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The
Art of the Russian Matryoshka
Anyone who's ever enjoyed
seeing or playing with a series of wooden nesting dolls--matryoshki
in Russian--will gravitate instinctively to Ertl and Hibberd's lavishly
illustrated tome. In it, several myths are quickly debunked: first,
that these dolls were born in the Motherland (they emigrated from Japan);
and second, that all are made from a single piece of wood (actually,
one linden tree trunk yields about four or five blanks). The authors
continue to reveal the world of matryoshki, including designs, manufacturing,
themes, production centers, artists, and purchase of this native toy.
The color photographs alone are worth the price, aiding a true appreciation
of the art, whether readers admire the elegantly decorated Cinderella
dolls or a wonderfully comic Bill Clinton and "family." Includes a useful
glossary of English and Russian terms.
For
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With illustrations
quaint enough for Christmas cards, an author's note that explains the
history of nesting dolls, and a story reminiscent of The Tin Soldier,
Bliss's (Matthew's Meadow) picture book will especially please collectors
of Russian matryoshkas. The story begins "in a small shop in a snowy
village in Russia," where Nikolai the doll maker, a Geppetto-like wood
carver, fashions a set of six nesting dolls. He tells them, "You are
six sisters," and names each one. Anna, the largest doll, watches as
they travel to America, where they are lined up on a shelf, and the
smallest doll, Nina, is accidentally knocked to the floor and kicked
outside into the snow. After a plow scoops up Nina and a snow truck
dumps her outside of town, the shopkeeper sells the remaining matroyoshkas
to a girl, Jessie, for half-price. Nina rides a river of melting snow
to a stream, is picked up by a heron, found by a squirrel, tumbles down
a rain pipe and is eventually found by Jessie and her cat, who reunite
the six sisters. "How they rejoiced to be together again!" as "Anna
smiled the smile that had been painted on by Nikolai the doll maker
in Russia, so long ago." Brown's (Tough Boris) paintings are sweetly
old-fashioned, the images perceived as if behind a scrim of fantasy.
They suit the nostalgic mood of the narrative. What this story lacks
in originality, it makes up for in neatness. The elements fit together
as cozily as the dolls nesting one inside the other. For
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