Review: Picture Book - "The Story of Saint Brigid" by Clarke and Croatto

The Story of Saint Brigid by Caitriona Clarke, illustrated by Barbara Croatto, Veritas (2015), 23 pp..

This small, slender, and well produced picture book in one way resembles adult books about Saint Brigit more than most picture books: rather than telling a single, unfolding tale, it picks a number of items of information about the saint and briefly recounts them, opposite illustrations that highlight one of the items mentioned on each page. My limited experience with reading books to children suggests that this sort of thing is often of less interest than a gripping story line. Nevertheless there are times when this kind of thing is just the ticket, or is at least a pleasant way to learn a lesson—in this case, who is Saint Brigit? In this particular instance the book is aimed at Irish school children who will have heard often about her, perhaps even go to a school named for her, and so will be more inclined to be curious about the answer to that question than a child who hasn’t grown up knowing her name. Published by Veritas Publications, it comes from an unapologetically Catholic perspective.

I like the easy, conversational tone of the book, beginning with the first page, where Clarke addresses the child reading the book (or more likely having it read to them). “Have you ever heard of Saint Brigid? ... Maybe you have made a St Brigid’s Cross out of reeds? Maybe even your school is named after her!” This engages the child him- or herself, letting them know that this story is about their lives, too.

I was startled on the next page of text to learn of Saint Brigit’s mother that, “it is thought she was captured by pirates in Portugal and brought here as a slave—just like St Patrick …” I have never heard this before. I am more familiar with the suggestion that Broicseach was the daughter of Dalbrónach of the Dál Conchobair in County Meath. I am delighted to learn of another folk geneaology and would love to know where the idea started and how common the belief is in Ireland. In the fifteen hundred years since Saint Brigit’s birth there has been ample time for shifts in and additions to her stories, departures from the texts that I largely rely on for things like this.

I was also surprised to read that Brigit’s father, Dubhthach, had chosen to name his daughter after “the goddess of fire, who was thought to be gifted in poetry, healing, and craftsmanship.” Of course, there is no basis for this in any of the texts, but it is a neat way of connecting the two in the mind of the reader without supposing that they are the same person. This of course would get some backs up, but as I am of the opinion myself that they are not the same person, though they have grown together in our modern understanding, it doesn’t bother me at all, and I appreciate the nod to the goddess.

From this point on there are no surprises. We are told the familiar outline of Saint Brigit’s life, pared down drastically for the brevity of a picture book, and learn of the emphasis in her tales of generosity, compassion, and holiness. Her founding of a double monastery which was in time to produce great works like the (now lost) Book of Kildare is an addition which I favour, taking her out of the sweet holy girl category and placing her into the powerful efficient woman category—a good model for young people to be aware of.

We are told of the use of Saint Brigit’s Crosses in Irish homes for protection of people and animals against illness and their homes from fire, and of her holy wells in healing. There are some humorous elements, such as the expression of gobsmacked horror on the king’s face when Brigit’s cloak is spreading out over his land. The book concludes, “In her, Ireland can proudly lay claim to a wise and charitable woman who devoted her long life to the service of others.”

I have mixed feelings about the artwork that accompanies the text. Mostly, I like it. It is has a light touch which works well with the sparse, friendly writing. There are clean lines against colourful washes and a good sense of design, and there is, as mentioned above, a touch of humour in some of the images that appeals. What I don’t like, and this is purely a matter of taste, is how Croatta draws many of the human faces, which feel a bit awkward to me.

On balance, I like this book.

“Saint Bridget and the King's Wolf” by Abbie Farwell Brown (1900)

“Saint Bridget and the King's Wolf”

by Abbie Farwell Brown

EVERY one has heard of Bridget, the little girl saint of Ireland. Her name is almost as well known as that of Saint Patrick, who drove all the snakes from the Island. Saint Bridget had long golden hair; and she was very beautiful. Many wonderful things happened to her that are written in famous books. But I suspect that you never heard what she did about the King's Wolf. It is a queer story.

This is how it happened. The King of Ireland had a tame wolf which some hunters had caught for him when it was a wee baby. And this wolf ran around as it pleased in the King's park near the palace, and had a very good time. But one morning he got over the high wall which surrounded the park, and strayed a long distance from home, which was a foolish thing to do. For in those days wild wolves were hated and feared by the people, whose cattle they often stole; and if a man could kill a wicked wolf he thought himself a very smart fellow indeed. Moreover, the King himself had offered a prize to any man who should bring him a dead wolf. For he wanted his kingdom to be a peaceful, happy one, where the children could play in the woods all day without fear of big eyes or big teeth.

