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A review by zahiryn
The Cottingley Fairies by Ana Sender
3.0
*I received an ARC of this book through NetGalley in exchange for an honest review*
Maybe this book isn’t really about fairies —though there are fairies in every page. Maybe this beautifully illustrated book is about the things children can see, before adulthood comes knocking and everything looks, to quote the book, “harder and sharper”.
As I read it —or, more accurately, studied its images and few words—, I was immediately transported to my childhood. Like many, I imagine, I remember hearing about the Cottingley Fairies when I was very, very young. My father told me. Though he was a skeptic of all things magical, I still believed in fairies, then; thought I could glimpse them dancing among the leaves in the woods behind my house. Now, as I studied the pictures in this book, I felt six again, playing hide-and-seek with things that don’t exist. There are words for the sensation this little retelling evoked: wonder, and awe, and something like unadulterated delight.
In 1918, as the nations finished their first World War, Elsie Wright and her cousin Frances Griffith took a series of photographs in their garden. In the pictures, the girls claimed, were the fairies. And in the pictures, indeed, there were fairies (if they were real or made of paper, I believe, is up to you). The images, now infamous, were a phenomenon —more so when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle became their biggest fan. Everyone wanted to see them, visit the garden, and find the fairies for themselves. The book tells this story through dozens of illustrations, as recounted years later by Elsie.
"The Cottingley Fairies" is a touching little gem about finding bliss in the darkest time, whether real or imagined, and sharing it with those around us. It is mostly a picture book, though, and I understand this might not be for everyone. The wording is pretty, but it’s scarce. If you’re expecting a long narration, you’ll be sorely disappointed. But, if like me, you still find joy in “reading” a book of pictures, or love illustrations on their own, you’ll enjoy this one.
It will be perfect for parents and guardians who wish to go over the pictures with their children, exploring their details and secrets with them. The illustrations, after all, are gorgeous. There’s a child-like quality to the lines, a wobbliness, that is downright charming. The ever-present blacks, whites and grays make the bursts of blues, oranges and reds stand out, demanding attention. And there are so many fairies, both hiding and parading in plain sight.
Maybe this book isn’t really about fairies —though there are fairies in every page. Maybe this beautifully illustrated book is about the things children can see, before adulthood comes knocking and everything looks, to quote the book, “harder and sharper”.
As I read it —or, more accurately, studied its images and few words—, I was immediately transported to my childhood. Like many, I imagine, I remember hearing about the Cottingley Fairies when I was very, very young. My father told me. Though he was a skeptic of all things magical, I still believed in fairies, then; thought I could glimpse them dancing among the leaves in the woods behind my house. Now, as I studied the pictures in this book, I felt six again, playing hide-and-seek with things that don’t exist. There are words for the sensation this little retelling evoked: wonder, and awe, and something like unadulterated delight.
In 1918, as the nations finished their first World War, Elsie Wright and her cousin Frances Griffith took a series of photographs in their garden. In the pictures, the girls claimed, were the fairies. And in the pictures, indeed, there were fairies (if they were real or made of paper, I believe, is up to you). The images, now infamous, were a phenomenon —more so when Sir Arthur Conan Doyle became their biggest fan. Everyone wanted to see them, visit the garden, and find the fairies for themselves. The book tells this story through dozens of illustrations, as recounted years later by Elsie.
"The Cottingley Fairies" is a touching little gem about finding bliss in the darkest time, whether real or imagined, and sharing it with those around us. It is mostly a picture book, though, and I understand this might not be for everyone. The wording is pretty, but it’s scarce. If you’re expecting a long narration, you’ll be sorely disappointed. But, if like me, you still find joy in “reading” a book of pictures, or love illustrations on their own, you’ll enjoy this one.
It will be perfect for parents and guardians who wish to go over the pictures with their children, exploring their details and secrets with them. The illustrations, after all, are gorgeous. There’s a child-like quality to the lines, a wobbliness, that is downright charming. The ever-present blacks, whites and grays make the bursts of blues, oranges and reds stand out, demanding attention. And there are so many fairies, both hiding and parading in plain sight.