On Picture Books

 The thing that moves me in art is specificity; a basic gesture can be memorable if the artist really thinks about the details. In the current production of “Cabaret,” when Herr Schultz presents Fraulein Schneider with a pineapple, he has to insert it into a paper bag. This becomes an erotic act; Schneider stumbles because of the new, massive “rod” in her “bag.” It’s an excellent choice.

A picture book I like—“A Chair for My Mother”—tells a simple story. A little girl lives with her single mother, who is a waitress. One day, the apartment goes up in flames. The town rallies around the little girl; life begins again. But Mom doesn’t have a comfortable chair. After a lengthy savings campaign, the family discovers they are capable of purchasing a new chair. Hooray! That’s the end.

The reason this book is a classic is its tiny, tiny observations. For example, the girl notices that “some days, Mom comes home from work and she is half-awake, and other days, she is laughing because of a joke.” Once the new chair is acquired, the little girl reports that “I can’t sit in it during the truck ride, but when my uncle carries it upstairs, I’m allowed to be on the cushion, like a queen.” The girl also recalls remarks from her grandmother; these remarks show us a good deal about the character, without making use of a clumsy lecture. “Thank you,” the grandmother says to her neighbors, after a potluck dinner. “This fire is hard, but we’re lucky to be young enough that we can start over.”

It’s difficult to find a good picture book. Here is one.