Review by New York Times Review
WHAT'S with Christmas? So anxious. So self-conscious. Always fretting about its "true spirit." Always taking its own temperature or rummaging around for "the real meaning of." Increasingly paranoid about the "war against." Begging, inevitably, to be saved - December after December after December. Does any other holiday demand magic when a mere day off and a pleasant dinner would suffice? If Christmas were a friend, I'd beg her to go on Zoloft or maybe Thorazine - at least talk to someone, for God's sake. Or eat some fudge and shut up. The one good thing about Yuletide angst is that it has provided generations of writers and artists and producers of television specials with one of pop culture's most reliable narrative engines. No one worries about the real meaning of Halloween; no one would care or perhaps even notice if the Grinch stole Father's Day. But threaten to spoil Christmas - sabotage Santa's sleigh, hold a gun to a carton of eggnog - and you are guaranteed drama, tears, miracles, the bestest Christmas ever, God bless us every one, except Charlie Brown, that blockhead - but no, him too! A Christian might argue that this redemptive trope goes back to the original Christmas narrative: the ticking clock of Mary's pregnancy, the schlep to Bethlehem, the inn with no room, the lo-and-behold manger, the big, starlit finale. . . . Why, plucky Christmas has been triumphing over adversity since (truly) Day 1! Cut to the present day: Did someone tell publishers there's a market for Christmas books? Looks like it, judging from the red and green covers, especially in the children's section. Then again, Christmas is often said to be "for" children, so perhaps no one is too young to shoulder its peculiar narrative burdens. And sometimes the results really do approach magic, as with "Lighthouse Christmas" and "A Christmas Tree for Pyn." I was particularly affected by "Lighthouse," set during the Depression on a remote island off the coast of Maine, where young Frances and Peter's father works as a lighthouse keeper. Their mother has recently died, though the loss serves only as a kind of sad, sustained cello note, underscoring the tale with something more resonant than merely the threat of a storm-ruined holiday. And Toni Buzzeo's text homes in on just the right details to keep her narrative grounded in both physical and emotional reality. Equally restrained yet full of feeling, Nancy Carpenter's illustrations, a mixture of pen and ink and watercolor, hit an evocative, cinematic peak in depicting a nighttime rescue at sea, a harrowing event that propels the story to its happy ending. The holiday's true meaning is discovered in shared humanity - in family, that old holiday canard - with the assist of a deus ex machina. (Which I suppose is theologically apt.) What I'm grateful for this Christmas is that rather than bang readers over the head, Buzzeo and Carpenter end their story on a quiet note of inclusion involving a one-eared cat. Here is true grace in unlikely surroundings - away in a manger, so to speak. "A Christmas Tree for Pyn" plies parallel waters while striking a more folkloric note. "On top of a steep craggy mountain lived a bear of a man named Oother and his small daughter, Pyn," begins our story, which appears to take place in a Northern European Neverland. Here, too, Mama is absent; dead, again, it is presumed. Fortunately, there are no wicked stepmothers or witches, just a gentle tale of how the search for a Christmas tree allows Oother to break through his implied grief and native reserve to show his love for little Pyn. It's a neat trick Obvier Dunrea ("Gossie") pulls off, using the trappings of a timeworn tale to tell a story with a contemporary, learning-to-live-again moral; imagine a cross between the Brothers Grimm and a Diane Lane movie. But I'm making "A Christmas Tree for Pyn" sound gooier than it is. Dunrea's illustrations reflect the canny, emotional subtlety of his storytelling. Sweet and plainspun but also modern and graphic, they remind me a bit of the work of prewar picture book makers like Esphyr Slobodkina ("Caps for Sale") and Wanda Gag ("Millions of Cats"). If Christmas needs saving this year, you could do much, much worse than these two books, and probably have. Bruce Handy, a deputy editor at Vanity Fair, is writing a book about reading children's books as an adult.
