I was so moved by this book that I had to post about it.
Here's what happened. SF and I were cozied up in B & N's big club chairs with coffee and tea in hand when I glanced over at SF's big pile of picture books. As I cracked a YA and scanned the pages, she put the aforementioned book down and said, "That was good."
Being the curious little mouse that I am, I reached over and grabbed it to read myself. The lovey-doveyness appealed to my romantic side immediately and the illustrations are incredible - they are beautifully sparse with very little color and have a strange japanese quality about them. Oh! and this author, Peter McCarty, is also the illustrator.
But here's what was weird. When I finished it, I looked up and said, "That was the dumbest book I've ever read."
SF looked at me.
I tilted my head in confusion. "But I think I want to read it again."
SF tilted hers.
"It's like the stupidest story but, it has this seed of truth and the illustrations... They rock! And, if I were a kid, I'd want to read it over and over again, I think."
I went on, confused. "I can't figure out if it's brilliant or bizarre?"
And I can't. I still can't and yet I wish I owned it. The text was as sparse as the illustrations making it almost boring in it's simplicity. This book made me wonder what the conversations were like between the author and the editor? Was careful thought taken to choose each word, or not?
This is obviously why I have found my niche in novels. They're easier. I once heard that picture books is the hardest genre to write and I believe it. I'm gonna leave them to SF - she's better at it. (Y'all aren't gonna believe what she's working on now!)
In the end, I can't decide what I think about this book - but it definitely made an impression. And you know what?
I think I loved it.