Of course you can guess what happened to the King's wolf? A big, silly country fellow was going along with his bow and arrows, when he saw a great brown beast leap over a hedge and dash into the meadow beyond. It was only the King's wolf running away from home and feeling very frisky because it was the first time that he had done such a thing. But the country fellow did not know all that.

"Aha!" he said to himself. "I'll soon have you, my fine wolf, and the King will give me a gold piece that will buy me a hat and a new suit of clothes for the holidays." And without stopping to think about it or to look closely at the wolf, who had the King's mark upon his ear, the fellow shot his arrow straight as a string. The King's wolf gave one great leap into the air and then fell dead on the grass, poor fellow.

The countryman was much pleased. He dragged his prize straight up to the King's palace and thumped on the gate.

"Open!" he cried. "Open to the valiant hunter who has shot a wolf for the King. Open, that I may go in to receive the reward."

So, very respectfully, they bade him enter; and the Lord Chamberlain escorted him before the King himself, who sat on a great red velvet throne in the Hall. In came the fellow, dragging after him by the tail the limp body of the King's wolf.

"What have we here?" growled the King, as the Lord Chamberlain made a low bow and pointed with his staff to the stranger. The King had a bad temper and did not like to receive callers in the morning. But the silly countryman was too vain of his great deed to notice the King's disagreeable frown.

"You have here a wolf, Sire," he said proudly. "I have shot for you a wolf, and I come to claim the promised reward."

But at this unlucky moment the King started up with an angry cry. He had noticed his mark on the wolf's right ear.

"Ho! Seize the villain!" he shouted to his soldiers. "He has slain my tame wolf; he has shot my pet! Away with him to prison; and to-morrow he dies."

It was useless for the poor man to scream and cry and try to explain that it was all a mistake. The King was furious. His wolf was killed, and the murderer must die.

In those days this was the way kings punished men who displeased them in any way. There were no delays; things happened very quickly. So they dragged the poor fellow off to a dark, damp dungeon and left him there howling and tearing his hair, wishing that wolves had never been saved from the flood by Noah and his Ark.

Now not far from this place little Saint Bridget lived. When she chose the beautiful spot for her home there were no houses near, only a great oak-tree, under which she built her little hut. It had but one room and the roof was covered with grass and straw. It seemed almost like a doll's playhouse, it was so small; and Bridget herself was like a big, golden-haired wax doll,—the prettiest doll you ever saw.

She was so beautiful and so good that people wanted to live near her, where they could see her sweet face often and hear her voice. When they found where she had built her cell, men came flocking from all the country round about with their wives and children and their household goods, their cows and pigs and chickens; and camping on the green grass under the great oak-tree they said, "We will live here, too, where Saint Bridget is."

So house after house was built, and a village grew up about her little cell; and for a name it had Kildare, which in Irish means "Cell of the Oak." Soon Kildare became so fashionable that even the King must have a palace and a park there. And it was in this park that the King's wolf had been killed.

Now Bridget knew the man who had shot the wolf, and when she heard into what terrible trouble he had fallen she was very sorry, for she was a kind-hearted little girl. She knew he was a silly fellow to shoot the tame wolf; but still it was all a mistake, and she thought he ought not to be punished so severely. She wished that she could do some- [6] thing to help him, to save him if possible. But this seemed difficult, for she knew what a bad temper the King had; and she also knew how proud he had been of that wolf. who was the only tame one in all the land.

Bridget called for her coachman with her chariot and pair of white horses, and started for the King's palace, wondering what she should do to satisfy the King and make him release the man who had meant to do no harm,

But lo and behold! as the horses galloped along over the Irish bogs of peat, Saint Bridget saw a great white shape racing towards her. At first she thought it was a dog. But no: no dog was as large as that. She soon saw that it was a wolf, with big eyes and with a red tongue lolling out of his mouth. At last he overtook the frightened horses, and with a flying leap came plump into the chariot where Bridget sat, and crouched at her feet, quietly as a dog would. He was no tame wolf, but a wild one, who had never before felt a human being's hand upon him. Yet he let Bridget pat and stroke him, and say nice things into his great ear. And he kept perfectly still by her side until the chariot rumbled up to the gate of the palace.

Then Bridget held out her hand and called to him; and the great white beast followed her quietly through the gate and up the stair and down the long hall until they stood before the red-velvet throne, where the King sat looking stern and sulky.

