On Dusíková's edition of The Princess and the Pea :
'Dusikova's pictures are full of soft edges and soft colours, with pretty architectual details and an assortment of castle denizens, including a pair of cats and a toddler in a jester's motley. A rendering to bring a smile or possibly a giggle.'– Kirkus Reviews
'Maja Dusikova's Rapunzel retells a classic fairy tale and adds lovely, soft-edged drawings... Good reading skills or parental assistance will lend to the beautiful story of a braided beauty with a beautiful voice and a brave prince who breaks her isolation.'– Midwest Book Review
08/01/2017
Zelinsky (Swamp Angel) does a star turn with this breathtaking interpretation of a favorite fairy tale. Daringlyand effectivelymimicking the masters of Italian Renaissance painting, he creates a primarily Tuscan setting. His Rapunzel, for example, seems a relative of Botticelli's immortal red-haired beauties, while her tower appears an only partially fantastic exaggeration of a Florentine bell tower. For the most part, his bold experiment brilliantly succeeds: the almost otherworldly golden light with which he bathes his paintings has the effect of consecrating them, elevating them to a grandeur befitting their adoptive art-historical roots. If at times his compositions and their references to specific works seem a bit self-conscious, these cavils are easily outweighed by his overall achievement. The text, like the art, has a rare complexity, treating Rapunzel's imprisonment as her sorceress-adopted mother's attempt to preserve her from the effects of an awakening sexuality. Again like the art, this strategy may resonate best with mature readers. Young children may be at a loss, for example, when faced with the typically well-wrought but elliptical passage in which the sorceress discovers Rapunzel's liaisons with the prince when the girl asks for help fastening her dress (as her true mother did at the story's start): " `It is growing so tight around my waist, it doesn't want to fit me anymore.' Instantly the sorceress understood what Rapunzel did not." On the other hand, with his sophisticated treatment, Zelinsky demonstrates a point established in his unusually complete source notes: that timeless tales like Rapunzel belong to adults as well as children. Ages 5-up. (Oct.)
Publishers Weekly - Publisher's Weekly
As with her artwork for The Emperor's New Clothes, Duntze's fanciful illustrations add enchanting new dimensions to this well-loved tale. A wordless spread of the witch's glorious garden makes manifest the compulsion by her pregnant neighbor to secure its contents-though she will come to rue the price (her baby, Rapunzel). The witch, meanwhile, looks human from the waist up, with beefy bare arms and white hair pulled back in unusual buns, but her dress is fashioned from large cabbage leaves, home to slugs, snails and a frog, and partly concealing long, snake-like tentacles. Duntze plays with dimensions to create a sense of fairyland enchantment. Huge human teeth crown the walls around the witch's garden, while inside (obscured from the neighbors' view), dandelion weeds loom large. Layers of gold and rust-colored carpets give Rapunzel's lonely tower cell a cozy feel, as do the yellow pear on which she sits, the enormous snail that serves as her bed, and the stuffed animals that keep her company. The bleak wilderness into which the witch banishes Rapunzel (after learning of the prince's visits) markedly contrasts with the opulence of previous settings, emphasizing the witch's cruelty. In the final scene, the prince returns with Rapunzel and their children to his kingdom, which Duntze portrays as a formal garden set under towering strawberry plants, bringing the visual theme full circle. The arresting art abounds with sensuality and charm, making this version a welcome reimagining of a classic tale. Ages 4-up. (Sept.) Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.
European illustrator Dusikova interprets the familiar fairy tale with dreamy, dark watercolors. Observed by cats, butterflies, and birds, Rapunzel, the witch, and the king's son play out the story. Unfortunately, the second page of text, set against a charcoal background, is difficult to read. Predictably, the witch has a long nose, Rapunzel is demure and blond, and the prince is boyishly handsome. Dusikova's forte is her exquisite, misty landscape art. ...Bell's translation is for the most part, faithful to the traditional story. Only the twins have been removed, perhaps to suit the sensibilities of those opposed to unwed motherhood.
Exquisite paintings in late Italian Renaissance style illumine this hybrid version of a classic tale.
As Zelinsky (The Wheels on the Bus, 1990, etc.) explains in a long source note, the story's Italian oral progenitor went through a series of literary revisions and translations before the Brothers Grimm published their own take; he draws on many of these to create a formal, spare text that is more about the undercurrents between characters than crime and punishment. Feeling "her dress growing tight around her waist" a woman conceives the desire for an herb from the neighboring garden—rendered in fine detail with low clipped hedges, elaborate statuary and even a wandering pangolin—that causes her to lose her child to a witch. Ensconced for years in a tower, young Rapunzel meets the prince, "marries" him immediately, is cast into the wilderness when her own dress begins to tighten, gives birth to twins, and cures her husband's blindness with her tears at their long-awaited reunion. Suffused with golden light, Zelinsky's landscapes and indoor scenes are grandly evocative, composed and executed with superb technical and emotional command. (Picture book/folklore. 8-10) Exquisite paintings in late Italian Renaissance style illumine this hybrid version of a classic tale.
As Zelinsky (The Wheels on the Bus, 1990, etc.) explains in a long source note, the story's Italian oral progenitor went through a series of literary revisions and translations before the Brothers Grimm published their own take; he draws on many of these to create a formal, spare text that is more about the undercurrents between characters than crime and punishment. Feeling "her dress growing tight around her waist" a woman conceives the desire for an herb from the neighboring garden—rendered in fine detail with low clipped hedges, elaborate statuary and even a wandering pangolin—that causes her to lose her child to a witch. Ensconced for years in a tower, young Rapunzel meets the prince, "marries" him immediately, is cast into the wilderness when her own dress begins to tighten, gives birth to twins, and cures her husband's blindness with her tears at their long-awaited reunion. Suffused with golden light, Zelinsky's landscapes and indoor scenes are grandly evocative, composed and executed with superb technical and emotional command. (Picture book/fol
