A personal response to the animal illustrations of Jon Klassen

(Very often I say things in my head, and I think ‘huh, that’s interesting’. I think it’s my most authentic voice in there. Putting it into words feels phoney, stupid – that inner critic thing going on, asking why my opinion matters, who would want to listen? There’s also that element of being uncomfortable with the subjective when struggling with a sense of self-worth. There’s a risk to expressing an opinion based on nothing concrete or objective, so without a sense of self-worth to feel back onto, any view or opinion feels completely without merit, in fact it just feels down-right self-indulgent. I’ve always struggled with this. I could never spontaneously say what I’m about to write, so I am pleased I have this space, as a kind of practise in expressing myself, reminding myself that I am allowed to have a view).

Now to the real purpose of the post!

Jon Klassen is an author and illustrator I have admired for some time. I love his stories. I’m not ashamed to say that ‘We Found a Hat’ made me cry. ‘I Want My Hat Back’ had my brother and I in gasps and giggles in the book shop (don’t worry, I did buy the book after reading the whole thing twice in the shop).

Klassen recently shared on Twitter the above illustration of a deer in the moonlight.

I find this deer very cute. (This could be a very short blog post if I just left it there, simple as). The simplified form of the deer with the delicate line and shading of the trees around it; the slightly shy and curious sideways look – delightful.

I love this posture of the upright, highly alert deer. When I was designing ‘Oh, Brenda!’ the main pose I opted for was the highly-alert, tall neck, somewhere between surprise and alarm, accompanied by similar wide eyes to accentuate the sense of alert.

The eyes are Klassen’s trademark, seen on all his animals from the deer to the tortoise, from the bear to the rabbit.

This rabbit is very cynical and seems to be staring directly into my soul.

The look of the rabbit above is eerie to me. Isn’t it wonderful how a seemingly simple illustration can contain so much? The power is definitely in the eyes – the slightest shift in the eye shape or direction of the iris, combined with something like an elongated neck or long, leaning ears, can say so much about what the character is about. Just brilliant.

I imagine some people, especially children, may be more likely to find the rabbit funny – what a grump!, they might think. I guess it comes down to sensibility (perhaps related to age? which is why Klassen’s books are a hit with all ages). By the rabbit, I feel observed and judged. With the deer, I feel I want to throw my arms around that neck and know what it’s thinking about, then join it for a wonder through the woods.

As a fan of dystopian literature, I enjoy the dystopian feel to his illustrations, a bleak colour pallet. The dulled, neutralised world within which the creatures reside, so flat and still – what is the creature looking for? Why such a meaningful look (and how meaningful! Just two ovals with circles in them) in a meaningless world? I find myself imagining these creatures in a post-human world, having evolved some human emotions, expressed through the eyes, and they’re not particularly impressed by this new ability. In fact, they’re probably quite burdened by it, and aren’t we all? The world becoming greyer for them the more they can perceive what’s remaining of it.

Not sure. This could all be a load of rubbish and I should have stopped at ‘so cute!’ But I felt like exercising my self-expression and put words to the feelings I get from his illustrations. They tickle and amuse me greatly, and also seem to pull me into the neutralised world within which the creatures reside, to a place leaving me a little unnerved and sad.

As hard as it is to fathom, there are some people that don’t care or worry about the natural world. It seems they haven’t figured out that all we have comes from nature, we depend on it. As they care for the car that they depend on to get from A to B, should they not also care for the earth that sustains them? (An obvious point this should be).

This bear illustration makes me think of footage of polar bears struggling to find food – one of the most distressing scenes recorded in nature. The impact of climate change is stark in the Arctic with the plight of polar bears. It’s stark in towns and cities too, yet some people, if not caring about fellow humans, may need the plight of cuddly polar bears to sway them, otherwise there really is nothing that will.

Perhaps that’s the essence of why these illustrations move me so much. They’re animals, which I adore, in a bleak world, very relatable with the state of things right now. Do they know what’s happening, what has been done to them? They seem to. Do they blame us? They should.

In Jon Klassen’s books exists worlds where the fate of a hat-stealing rabbit is ambiguous and can therefore be a source of amusement for the reader. There’s nothing ambiguous about the state of the planet. The lack of concern and action from those in power is perhaps the most unnerving thing of all.

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