They must have been a strange-looking pair, the little maiden in her green gown with her golden hair falling like a shower down to her knees; and the huge white wolf standing up almost as tall as she, his yellow eyes glaring fiercely about, and his red tongue panting. Bridget laid her hand gently on the beast's head which was close to her shoulder, and bowed to the King. The King only sat and stared, he was so surprised at the sight; but Bridget took that as a permission to speak.

"You have lost your tame wolf, O King," she said. "But I have brought you a better. There is no other tame wolf in all the land, now yours is dead. But look at this one! There is no white wolf to be found anywhere, and he is both tame and white. I have tamed him, my King. I, a little maiden, have tamed him so that he is gentle as you see. Look, I can pull his big ears and he will not snarl. Look, I can put my little hand into his great red mouth, and he will not bite. Sire, I give him to you. Spare me then the life of the poor, silly man who unwittingly killed your beast. Give his stupid life to me in exchange for this dear, amiable wolf," and she smiled pleadingly.

The King sat staring first at the great white beast, wonderfully pleased with the look of him, then at the beautiful maiden whose blue eyes looked so wistfully at him. And he was wonderfully pleased with the look of them, too. Then he bade her tell him the whole story, how she had come by the creature, and when, and where. Now when she had finished he first whistled in surprise, then he laughed. That was a good sign,—he was wonderfully pleased with Saint Bridget's story, also. It was so strange a thing for the King to laugh in the morning that the Chamberlain nearly fainted from surprise; and Bridget felt sure that she had won her prayer. Never had the King been seen in such a good humor. For he was a vain man, and it pleased him mightily to think of owning all for himself this huge beast, whose like was not in all the land, and whose story was so marvelous.

And when Bridget looked at him so beseechingly, he could not refuse those sweet blue eyes the request which they made, for fear of seeing them fill with tears. So, as Bridget begged, he pardoned the countryman, and gave his life to Bridget, ordering his soldiers to set him free from prison. Then when she had thanked the King very sweetly, she bade the wolf lie down beside the red velvet throne, and thenceforth be faithful and kind to his new master. And with one last pat upon his shaggy head, she left the wolf and hurried out to take away the silly countryman in her chariot, before the King should have time to change his mind.

The man was very happy and grateful. But she gave him a stern lecture on the way home, advising him not to be so hasty and so wasty next time.

"Sirrah Stupid," she said as she set him down by his cottage gate, "better not kill at all than take the lives of poor tame creatures.  I have saved your life this once, but next time you will have to suffer. Remember, it is better that two wicked wolves escape than that one kind beast be killed. We cannot afford to lose our friendly beasts, Master Stupid. We can better afford to lose a blundering fellow like you." And she drove away to her cell under the oak, leaving the silly man to think over what she had said, and to feel much ashamed.

But the King's new wolf lived happily ever after in the palace park; and Bridget came often to see him, so that he had no time to grow homesick or lonesome.

Source: The Book of Saints and Friendly Beasts by Abbie Farwell Brown (1900).  Chapter One.

Image: Illustrated by Fanny Y. Cory

Found on The Baldwin Project site. This work is in the public domain.

Children's Book Review: “Brigid and the Butter” by Love and Stott

Review Brigid and the Butter: A Legend about Saint Brigid of Ireland 
  by Pamela Love (author) and Apryl Stott (illustrator) (2017) 
  Pauline Books and Media. 
  30 pp. For children ages 5-8 years.

What a delightful picture book! I was pleased when I learned of its existence. I have read, reviewed, and enjoyed three other picture books about Brigit so I looked forward to discovering another person’s—or rather pair of persons’—perspective on her young life. I was not disappointed.

Brigid and the Butter is the first Catholic offering I’ve encountered in the Saint Brigit picture book genre, which have included one specifically Orthodox book and two that tell the saint’s tales from an “Irish Legends” perspective and from an almost magical perspective in which young Saint Brigit goes to Bethlehem to help out Joseph and Mary in the birth of Jesus. (For my review of these books please go here.)

In Brigid and the Butter the first thing I notice of course is the art of Apryl Stott. The cover shows a comely, open-faced young girl with a bowl of butter, cattle in the pasture behind her, and a painted framework round the whole that mixes Irish knotwork with another style of art inlaid into it—beautiful though a little out of keeping with the setting. Flipping through the book without reading, to get an idea of the flow of the story and to steep in Stott’s imagery, I grew more excited—her paintings are rich and generous and well designed, and even the non-reader is quickly drawn into a land where there are great cattle looming over us, finely arching thistles growing up along a page, and an earnest young girl caring for the cattle and setting to work making butter.

