Countless illustrators have returned down the ages to the ancient magic of the fairytale. Here it seems that Felix Valloton in his halcyon years has returned to instil a new pace into a time-honoured tale, without, however, diminishing its power. The splendid illustrations resonate to mysterious melodies. Allusive line-work, intriguing faces and a subtle blend of ochre and grey tones are all bathed in a captivating surreal light that draws everything together. A truly magnificent “tale of all tales”, this book is a typographical masterpiece blending to perfection beautiful type faces with an unusual yet extraordinarily harmonious amalgam of delicate almost unsubstantiated hues.

The flowers illustrated in this book feature prominently in the accompanying text. Yet this incomparable series of illustrations - silent, intricately detailed portraits, realistic but at the same time exuding an arcane otherness – ensue from a deeper, seemingly impossible premise.  Not only a tribute to the magnificence of nature, they testify to the way life unfolds. The book takes up one of the oldest themes of children’s stories: the ineffable, mysterious magic of the flower fairies.  Rendering silence with colour, giving shape to the ephemeral, making all-too-short lives eternal: this is the illustrator’s ultimate aim.

A ship ploughs silently through a sea filling the page towards a library of images from the world of storytelling. Each plate is a universe unto itself, crying out to be drained of its narrative potential. The story comes alive in the vibrant contrasts and physical materiality of the colours. The small human figures depicted are the result of painstaking research as are the houses, tractors, countryside or warehouses. Work, nature and objects are all imbued with an elegance that harks back to the Japanese tradition. Yet the illustrator conveys many different periods, views of the world and mindsets. The book is a heartfelt tribute to the great history of illustration of which it is a very worthy part.

This book is a short elegant poem. It resounds with the silence beloved by Italian Metaphysical painters. Abstract geometrical forms are executed with pictorial mastery. Allusive constructions trigger philosophical dialogue with the figures. 16^th century trompe l’oeil allow us to peek into recesses and closed chambers. Everything in this remarkably different, unaffected book - gestures, dreams, memories and quotations – is imbued with a “vision of the world”. It is a vision as intense and rarefied as the interiors portrayed, and like them take time to contemplate and absorb.  Books like this one do honour to children’s literature. They demonstrate how Bachelard’s “Right to Dream” is made up of hard work, great clarity and exhaustive research.

Throughout its long history, children’s literature has always strived for a lasting alliance with Art. Examples are rare, but this book of one of them. Here a completely pictorial work becomes a story. The narrative flows in signs, highlighting, allusions, line-work and the mix of colours. It gives more than a nod to the Mexican murales.  The typography creates a rich narrative pace; the images have the evocative force of a written text. This is a rare achievement sustained by the illustrators’ passion for artistic excellence.

The admiration aroused by this book stems from an acknowledgement of our helplessness before the tidal wave of information thrown at us by the media. The result is a persistent fog that prevents us from seeing and understanding. Contradictions sit side by side and lies appears truth. Here, thanks to this story and these images, we finally know. The sorrow of a childhood thwarted by history, injustice and violence comes through clearly in illustrations that attain iconic stature for their ability to embody a situation, violence and denunciation. Faces censored by the media are here given a voice. These children speak for all those who are silenced. The book’s compositional harmony and poetic lend a solemn dignity to this tale of suffering.

The illustrator has rightly revisited the “Empire of Signs”, a key concept among pioneer scholars of mass communication. But it is an empire that can only be visited if you know your way through its myriad kingdoms. This book shows us prints and maps, ancient canvases and billboards, book illustrations and magazine covers, film posters and Epinal sheets. Put together with skill and irony but also with courage and a sense of responsibility towards its youthful public, the book is especially fun to read. The juxtaposition of elements is designed to entertain. We go from one artistic code to another, from the images of one civilization to another, from iconic figures to the present debacle of visual representation.  But we are heartened by the thought of how children will enjoy learning from this book as they read each new proclamation with the magical irony that is special to childhood.

The secretive, mysterious world of Hoffmann’s Tales epitomised what Freud termed "the Uncanny". This courageous series of illustrations fully captures that sense of unease before something familiar yet strange. Daniel Bueno’s graphic technique is an explicit homage to Max Ernst and his poetical use of collage. The artist covers all Hoffmann’s “mystery” themes to which he seems to hold the key. The mystery of the human condition is captured in skilfully assembled snippets, pointed shapes, references and allusions, echoing the countless references and irritating asides of the great storyteller. There is a vague sense of disconcertion, almost dismay as the narrative veers from everyday greyness to the mellifluous derision of magic. But Hoffmann truly seems to have shared with Daniel Bueno the hidden secret of his tales.

Special thanks must go to any publisher who decides to bring within the broad embrace of the “new horizons” someone like Chiara Carrer, whose exacting work is the result of painstaking research and passionate dedication to her art. This joyful book is fully in line with the artist’s constant search for renewal and commitment to an aesthetic of children’s literature that is always closely linked to Art. Disseminating work by Chiara Carrer is to help remove the absurd barriers between Art and books for children, barriers that forbade Paul Klee the right to dialogue with his child in his studio. For Chiara’s work has no confines or limits; it perpetually seeks new horizons.

Maskmaking is an ancient art form practised and developed by myriad peoples within their own cultural frameworks. Here Ghislain Herbéra re-visits, re-defines and re-composes these masks. The result is a bizarre yet learned “Human Museum” embracing the whole gamut of human expressions and behaviours. Indeed her book sounds a word of caution, drawing our attention to the fact that diversity is an integral part of what mankind is all about and that History is also an immense theatre staging a huge circus. Expressions, fears, smiles, apprehensions, jealousies and hesitations all have their rightful moments on this great yet small stage. Everything is human; everything deserves our consideration. No area is off-limits; no censure exists. Indeed the very variety of masks proves this is a never-ending process. Although not explicit, the book shows us that behind the mask there is always a face.

A highly ambitious book whose illustrator shows a keen sense of tradition and ability to re-elaborate. A refreshing abundance of floral themes is here harnessed to give form to rhythm and sound. Signs are lengthened and narrowed into a visual weave that echoes musical scores in an attempt to step outside the boundaries between one art form and another. The artist strives for that composite whole dear to the most audacious and ambitious avant-garde movements of many periods in the history of art. She is careful, however, to remain within the confines of literature for children. The series of leaves, trees, corollas, canopies and stalks all firmly belong to a “Child’s Garden”, home to the great fairytales and classics for children. Indeed the artist strives towards a poetic in the knowledge that the rhythms children understand are very close to the great musical scores.

Sustained by masterly graphic technique that has tapped into a wealth of cultures, the book tells its story as a child would: ready to take everything on board and assign it a place in a sort of “Dawn of Creation” world. Behind this light-hearted approach, however, lies the more serious attempt to rekindle and renew the age-old animal fables from Phaedrus and Aesop to La Fontaine. The stories also celebrate the city as seen through a child’s eyes: a graphic invention of multiple lines and intersections, bridges, trains and roads. The book is a light-hearted but serious tribute to the mystery of childhood perception in those years when everything is larger or smaller than life. It is as if, imbued with a sense of sheer happiness, the two artists had Gulliver by their side to show them the way.