Practice and Persistence: The Art and Stories of Emily Arnold McCully

(Sarah Schutte)

Young readers will be informed and delighted by these exquisitely illustrated historical tales.

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Young readers will be informed and delighted by these exquisitely illustrated historical tales.

P icture-book writing is its own art form. Conveying a full idea or story in a limited space has its challenges, and even a well-written tale can flop because of the ill-conceived artwork accompanying it. Emily Arnold McCully understands the importance of this art-and-word pairing, and her books are a wonderful example of the happy marriage that can exist between the two. Add to this mix her meticulous historical research, and you have a winning formula for bringing incredible tales to life for young readers.

If you have heard of McCully before, it’s probably because of her Caldecott Medal–winning book, Mirette on the High Wire. A young Parisian girl is inspired to take up tightrope-walking after seeing the great Bellini practicing in her mother’s hotel courtyard. Though he does not want to, Bellini eventually agrees to teach Mirette when he sees her perseverance and determination. Mirette discovers that Bellini has given up performing owing to a fear of the rope, and she strives to help him overcome this terror. Though this first Mirette book is her most popular, McCully wrote two sequels, one set in Russia, the other in America.

The writer, and often illustrator, of over 30 books, McCully credits her success to a lifetime of practice. According to her website biography, she drew constantly as a young child, observing and trying to capture the world around her on paper. When she wasn’t creating and illustrating her own stories, she’d listen to the radio and come up with drawings for her favorite shows.

Illinois-born, McCully relocated to Long Island with her family when she was five, and she attended Pembroke College. While working at a New York City ad agency in the 1960s, McCully honed her artistic skills by writing short stories and drawing pictures. She eventually went back to school for a master’s degree in art history.

Though some people might mock such a degree, a look at McCully’s illustrations shows how it has benefited her. With its bright, detailed, watercolor style, McCully’s art is easily recognizable, but she also has a knack for capturing the setting and culture of her subject. Late-1800s Paris, colonial America, and 17th-century Venice all come to life in watercolor, tempera, and pastels. Her rendering of details, a particularly difficult feat in these mediums, is remarkable, especially in Little Kit, wherein some pictures involve depictions of tiny performing fleas. The mischievous expressions she captures on the face of little Catarina in The Orphan Singer bring a vividness to the tale.

Many of McCully’s books are historical, telling the stories of important scientists, explorers, and social reformers. Again, her thorough attention to detail comes to the fore here, as she carefully researches time periods and individuals for both the stories and the accompanying artwork.

As a musician myself, I most enjoyed The Orphan Singer, which tells the (fictional) story of young Catarina. Catarina is, supposedly, an orphan, and in 17th-century Venice, orphan girls are taken to an ospedalo. These welfare institutions (there were four in Venice at this time) supported themselves through silk-laundering businesses, lace-making, concerts, and other operations. Each had a board of governors and very strict rules of conduct. They each also had a magnificent music conservatory, and the girls were all trained vocally and on various instruments. The aforementioned concerts put on by the institutions were highly anticipated by Venetians, as the schools were renowned for their rigor and excellence. Antonio Vivaldi was the maestro of the Pieta ospedalo for some time. But back to the story: Our Catarina has the voice of an angel, but she is rather naughty. During the institution’s visiting hours, Catarina befriends the Dolci family, who bear a striking resemblance to her. At the story’s climax, she must risk her budding music career to save someone she dearly loves. This charming story covers a unique facet of history of which many people may be unaware, and McCully’s engaging dialogue and striking illustrations certainly captured this reader’s imagination.

So if you ever want to discover how Oney Judge escaped slavery, what John Muir did for naturalism in America, and who Manjiro was, look no further than Emily Arnold McCully’s works. Your eyes and mind will not be disappointed.

Sarah Schutte is the podcast manager for National Review and an associate editor for National Review magazine. Originally from Dayton, Ohio, she is a children's literature aficionado and Mendelssohn 4 enthusiast.
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