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.

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by Corinne Demas Bliss, Tom Voss, Kathryn Brown (Illustrator) 
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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.
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