I have few criticisms of Stott’s lovely work, apart from a neglect of research into the times depicted. The hut, for instance, looks like something from a different land (England, perhaps?), unlike what would be expected in Iron Age Ireland, when Brigid lived. The cattle would be at home in a modern cowyard but are not the native cattle of Ireland—and so on. Those elements, if done correctly, would have added to the charm of the book and its usefulness in teaching children about 5^th century Ireland, but even as it is, the art is outstanding and supports the story of the book very well.

Pamela Love has drawn together a number of elements to tell a story that is both entertaining and educational, mostly in terms of its spiritual teachings. The child who reads the book will learn a little of what life was like for a youngster in Brigid’s time, for instance that children were expected to work independently and hard (potentially dangerous work, too, if you check out the size of and the horns on those critters). She handles a herd of animals much larger than herself, caring for them in many ways, and does the exhausting work of making butter from their milk. Butter comes from milk?! From a cow?! Amazing! And this is how it’s done. By hand?!

Add to this that the girl is briefly mentioned to be a slave. It may come as news to a child that Irish children have ever been slaves—in our uneven coverage of the topic we have tended to give the impression that only African people were ever captured as slaves, but of course slavery exists even today and has been an important and legal part of many cultures all across the world. This mention might give a teacher or parent an opportunity to talk to a child about slavery. But it is not explored in the book, and indeed if you forget that one introductory line you may think from the following story that Brigid and her mum lived unmolested on their own in a pretty, well equipped house and had a good herd of cows. You would notice, though, that they seem to have very little to eat.

And that is the crux of the story. Hard-working Brigid churns the butter and comes up with only a little for herself and her mother (who we never meet). There is no mention that most of the churnings and indeed most of the milk would have gone to the master; the impression is that only a teeny bit of produce comes from all that work, and I can only assume this is to simplify the story, but I do think it leaves it a little bit unanchored. If we saw that the results of Brigid’s hard work were mostly carted away and then she was left with only a little there would be a stronger impact—although even the smallness of the butter is a literary device, as there is no indication in Brigid’s Lives that she and her mother were poorly fed, only that they were hard-worked. No matter, a small opportunity lost but possibly needless clutter avoided.

So, back to the crux of the story, which is that with only a small amount of food for herself and her mother, Brigid is faced with a situation where someone with even less has asked for help, and she must decide what to do. An elderly, skinny woman comes to the door asking for food. Brigid offers to let her wait for her mum to return, saying she might bring food and they could share it with her, but the woman is in a hurry. Brigid says all they have is butter, with nothing to put it on, and the old woman gets a look of longing and says how much she loves butter and how it’s been ages since she’s tasted it.

Earlier in the story Brigid has heard Saint Patrick tell the story of the loaves and fishes. In it a young child brings a tiny offering of bread and fish, all he has, to Jesus, and Jesus makes of it enough to feed a great crowd. Brigid thinks of this when considering what to do with the butter. She and her mother had eaten nothing all day and she had been looking forward to tucking into the butter, whether her mother brought other food back with her or not. Now she was faced with the difficult choice of preventing a hungry woman from finding enough food to carry on and facing that deepening hunger herself. Her instinct is to be inviting and generous, but her feeling of self-preservation makes her reluctant to just give it all away.

Suddenly she understands that “helping others could be difficult”. What had seemed like a nice idea in the story was actually a hard reality in day to day life. She has a little conversation in her head with Jesus, a kind of natural prayer where she acknowledges that unlike him, she isn’t able to feed thousands, but that she can help the one person right in front of her. Thus, the elderly woman walks happily away, all the butter and even the bowl tucked nicely in her bag. Brigid is a little worried that her mother will be upset, and she asks Jesus to provide for them so that they, too, will have something to eat.

As was nearly always the case in the Lives of Brigid when she has acted in this fashion, her generosity ends up not being as costly as it at first appears it will. She turns back to the table and there two bowls of butter stand, each more full than the original. The young girl who has taken a risk with her own and her mother’s bellies in order to help someone else is rewarded with enough food for several days, and gives thanks.

