When I buy books *edit*

Once in a while I make it to a Readings somewhere about the place, usually the one in Lygon Street.
For the longest time I haven’t bought novels, but I’ve always bought children’s books. For when I have kids some day? Not at all. There is a simplicity in children’s books that often hides some extremely poignant ideas, but unlike many of the other mediums I enjoy, children’s books don’t intentionally attempt to be abstract and representative, it’s just an amazing phenomenon of the medium. Something wonderful happens when things are expressed in simple ways with simple language, healthily helped along by often surreal images. I adore children’s books. They’re not all winners, but I’ve got quite a little collection going. I only lament the fact that I never purchased Colin Thompson’s mind-blowing Looking for Atlantis.

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I have decided I want a present.
It doesn’t have to be for Christmas, you may have trouble sourcing a pristine copy.
The present will be in the finding, I will gladly pay for it including shipping.
If you want my undying love, or at least a little more respect, you may track down an undamaged, hard-cover copy of Looking for Atlantis by Colin Thompson, first published in 1993.
Here is the ISBN 1-85681-266-9 – and you know it’s serious business when someone goes that far. I realise I could probably track one down myself and I’m not fully committed to this, however it will be so much sweeter if you do it.

*Edit* – You all lose. freckles. has found it for me and she wins even more loveliness than she usually gets by her own merits, and a link to her diary. Read her – she is better than you because she found me the book.

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On to my weekend purchases;

The Red Shoes by Hans Christian Andersen as envisioned by illustrator Sun Young Yoo, re-written by Gloria Fowler.
I bought this purely for its illustrations which Yoo has done entirely in pen and ink, black and white. Her illustrations remind me of Ai Yazawa, though I wouldn’t say they look similar in style, it’s just the flair and amazing stylisation grabs me in a similar way.
One thing I must note is that Gloria Fowler has committed an error of language use that I found extremely difficult to forgive; I almost didn’t purchase the book because of it. I quote:
Although her mother could not afford to buy Karen hardly anything at all…
Don’t do this.
Not in a children’s book, I would probably not even grace it in a pre-teen’s book as even at that age they may not be able to identify that this is simply unwieldly and is a perversion of language and should not be used unless as an example of a specific culture.
In any case, I would not allow any children of mine to read it until I knew I could explain it to them so that the book does not contribute to bad habits. Overlooking this one glaring error, the illustrations really are amazing.

Tales from outer suburbia, by Shaun Tan.
It’s by Shaun Tan and I don’t have it.
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That’s why I bought it.
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I have no idea what’s in it, just that his name is on the front.
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No really, I did flick through it and it has more text than any book he’s ever written as it’s a collection of short-stories, so for all I know it might not be the best, but I’m totally willing to pony-up the cash and give him a go. His last book The Arrival has no text at all and is phenomenally amazing (you’re going to see a lot of superlative adjectives in this entry). I did not buy The Rabbits or whatever it’s called, basically because I didn’t like it, it was co-written with Gary Crew or another Australian author, but to date his best book is The Red Tree which I have in both hard and soft-cover. You need to buy this book. It is one of the best pieces of literature and illustration to ever be created in history.

Little Cat and the Big Red Bus, by Jane Godwin and Anna Walker.
I cried when I read this, in-fact it reminded me of The Red Tree somewhat, which also made me cry the first time I read it and still has the power to when I re-read it at certain times. Little Cat and the Big Red Bus is beautifully rendered in pencil, pastel and watercolour, and predictably for a book I love, minimalist. At this point it’s probably worth mentioning that Colin Thompson is actually not minimalist at all, his illustrations are often overstuffed with detail, but it’s really amazing, you have to see it to believe it… but we’re not talking about him, we’re talking about Little Cat. It’s such a wonderfully simple but heart-warming story, it speaks to two emotional themes at once; the feeling of loneliness as a child when lost, and also the isolation and reunion that is felt as an adult. I’m always amazed to find books like this, as sometimes I’ll read a children’s book that is somewhat similar, but just lacks the prose and imagery to evoke those deep and boundless emotions that sometimes even the most complex and detailed of texts cannot reach.

I’m thinking of writing a bookshelf entry of all the children’s books I have as I have quite a collection now. The problem for me would be in keeping it concise and reigning in my enthusiasm, I assure you that I could probably gush, analyse and muse about just one of these books all day.

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When I took the books up to the counter to pay for them (Readings staff are always awesome people), we joked about my red theme; the young woman said I should get The Red Tree when she saw Shaun Tan’s Tales, but I told her I already had it, and I’d purchased it about three times from that very Readings store. Maybe I should have bought a copy anyway, I’m sure I could give it to someone. I might even give it to you, if you charm and enchant me enough.

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If you were at my house, and you were reading my hard-cover copy of The Red Tree, and you cried on it… I may not forgive you.
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Just keep that in mind.