Showing posts with label Raymond Briggs. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Raymond Briggs. Show all posts
Thursday, April 12, 2012
Fungus the Bogeyman --- from The Guardian
What I'm reading: Fungus the Bogeyman
Far more than a horribly enjoyable tale for children, this book is a masterpiece of complex nihilism.
Raymond Briggs's Fungus the Bogeyman is the current bedtime reading for my kids, and I'd forgotten what a rich, imaginative and complex philosophical work it is. Far from being a simple celebration of all things wet and slimy, Briggs' book creates an upside-down underworld where a gloomy nihilism is the order of the day, and with whose attitudes Briggs clearly has some sympathy. The book was first published in 1977 and has a definite punky, "no future", Sex Pistols quality.
The Bogeymen have something of the grumpy old man about them. They abhor anything new, and for that reason do not buy newspapers, but rather oldspapers. Posters on the walls advertise events long since passed.
It is an appealingly slow world. Bicycle tyres are filled with goo and sailboats are square-fronted to ensure slow sailing. Their games, such as pig-sticking and tiddlywinks, are non-competitive and can last for days. In Bogeyball, there is no cheering or shouting and the players glide dreamily around in the thick mud, with a grace, Briggs says, "which makes the fussy scrurrying around of Surface footballers appear slightly ridiculous". The purpose of angling is to avoid catching fish, and any Bogey who does so will retire shamefacedly to a bar.
Bogeys love sleep and the outdoors is dotted with dreamholes, whey they will retire for a nap. When their problems appear insurmountable, they simply retreat form the world and may go to sleep for up to a year in specially created graveyard-like zones called "interests".
The book masterfully combines a thorough anatomy of Bogeyworld with a meditation on the futility of existence. As Fungus moves slowly through his day (or, I should say, his night, since Bogeys are nocturnal), he is given to such reflections as "Not to reason why... not ask questions... just keep bogling away".
And that brings us to the vexed question of the Bogeyman's job: frightening humans. In the book, it is Bogeys like Fungus who spend their nights separating socks, kicking tiles off the roof, creaking the stairs and banging the dustbin lids. They also press their green fingers on the necks of sleeping humans in order to create boils. Why?
All of Briggs's work is great but I think Fungus is his masterpiece.
The Bogeymen have something of the grumpy old man about them. They abhor anything new, and for that reason do not buy newspapers, but rather oldspapers. Posters on the walls advertise events long since passed.
It is an appealingly slow world. Bicycle tyres are filled with goo and sailboats are square-fronted to ensure slow sailing. Their games, such as pig-sticking and tiddlywinks, are non-competitive and can last for days. In Bogeyball, there is no cheering or shouting and the players glide dreamily around in the thick mud, with a grace, Briggs says, "which makes the fussy scrurrying around of Surface footballers appear slightly ridiculous". The purpose of angling is to avoid catching fish, and any Bogey who does so will retire shamefacedly to a bar.
Bogeys love sleep and the outdoors is dotted with dreamholes, whey they will retire for a nap. When their problems appear insurmountable, they simply retreat form the world and may go to sleep for up to a year in specially created graveyard-like zones called "interests".
The book masterfully combines a thorough anatomy of Bogeyworld with a meditation on the futility of existence. As Fungus moves slowly through his day (or, I should say, his night, since Bogeys are nocturnal), he is given to such reflections as "Not to reason why... not ask questions... just keep bogling away".
And that brings us to the vexed question of the Bogeyman's job: frightening humans. In the book, it is Bogeys like Fungus who spend their nights separating socks, kicking tiles off the roof, creaking the stairs and banging the dustbin lids. They also press their green fingers on the necks of sleeping humans in order to create boils. Why?
All of Briggs's work is great but I think Fungus is his masterpiece.
Monday, December 19, 2011
More on The Snowman by Raymond Briggs
About The Snowman:
One winter morning a little boy named James wakes up to find that everything outside has turned snow-white. Overjoyed, James rushes downstairs and into the garden, where he begins to build a snowman. James sleeps fitfully, and at midnight he wakes up and decides to check on his snowman. He opens the back door... he can't believe his eyes... The snowman has come to life! James finds himself face to face with a smiling snowman, who with a polite doff of his hat introduces himself and marks the beginning of magical friendship and marvellous adventure
About Raymond Briggs:
Born in 1934 in London, Raymond left school at fifteen to study painting at the Wimbledon School of Art. He then studied typography at the Central School of Art and subsequently went on to study painting at the Slade School. When he graduated in 1957, he immediately started writing and illustrating, and in 1961 also began work as a part-time lecturer in illustration at Brighton Polytechnic. After a brief spell in advertising he then fully concentrated on writing and illustrating children's books. His first full-colour book of rhymes, Ring-A-Ring O'Roses, was published in 1962. Followed by Fee Fi Fo Fum (1964), The Mother Goose Treasury (1966), Jim and The Beanstalk (1970) and The Fairy Tale Treasury (1972). Evident from all these early books Raymond both writes and illustrates, he himself once said "the whole point of illustration is that it is literary. If it is not, it remains a drawing only". But it was in 1973, with the publication of Father Christmas that Raymond Briggs' unique and distinctive 'comic strip' style became established. Father Christmas was portrayed as a rather grumpy, discontented, and above all 'human' figure. However, it was very successful, and so was followed Father Christmas Goes on Holiday (1975). Raymond's other work includes Fungus The Bogeyman (1977), Gentleman Jim (1980) and the more adult, satire of nuclear war When The Wind Blows (1982). Raymond won the Francis Williams Award for Best Children's Book in 1982 with The Snowman. The Snowman written in 1982 has become a year-round favourite and one of the most popular Yuletide books ever published.Raymond is still writing prolifically, so keep an eye out for his latest releases.
