a fun and sometimes mischievous entity named Mirabell (insisting on this name), who is not only a toy, but quickly and lastingly becomes a flesh and blood companion for Britta, not at all a haunted doll, but definitely an animated, breathing and living one.
So with Die Puppe Mirabell for both my inner child and adult me, Lindgren's text (and Britta-Kasja's first person narration), this shows a delightful combination of reality and fantasy, a sweet and fun story that makes us both smile and also makes us really happy for the main protagonist. For indeed, Britta-Kasja's wish for a doll has been granted and that she also has to a point created Mirabell as well, since she tended and cared for the doll seed (so that in Die Puppe Mirabell, Mirabell is not just a doll but is also Britta's best friend, that Mirabell feels like both a manifestation of Britta-Kajsa's need for closeness, friendship and affection and is at the same time kind of like her own daughter and a part of herself, the part of Britta that is a bit wild, naughty and full of self-determination, but which is usually being suppressed and denied).
Now Die Puppe Mirabell (as Mirabell) was originally published in 1949 in the collection of Astrid Lindgren tales titled Nils-Karlsson Pyssling (and with Ilon Wikland's accompanying black and white drawings). And while Pija Lindenbaum's more recent colour illustrations are fun and with much visual detail, from Mirabell's telltale flyaway blonde tresses to a pet chicken which obviously is being used by Britta-Kasja as a replacement doll, sorry, but I personally find Wikland's pictures much much more to my tastes (and that I do find how Lindenbaum has rendered Mirabell's eyes as bit uncanny and creepy). So yes, for this here 2003 picture book Die Puppe Mirabell, five stars for Lindgren's story, for her words, but only three stars for Pija Lindenbaum's artwork, for a combined rating of four stars for Die Puppe Mirabell (and that I do certainly rather prefer my collection of Astrid Lindgren's fairy tales, where Die Puppe Mirabell has Ilon Wikland's artwork).