Donald and the… is another book by Peter F. Neumeyer and Edward Gorey in which the grim style deployed in Gorey’s pictures functions to undermine readers’ expectations with regard to the conventions of representation typically employed in children’s books. Moreover, the story raises many questions that it does not answer. For instance, although Donald’s mother is an important character both in this book and in Donald Has a Difficulty, Donald’s father is not mentioned, nor is the reader told where he is. In one of the pictures, Donald is shown sitting on his bed working on a model of a building he has constructed from matches and glue. This suggests something of Donald’s capacity for imagination and planning, but also calls attention to the fact that Donald does not appear to own any toys—although the furniture (including the grotesque garbage can) imply that Donald and his mother are not poor, Donald is never shown with a toy car, a bicycle, even a stick and a hoop. Does this imply that Donald is living in the Victorian era, in which children were seen not as children, but as little adults? At the time Donald is building his model, he is in his bedroom because he has “painful ribs”; this is quite specific, and yet at the same time quite vague; what, exactly, is wrong with Donald? Perhaps the largest question the story raises is that of what happens after the narrative ends; events could go one of several ways, but Gorey and Neumeyer have left this last riddle for the reader to work out in his or her imagination.
Acquired Apr 3, 2010 City Lights Book Shop, London, Ontario
I like this one because of it's weirdness both Neumeyer and Gorey brings. Both are minimalist (text and illustration) which gives you that vintage feel. What supposed to be a predictable surprise turns into a very weird ending.
Edward Gorey's work is always delightful, and this little book is no different. Donald's misadventures buoy him through a dull, quiet, upper-class life, and this installment presents us with tales of metamorphosis. Charming!
given to me by something special. en lieu with Colette. children are heartbreakingly wonderful. it is powerful to remember that I have an imagination and it is just as legit as this (so called) reality.