Copyright (c) The New York Times Company [December 4, 2012]
Review by Booklist Review
This gentle holiday story of love and redemption focuses on young Pyn and her taciturn-to-the-point-of-grumpy father, Oother. Pyn's mother isn't present it isn't explained why and sadness permeates this small family. Even so, Pyn longs for a real Christmas tree, and she has been making ornaments out of things found in nature, such as feathers and hornets' nests. Each night, she asks Papa about getting a tree, and each night he gruffly responds, My name is Oother. It is not until Pyn is in danger, having gone into the snowy forest herself to look for a tree, that Oother manages to break through his frozen demeanor, first to help her, then to bestow a meaningful gift (a beautiful bird ornament he had made for her mother), and finally to allow her to call him Papa. The clean design, featuring pencil-and-gouache illustrations on a snow-white background, suits the wintry setting and quiet tone of the narrative. While there is no mention of the holiday's actual genesis, the spirit of Pyn's tale is true to the original Christmas story.--Foote, Diane Copyright 2010 Booklist
From Booklist, Copyright (c) American Library Association. Used with permission.
Review by Publisher's Weekly Review
"Oother loved his daughter very much. But he was a bearlike mountain man who did not soften for anyone." A cheerful girl in spiky pigtails and clogs gradually breaks down her gruff father's defenses with her persistent pursuit of their first "real" Christmas tree. Dun-rea's (Old Bear and His Cub) talent for capturing a mood of majestic stillness in snowy landscapes shines yet again, as does his skill at creating cozy, rustic details-bushy fur coats and boots, tree-stump beds, a stone hearth-that suggest a mythical time. Pyn and Papa's warming relationship is one to celebrate any time of year. Ages 3-8. (Oct.) (c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved.
(c) Copyright PWxyz, LLC. All rights reserved
Review by School Library Journal Review
K-Gr 2-"My name is Oother," says the mountain man when his daughter calls him Papa. The brief exchange is a typical one between this parent and child with polar opposite personalities. Hardened by nature and perhaps by sadness (masterfully conveyed when he thinks "How very much like her mother she is"), Oother is unable to express his love, much less consider celebrating Christmas. Brightness and adoration come easier for tiny, pig-tailed Pyn, who keeps the house comfortable and clean and dreams of having a Christmas tree. The snowdrift landscape and pencil and gouache artwork are not the only similarities to Dunrea's Old Bear and His Cub (Philomel, 2010). Oother has the same grizzled bulk and gruff demeanor as Old Bear, and Pyn seems all the more petite bundled in a red-tasseled scarf that one imagines came from the same skein used to knit Little Cub's. This heartwarming story of parental love, in which a girl is rewarded for her gentleness and quiet determination, would make a wonderful read during the holiday season and beyond.-Joanna K. Fabicon, Los Angeles Public Library (c) Copyright 2011. Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright Library Journals LLC, a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Horn Book Review
Little Pyn lives in a desolate cottage with her father, Oother, a gruff, unsentimental mountain man. Pyn wants a Christmas tree this year -- the small family's first -- but Oother, with an "umphf," replies, "No Christmas tree." Determined Pyn sets out in a snowstorm to find the perfect tree and gets some surprising help from Oother. Eventually, Oother allows his daughter's love to warm his tough exterior, and his holiday spirit is revealed. Dunrea's simple pencil and gouache pictures depict the pair's differences (both in size and demeanor) and, gradually, their quiet mutual affection. This heartfelt tale is as much about father-daughter bonding as it is about the power of Christmas to melt a cold heart. katrina hedeen (c) Copyright 2011. The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
(c) Copyright The Horn Book, Inc., a wholly owned subsidiary of Media Source, Inc. No redistribution permitted.
Review by Kirkus Book Review
Little Pyn lives in a cottage on top of a mountain with her cranky giant of a father, who doesn't want to celebrate Christmasor raise a daughter by himself, either.In this odd but touching Christmas story, Pyn keeps house for her father and tries to please him with tasty food and a tidy home. Her father refuses to be called "papa," repeating that his name is Oother. Readers learn early in the story that Oother has lost his wife, with a subtle glimpse into his troubled thoughts ("how very like her mother she is"). After a search in the snowy forest, Pyn acquires her first Christmas tree, which she decorates with birds' nests and feathers, and Oother gives her a bird ornament that he made for Pyn's mother long ago. The sight of the decorated tree brings father and daughter closer, with Oother finally telling his child to call him "papa" and calling her "daughter" as he tucks her into bed. Minimalist illustrations in gouache and ink show the two characters in profile against stark, white backgrounds that suggest the frozen emotional environment in the home.The tale of Pyn and her father has psychological ties to the story of Heidi and her grandfather, with a similar theme of the love of a little girl cracking open a crusty heart.(Picture book. 4-8)]] Copyright Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.
