Farmer Fred's Cow
By Margaret Wild & David Waller
ABC Books $25.95 0733307639

Where Willy Went
By Nicholas Allan
Hutchinson $29.95 0091892953

Rosy and Jack
By Nicole Reading
Innovative Resources $37.95 0958018820

Margaret Wild’s picture books have often been mistakenly described as always being about death. While some of her most moving books have been about death—Toby, Jenny Angel, Old Pig—she’s by no means a one trick pony. Consider her shamefully overlooked tale in traditional form, Robber Girl; the exuberance of last year’s Baby Boomsticks; and the dark and remarkable fable Fox. Having said that, when the subject arises, Wild—Australia’s best picture book author, bar none—handles death with a frank compassion that goes beyond mere sensitivity. Wild’s new book Farmer Fred’s Cow, illustrated by David Waller, tells the simple story of Farmer Fred and his four old animals, Cow, Horse, Pig and Donkey. The animals are at the end of their productive lives, and so, by implication, is Farmer Fred.

“I’m going to die soon,” Cow told Horse and Pig and Donkey.
“We know,” they said.
“I’ve never been anywhere, never seen anything.” Said Cow. “Just this farm, just these fields.”
“When you die,” said Pig, “you will grow wings and you will fly over mountains, over rivers, over the sea. You will go everywhere and see everything.”
“What rubbish!” said Horse. “Farmer Fred will bury you here, and here you will stay, and that is that.”

There’s never a word, nor a syllable astray in a Wild story. Cow does die, just as she said, but she comes back to show to her friends that she has indeed grown wings, and that now she can go everywhere and see everything. It’s a moment of delight and liberation for them all, and for the reader. This beautiful text is given gentle, aged life by Waller’s acrylic and pencil illustrations. Waller’s palette moves from the scorched-out greens and browns of an Australian farm to warm, deep night hues when Cow comes back one last time. Waller draws Wild’s characters with affection and respect, and the winged Cow and other animals are never farcical. A completely satisfying book from start to finish.

Down at the other end of the life cycle we have wicked English author/illustrator Nicholas Allan’s Where Willy Went. Nicholas handles apparently unlikely topics—Cinderella’s Bum, The Queen’s Knicker’s, Jesus’ Day Off—with humour and aplomb, and I’ve found myself thoroughly enjoying his books almost against my better judgement. The aforementioned Willy is a sperm, and the story revolves around the great race to get from inside Mr Browne to Mrs Browne’s egg. There’s a schoolyard bully, Butch, Willy has to contend with (and beat), and the fact that he’s not very good at maths. But Willy is a great swimmer, and we’re never in any doubt who will win this race.

Yes, there’s nudity, and its refreshingly uncoy and at the same time understated and inoffensive (unless, of course, you wish to be offended). The sex scene is discreet: we see a yellow blanket covering what is apparently Mr and Mrs Browne in bed, and the text reads That very night Mr and Mrs Browne joined together. The end result is baby Edna, who when she goes to school will find out she’s not very good at maths, but she’s a great swimmer.

Children who already know the facts of life will enjoy the humour of this story and its warm and funny cartoon-style illustrations. There’s surprisingly a lot to pour over—sperm land looks like a jolly place to live, with its cinema and swimming pool, and there’s a fabulous “Where’s Willy?” spread as the sperm race along to get to the egg. I am not sure that the diagram showing where the sperm need to travel will help out children who aren’t au fait with the mechanics; Mrs Browne’s dissected anatomy is very odd-looking. In any case, it’s probably a book parents will want to share with their children, at least on the first few readings, to clear up any such misunderstandings. After that, let them giggle over it alone.

Sadly, along the way between Willy and growing after-life wings, some children’s lives are not as easy and happy as we suspect Edna’s will be. Bibliotherapy is popular with some adults as a way of helping children through difficult experiences. I have children’s literature friends in the US who were deeply troubled by a rush to find books to help children through the trauma of the September 11 attacks; my colleagues, many of them teachers and some of them clinical therapists, were very concerned that this approach may only enhance the trauma; almost like rubbing their faces in it. I’ve known parents ask for books with kids with a broken leg, because their child has a broken leg (“not the left leg, the right leg!”), as if reading about it will make it heal faster.

Nevertheless, I think there can be a place for the judicious use of books when working with children in need, and so I applaud St Luke’s Anglicare for their new initiative in publishing Rosy and Jack, written and illustrated by Nicole Reading. The book begins:

Rosy and Jack were scared. Someone was touching them in ways they did not like.

This book is purpose written and illustrated to work with child sexual assault victims. It is designed to encourage conversations about trust, “bad secrets”, expressing all one’s emotions, and healing. The language is straightforward and the illustrations—deliberately childish—encourage recognition and a sense of safety. As such, and without any experience in counselling such children, it seems to me that Rosy and Jack will be an extremely useful tool. It’s in many ways a guide for children as to what to do about disclosing abuse, and what to do to deal with their feelings afterwards. I’m not sure it’s a book that I’d give out willy nilly to children, but on the other hand, should a child be suffering in silence and come across this book in their school library, it may make all the difference to them. It’s not literature, in the way a Margaret Wild book always is, and it’s certainly not the light-hearted romp that is Willy, but Rosy and Jack has its own important place to fill.