I love illustrated books, its a love that was probably ingrained during bedtimes spent reading Dr. Seuss before I can even remember. I unashamedly hold The Grinch on par with A Christmas Carol for the ultimate Christmas classic and in fact, I've just realised that I can actually still recite most of the Lorax from memory.
But as all for those trippy drawings, the man was a genius! I mean, how amazing was Horton Hears a Who? and the Cat in the Hat - brilliantly mental.
However, at some point between reading Winnie the Pooh and Walden, illustrated books seem to have just fell off my radar, and save for my teenage obsession with Tim Burton and his The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. I must have, for the most part, forgot that books and art need not be separate things! Having said that, I probably remember every illustrated text I've ever read because of the illustrations, because they weren't just good for stories, they were beautiful objects too.
Anyway, the reason I've rediscovered my love for illustrated books is that I've notices one really good one floating around the office this week. Its called The Isobel Journal, and its written by Becky's youngest author, Isobel Harrop. I desperately want a copy. Though I'm conscious that making a good impression rarely constitutes any kind of stealing from the office.
Despite Isobel introducing herself as 'Just a Northern Girl from Where Nothing Really Happens', her journal is a sensitive and unapologetic self-portrait that reveals her to be so much more than that. Needless to say, I have a bit of a girl-crush on Isobel, which only intensified upon discovering that the place 'where nothing really happens' is actually very close to where I grew up. A published author at 18 (what the hell?!?) she's currently studying English and Philosophy at uni - not like I'm stalking her or anything, and still tweeting and blogging about her experiences of friendship, love and small hairy animals.
Isobel's scrapbook of words, drawings and collages has been pitched as a 'coming of age' story, and I suppose it is to an extent, but for me the book tells stories about being our age, in this age. Maybe its down to the adorable illustrations, or her downright honesty, but what I've learned from intreacting with her cult-ish fan base is that the Isobel Journal has that rare quality of inspiring its readers to be creative themselves.
But as all for those trippy drawings, the man was a genius! I mean, how amazing was Horton Hears a Who? and the Cat in the Hat - brilliantly mental.
However, at some point between reading Winnie the Pooh and Walden, illustrated books seem to have just fell off my radar, and save for my teenage obsession with Tim Burton and his The Melancholy Death of Oyster Boy and Other Stories. I must have, for the most part, forgot that books and art need not be separate things! Having said that, I probably remember every illustrated text I've ever read because of the illustrations, because they weren't just good for stories, they were beautiful objects too.
Anyway, the reason I've rediscovered my love for illustrated books is that I've notices one really good one floating around the office this week. Its called The Isobel Journal, and its written by Becky's youngest author, Isobel Harrop. I desperately want a copy. Though I'm conscious that making a good impression rarely constitutes any kind of stealing from the office.
Despite Isobel introducing herself as 'Just a Northern Girl from Where Nothing Really Happens', her journal is a sensitive and unapologetic self-portrait that reveals her to be so much more than that. Needless to say, I have a bit of a girl-crush on Isobel, which only intensified upon discovering that the place 'where nothing really happens' is actually very close to where I grew up. A published author at 18 (what the hell?!?) she's currently studying English and Philosophy at uni - not like I'm stalking her or anything, and still tweeting and blogging about her experiences of friendship, love and small hairy animals.
Isobel's scrapbook of words, drawings and collages has been pitched as a 'coming of age' story, and I suppose it is to an extent, but for me the book tells stories about being our age, in this age. Maybe its down to the adorable illustrations, or her downright honesty, but what I've learned from intreacting with her cult-ish fan base is that the Isobel Journal has that rare quality of inspiring its readers to be creative themselves.