Date: July 07 2012
No doubt after any natural disaster - bushfires, floods, droughts - childrens' book publishers are inundated with a tsunami of well-intentioned manuscripts by would-be authors trying to seize an opportunity to ride a wave. What more noble challenge for an author than to try to make sense of these scenarios in a way that is appealing and comforting for the young?
Alex and the Watermelon Boat is Chris McKimmie's sixth book to be published by Allen & Unwin. Rather than tell children how to respond to a disaster, or indeed what to even make of such an event, this story - written shortly after the Brisbane floods of 2011 - allows young readers the space to do their own thinking, a trait common in all of McKimmie's books. The flood in this book is a mere backdrop to the real quest, a boy's brave search in a watermelon boat for his beloved stuffed rabbit.
But be warned, there is no sentimentality here. An overweight hoarder rows by with an unfeasably large stockpile of TV dinners, baked beans and fish fingers. A robber steals sausages from Barry the Gourmet Butcher. Alex wishes he could do something but knows he must not be distracted from his task.
Sad characters hang out in trees; a piano floats by. Stranded cows and miscellaneous characters and landmarks from McKimmie's earlier books make surprising cameos. But Alex sails beyond them all, propelled magically along in his watermelon boat by the rising tide.
Picture books should always be visually surprising. McKimmie excels in his ability to make illustrations that look as if they are working themselves out on the page. What some may see as over-simplicity of style or even lack of technique is in fact a demonstration of graphic dexterity and confidence honed over decades of creating art. (Think the fine art of Chagall colliding with the graphic sensibilities of Saul Steinberg.)
You can see the marks, scribbles and scratches, the tracing paper and the masking tape. The images don't hoodwink the reader with slick, sanitised style; they proudly carry their bumps and splats and wonky bits. The cut and paste here is real, not electronic.
The drawings appear almost childlike and therein lies there greatest surprise. The young reader needn't peer closely to see if they were created on a computer, or executed with expert watercolour technique. No smoke and mirrors, just pencils, glue, safety scissors and the odd bit of house paint. And good drawings. The sort of stuff close at hand for any inspired child to pick up and run with. ''See kids, you can make pictures like these, too!''
To prove the point, seamlessly interspersed in this book are elements of typography, painted images and images of balsa wood houses contributed by McKimmie's grandchildren.
As a former illustration lecturer at Griffith University in Queensland, McKimmie inspired many students (and, time to come clean here, back in the 1980s I was one of them) not necessarily to illustrate a text but to explore the relationship between text and image. To work with available materials, be they slick pixels or ratty toothbrush, and to explore the possibilities a journey brings, not just to judge yourself on how quickly or successfully you reach the final destination.
The celebration of creativity and inventiveness on the pages of this book may help young readers set sail on their own creative journey, just like Alex. All it takes is a pencil, some paper, an idea and an encouraging environment where mistakes are seen as natural, not as disasters.
ALEX AND THE WATERMELON BOAT
Allen & Unwin, 32pp, $29.95
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