On the surface this is a simple tale—a day in the life of a family in a Vietnamese fishing village. The father goes out to sea early in the morning; his wife stays home and makes soup as her child naps. They eagerly wait for father’s return.
The story turns a bit magical when the cricket who lives in a hole in the floor paints a scene of the father’s activities. He’s caught in a storm, looking at a picture of his family, hoping to return to them.
It’s beautifully done in every way. It feels a bit like gently rolling waves—rhythmic and soothing in its cyclical nature. Each new page repeats a bit from the previous page in text and illustration. And the whole tale comes full circle at the end as the father envisions his family in that house that has already been so carefully described. Where at the beginning he looked back toward his home, the book ends with his family looking out to sea toward him.
The illustrations are beautiful. They’re filled with wonderful details. I love seeing the carefully chopped vegetables on the table, the chilies hanging on the kitchen wall, the flip flops lined up just outside the back door. Chu uses creative angles and perspectives to bring visual interest. I love the overhead view of the kitchen with the baby reaching for the dog.
And then there’s that cricket. Is his painting really happening or has he imagined it? But perhaps that’s the point. In the author’s note, Muon Van says of her own fisherman father, “we would often wonder where my father was, if he found the catch he was looking for, and when he would return home again, safe and sound.” Those mysterious paintings convey this feeling very well.
On a more philosophical note, this story captures the essence of life—work, food, and family—and the beauty of those simple necessities. It underscores what home is.
No comments:
Post a Comment