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Book Review: The Complete Brambly Hedge by Jill Barklem
Title: The Complete Brambly Hedge
Author: Jill Barklem
Published: HarperCollins Children, 2011 (1980-1994)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 534,960
Text Number: 1959-6
Read Because: personal enjoyment, hardback borrowed from the Timberland Regional Library
Review: The lavishly illustrated domestic lives of the mice of Brambly Hedge. With one exception, I've already forgotten every plot; it's mice going through the motions of a conservative ideal of British country living, who cares. The exception is The Secret Staircase, which is The Secret Garden: Indoor Mouse edition, private and mysterious and immensely transporting. But plots be damned; the vibes are off the charts. The art is deliciously detailed, with clutter that overwhelms the border of each image and captivating cutaway interiors that are simultaneously vast and minute. I Spy meets Huygen and Poortvliet's Gnomes. I want to crawl into the pages and live there forever, which is the intent, of course, but succeeds even without the gloss of nostalgia, as I never knew these as a kid.
Author: Jill Barklem
Published: HarperCollins Children, 2011 (1980-1994)
Rating: 4 of 5
Page Count: 255
Total Page Count: 534,960
Text Number: 1959-6
Read Because: personal enjoyment, hardback borrowed from the Timberland Regional Library
Review: The lavishly illustrated domestic lives of the mice of Brambly Hedge. With one exception, I've already forgotten every plot; it's mice going through the motions of a conservative ideal of British country living, who cares. The exception is The Secret Staircase, which is The Secret Garden: Indoor Mouse edition, private and mysterious and immensely transporting. But plots be damned; the vibes are off the charts. The art is deliciously detailed, with clutter that overwhelms the border of each image and captivating cutaway interiors that are simultaneously vast and minute. I Spy meets Huygen and Poortvliet's Gnomes. I want to crawl into the pages and live there forever, which is the intent, of course, but succeeds even without the gloss of nostalgia, as I never knew these as a kid.