Did you know that there is a stage show of The Snowman? For video clips and information, go to http://www.birmingham-rep.co.uk/about/snowman-home/
Did you know that there is a stage show of The Snowman? For video clips and information, go to http://www.birmingham-rep.co.uk/about/snowman-home/
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Anita Silvey on The Snowman by Raymond Briggs
When this time of year comes around, I always think of one of my favorite books first published in 1978, which truly captures the joy of playing in the snow. Although comic-book format picture books and graphic novels rule today, when Raymond Briggs used the wordless, comic-book format in The Snowman, he broke with the tradition of his time. However, the result was so magical than even adults who might have shunned comic books found themselves in love with his story.
In a book that works for preschoolers and those up to ten, a little boy awakes to find a snow-filled landscape and then goes out to build a snowman. But when the boy checks on his creation that night, it has come alive and tips its hat to the boy. Then the snowman enters the house, plays with the boy, and shares a meal with him. Finally, the two set off together on a magical flight that takes them over land and sea. In the morning, the boy goes out to find a melted snowman, an ending tinged with melancholy and loss.
As a boy, Raymond Briggs had always wanted to be a cartoonist. At fifteen, to pursue this dream, he became a student at the Wimbledon School of Art in London. Like other art students of the era, he received training in classical nineteenth-century composition, still-life and figure drawing. Eventually, he decided that he did not want to become a painter. However, when he finally returned to his childhood dream of making a comic book, he was able to bring all of his skills in draftsmanship, composition, and anatomy to The Snowman.
Although the landscape seems exotic, Briggs used his own home and garden in Sussex, at the foot of the South Downs, a few miles from Brighton. The snowman flies over the Downs to Brighton, and then the Royal Palace. Since Briggs wanted a feeling of childlike spontaneity in the drawings, he worked in pencil crayons to prepare the art. This media created a book with soft color, almost as if every page has been muted by the fallen snow.
The Snowman draws on the power of a persistent childhood fantasy—what if the snowman a child is building could come alive. This completely satisfying and moving book was adapted quite successfully as an animated film often shown on television during the holidays. As I checked this book out of the library recently, one young woman ran over and exclaimed, “I loved that book when I was a child!” Children still do. In The Snowman Raymond Briggs demonstrated how art alone, without any text, can convey a story that children delight in and remember.
In a book that works for preschoolers and those up to ten, a little boy awakes to find a snow-filled landscape and then goes out to build a snowman. But when the boy checks on his creation that night, it has come alive and tips its hat to the boy. Then the snowman enters the house, plays with the boy, and shares a meal with him. Finally, the two set off together on a magical flight that takes them over land and sea. In the morning, the boy goes out to find a melted snowman, an ending tinged with melancholy and loss.
As a boy, Raymond Briggs had always wanted to be a cartoonist. At fifteen, to pursue this dream, he became a student at the Wimbledon School of Art in London. Like other art students of the era, he received training in classical nineteenth-century composition, still-life and figure drawing. Eventually, he decided that he did not want to become a painter. However, when he finally returned to his childhood dream of making a comic book, he was able to bring all of his skills in draftsmanship, composition, and anatomy to The Snowman.
Although the landscape seems exotic, Briggs used his own home and garden in Sussex, at the foot of the South Downs, a few miles from Brighton. The snowman flies over the Downs to Brighton, and then the Royal Palace. Since Briggs wanted a feeling of childlike spontaneity in the drawings, he worked in pencil crayons to prepare the art. This media created a book with soft color, almost as if every page has been muted by the fallen snow.
The Snowman draws on the power of a persistent childhood fantasy—what if the snowman a child is building could come alive. This completely satisfying and moving book was adapted quite successfully as an animated film often shown on television during the holidays. As I checked this book out of the library recently, one young woman ran over and exclaimed, “I loved that book when I was a child!” Children still do. In The Snowman Raymond Briggs demonstrated how art alone, without any text, can convey a story that children delight in and remember.
Here’s a page from The Snowman:
Also recommended: Other books by Raymond Briggs: Father Christmas; Gentleman Jim
Originally posted December 23, 2010.
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