I like how gently and humanly this story is told. There is no hectoring, no sense that she was a bad girl even to think of not giving, but that this was a difficult life decision that each of us faces—in fact we face such decisions thousands of times in our lives. Will we be generous today? Will we reserve enough for ourselves? What makes sense in any given situation? The complexities of such ethical decisions aren’t gone into here, nor should they, but the beginning of the conversation is opened up. The idea is put before a child that even when we ourselves have very little, we are capable of giving, capable of helping someone else, and that we might consider this when faced with a decision of whether or not to give help.

I like that Brigid and the Butter can be read as it is and enjoyed quite simply, with no pressure to have big heavy Teaching Discussions, or can become the starting off place for several different conversations, then or later, round the dinner table perhaps, on the different kinds of responsibilities children face, on slavery, on miracles, on generosity, on taking care of ourselves and our own families, on cattle rearing and making butter, or on the Biblical stories referred to in the text. (A family that is into history might even look into whether or not Saint Patrick and Saint Brigit could ever actually have met, as they were said to have done in some of her later Lives.)

The story is followed by a portrait of the grownup Brigid and a few paragraphs about her later life, and then by a short prayer to Saint Brigid:

“Saint Brigid, you gave food to someone who was hungry although your stomach was also empty. I want to be generous, too. Pray for me so that, like you, I may do what I can to help others. Help me to care for people in need, even when it isn’t easy. Amen.”

A prayer we could most of us benefit by.

The book ends with writeups and photos of the author and illustrator but also, wonderfully, of the Catholic Sisters who run Pauline Books and Media, as well as a brief catalogue of some of their children’s books. I am left with the sense of a very joyful and loving group of women, and I am well pleased that I have this book.

For a sneak peek into the first few pages of the book, follow this link.

For a review by a Catholic father of three (so you can get the kids’ response, and not just some fusty old adult’s), check out Steven R. MacEvoy’s blog.

Children's Books about Saint Brigid

Fox Leaping Through a Hoop Made from Brigit's Skirt - by Caroline Cory

I will confess right off the top that I have found these links online but have not actually seen any of the books. What a plethora compared to just a few years ago! And the ones I knew (see my reviews in the pages links above) are not even among them.

Holy cow. (As it were.)

The Truth About St Brigid - By the pupils of Saint Brigid’s School for children with special needs in Mullingar. (There is a video of the book, and all proceeds go to buying a bus for the school. If they haven't got it already - it's been a year since the posting.

				The Truth About St Brigid Did you know that Saint Brigid, Ireland's foremost female holy person, liked to drink tea whilst eating chips? Or that the King Of Leinster was so amazing that his ...
				View on www.broadsheet.ie	Preview by Yahoo

Holy Crocodile!: Taming Foxes -- The story of Brigit and two foxes feature in one chapter of Cory's book about saints and animals.

				Holy Crocodile!: Taming Foxes In the story of St. Brigid and the Fox, there are two semi-tame foxes -- one is the king's pet, who is killed by a woodsman. The other is St. Brigid's fox.
				View on carolinecory.blogspot...	Preview by Yahoo

 Shower of Roses: Celebrating the Saints :: St. Brigid of Ireland -- This one is a blog posting that features different books and a personal story of her daughter's love for Saint Brigit.

				Shower of Roses: Celebrating the Saints :: St. Brigid of... Between the conversation with my daughter and the new painting I was inspired to try and do a little something extra to celebrate St. Brigid's feast day after all.
				View on showerofroses.blogsp...	Preview by Yahoo

Saint Brigid and the King's Wolf  -- by Rhode Island art educator and illustrator, Mary Kane Hendrickson.

Saint Brigid the Fearless - In a Nutshell -- from Poolbeg's "In A Nutshell" series.

The Story of Saint Brigid -- by Catriona Clarke

Dumb St. Brigit Joke

Knowing well my affection for the sacred woman, my niece told me a joke about St. Brigit that she got out of a book I gave the family years ago in the hopes of bestowing a cultural blessing of some sort.

The book is The Cut-throat Celts from the Horrible Histories series by Terry Deary and illustrated by the lovely Martin Brown.

Now, I don't have the book in front of me, so I have to give you my niece's version, but I suspect it's close.

Q: Why is Saint Brigit like a lonely teacher?

A: Because she only has one pupil.

Thanks, FJ!

Brigit Reviews (Series One): Picture Books

Picture books:

St. Brigid’s Cloak, Reg Keating. Illustrated by Heather McKay. (1997)

Brigid’s Cloak: An Ancient Irish Story, Bryce Milligan. (2002)

The Life of Saint Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, Jane Meyer. (2009)

First off: we have here three good, saint-oriented Brigidine picture books. Now we need some goddess-oriented ones.

