STILL LIFE

A canvas depicting an assemblage of items on a tablecloth comes to life, upending traditional assumptions surrounding artistic conventions.

The book’s narrator—an earnest, light-skinned artist with curly, salt-and-pepper hair—announces, “This is a still life. A painting of objects sitting still. In a still life, nothing moves.” A close-up reveals succulent fruit, a quill pen and an inkwell, and a castlelike dollhouse. In contrast to the painter and other characters, rendered as bright, flat caricatures, the painting is portrayed with a range of colors, subtle shading, soft texture, and a wealth of detail. As the artist continues with inspired musings about stillness, two mice appear and run inside the painting. The narrator urges readers to ignore the “jammy footprints” emerging from an open jar within the painting. Next, a dragon steps forth; the painter stresses that such creatures don’t belong “in this sort of painting.” Then a valiant knight arrives to slay the dragon, and a tan-skinned princess appears on the dollhouse’s throne. Zelinsky’s hilarious, action-packed scenes—a combination of hand drawing and digital work—contrast with the narrator’s serious admonitions not to acknowledge the dragon’s desperate plea for help, nor to pay any attention as the princess uses a spool of thread to zip-line down to join the ensuing chaos. Readers will be left with plenty to laugh—and learn—about as the artist exits.

A superb example of text and image telling opposing stories—and of the humor that can be found in the intersection.