The more picture books I read, the more I think people misunderstand them. In fact, I’m increasingly convinced that while some picture books are indeed cute little stories for children, some are profound pieces of art for all ages, told through a stylized integration of word and text.
Case in point, Brave Molly by Brooke Boynton-Hughes. This 2019 picture book is almost completely wordless: there’s the title, and Molly says “hi” at the end of the book, when she returns a lost/forgotten book to another kid.
That’s it. The rest of the story is told through images, and Boynton-Hughes does a lovely if disturbing job of showing Molly’s story in a way that brings it to life, though the book does not ever resolve some of my questions.
I assume the looming, shadowy figure is a symbolic embodiment of Molly’s anxiety, and it follows her everywhere, threatening her and making her forever uneasy. It follows her through urban settings, into the woods, and up a tree. But what about the other figures that join in to threaten Molly when she’s up the tree and after? Are her fears multiplying? Or are these actually spectral threats, something from adult horror?
Two things is clear: Molly’s fear is real, and these images made me feel anxious while reading.
A painful, lovely picture book.
