The illustrator P. J. Lynch lends his skillful brush to extraordinary depictions of familiar stories.
The illustrator P. J. Lynch lends his skillful brush to extraordinary depictions of familiar stories.
I f I mention Tomie dePaola’s Christmas picture books one more time, I’ll be labeled a broken record. So instead, I’ll bring to your attention today two other Christmas books. Each is written by a different author, but both are brought to life through the skillful brush of P. J. Lynch.
Let’s begin with The Gift of the Magi, by the inimitable O. Henry. In my high school days, I was a lowly but eager aide at my local library. I gained plenty of marketable skills during my tenure there — one of which was the ability to carry close to (or maybe more than, I don’t remember) 20 DVD cases at once and reshelve them without dropping any — but I really just enjoyed being among the stacks. There were many treasures on those shelves, even in that small branch library, and one of these was a massive, black-bound hardcover collection of O. Henry’s short stories. I must’ve checked out this book a dozen times — and incurred plenty of late fees on it — and each perusal deepened my appreciation for this American writer.
It was here I first read The Gift of the Magi, which is a sweet tale about a young married couple living in turn-of-the-century New York City. They’re terribly poor, but both are determined to buy some Christmas present worthy of the other person. Well known though this tale is by now (my favorite adaptation being the dramatized audio version from Focus on the Family’s Adventures in Odyssey series), it’s always a heartwarming read. Lynch’s gift for portraying charming facial expressions makes his artwork the perfect match for Henry’s words, which tell the tale in an almost bemused tone.
Done in watercolor, Lynch’s palette is mainly warm browns and yellows. Our eye is drawn to each page’s actions not because of their vibrancy but because of their detail. Watercolor, so often associated with hazy landscapes and much less with figure drawing, is used to perfection here. The lights and shadows and reflections Lynch puts into each spread draw us into the world of Della and Jim: to the grey streets of New York, to their humble but tidy flat. We are invited into their hopes and dreams and inspired by their simple, self-giving love for each other.
Though still perfectly recognizable as his art, Lynch’s painting style seems to shift in Susan Wojciechowski’s The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey. If The Gift of the Magi made you chuckle a bit, Wojciechowski’s classic will make you cry. First, a brief synopsis.
Written in 1995, The Christmas Miracle of Jonathan Toomey tells the story of how the kindness of a widow and her son helps to heal the broken heart of the town wood-carver, Jonathan Toomey. The newly arrived pair has lost their beloved wooden Nativity set, and they go to Toomey — the town’s best wood-carver — with a request for a new one. Toomey, somber and gruff under the weight of some secret sorrow, very grudgingly agrees to the task. He is surprised when his clients appear at his door, day after day, because Thomas, the son, wishes to watch him work. I’m particularly drawn to young Thomas, especially his honest observations about Toomey’s carving. Never rude or demanding, Thomas appreciates the carver’s skill but asks that he make, in turn, sheep that “looked happy,” a cow that “looked proud,” and an “important angel.” All of these characters, Thomas insists, are happy, proud, and important because they know they accompany and serve the Christ Child.
Little by little, Toomey’s heart is awakened to love once more, culminating in his carving of the final figurine containing Jesus and Mary.
The pictures in this book emit a sort of warm glow — again, not vibrant, but highly detailed. To my eye, the stylistic change is that everything looks carved. While still capturing beautiful facial expressions and intricate counter-play between light and shadow, Lynch somehow makes the watercolored images in a book about a master wood-carver hint at that very craft.
Lynch has also added his name to the list of marvelous illustrators to tackle Clement C. Moore’s ’Twas the Night before Christmas and has an excellent-looking version of Dickens’s A Christmas Carol. That last one I’m hoping to find at the library. Another element that I find wonderful about Lynch’s pictures is the perspective he uses in each. His scenes shift from straightforward depictions to bird’s-eye views to detailed street scenes. You may be looking at a wedding through a cracked-open door, a feast laid out below a balcony, or an embracing Della and Jim from behind a pot on the stove. This imaginative use of space is why I’m hoping to find his A Christmas Carol — who knows what perspectives he’ll have on the world of Ebenezer Scrooge.
As a gift for yourself or someone else, or simply as a gem to discover at your local library, P. J. Lynch’s illustrated works are a wonderful addition to this season.