It isn’t surprising we have three saintly versions and none focussed on the goddess aspects of Brigit. Among other things, there is an abundance of saintly stories and the goddess lore for Brigit is thin on the ground. Nevertheless, without it we have only half the story. I would like to see a picture book that addresses the triple Brigit, maybe even one that tackles both sides, Pagan and Christian, in a positive and simple way. There’s your gauntlet, writerly and painterly folk. (And when you do it, please send me a copy to review!)

The present books are quite different from each other in terms of both artwork and writing, but they do have a number of things in common. Interestingly, from among the many, many stories related to Brigit, stories of her cloak, in one form or another, figure in all three books. When you consider the pithiness necessary in a picture book, the brevity of the text which allows only a few aspects to be explored, it is perhaps surprising that the cloak figures in all three, though admittedly the cloak stories are among the most well known in her vitae. The cloak is a main focus in the first two, and more or less a footnote in the latest, by Jane Meyer.

St. Brigid’s Cloak, Reg Keating. Illustrated by Heather McKay. Tarantula Books, Dublin, Ireland (1997)

The first, St. Brigid’s Cloak by Reg Keating, is the smallest, shortest, and least elaborate in every way. Heather McKay's illustrations have a humorous, energetic style with simple, bold lines and Adobe Illustrator-type colour-pattern infills. The style is well-suited to Keating’s direct, simple, playful text and the underlying humour of the story.

The focus is narrow—after quickly giving us an idea of Brigit’s early life and desire to serve God, Keating tells a medieval tale of Brigit’s miraculous cloak. In this story, Brigit tricks a stingy king into giving her ample valuable land to build her monastery on by asking for merely as much as her cloak would cover, only to have the cloak grow enormously once on the ground.

This book is not written to entice children to holiness. It simply tells a fine and funny traditional story about someone who happens to be a saint and rather holy herself. It certainly doesn’t try to persuade against living a holy or moral life, and she is indeed presented as someone who works hard to do good, but that’s not the point. If anything, Brigit’s independence and cleverness are the important thing here.

By contrast, the two later books are more self-consciously Christian, and much more developed.

Brigid’s Cloak: An Ancient Irish Story, Bryce Milligan. Illustrated by Helen Cann. Eerdmans Books For Young Readers, USA and UK (2002)

Brigid’s Cloak: An Ancient Irish Story, by Bryce Milligan, is a beautifully illustrated, textured book aimed at somewhat older children than Keating’s audience. In it we go beyond the bare facts of Brigit’s life to hear the wild winds of fifteen centuries ago, to huddle in a cold hut outside her father’s hill fort, to hear the stars singing and see a Druid in the forest, come to prophesy about Brigit’s life.

Brigit’s magically noted birth is followed in time by her vision (as in Norah Kelly's play based on the Scottish folk tale¹) of being in Palestine. There she plays the role of the daughter of the innkeeper who shelters Joseph and Mary, and helps Mary with Jesus’s birth. The story of her cloak, in this case given by the Druid, is not the one where she tricks the King of Leinster into giving her lands, but the one where she lends her now shabby cloak to Mary, who is shivering as she lies in labour, and who returns it beautifully renewed. The story is centered on Christ’s birth, though inspired by Brigit’s devotion and generosity.

Milligan’s writing is subtle and often beautiful, and his tale touches on many evocative details that inspire a sense of wonder. There is an attempt at verisimilitude in the drawings of ancient Irish and Palestinian dwellings and dress, and the book closes with a page devoted to historical information about Brigit and her cloak. Helen Cann’s paintings are delicious, with subtle shades of colour that match the subtlety of the writing, and with energy, balance, and magic.

The Life of Saint Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, Jane Meyer. Illustrated by Zachary Lynch. Conciliar Press, Ben Lomond, California, USA (2009)

The Life of Saint Brigid, Abbess of Kildare, by Jane Meyer, is perhaps the most joyfully religious of the three books. Published by Conciliar Press Ministries and written and illustrated by members of the Orthodox Church, it is intended to share the story of Brigit’s generosity and devotion to others and to God, and to inspire similar love and compassion in the children who read it.

Meyer ranges farther in her treatment of Brigit than the previous two authors, telling more about her young life, including her penchant for miracles associated with milk and butter and including a prayer she uttered to God to bless her pantry, which led to such abundance. She then follows Brigit through her life, touching on a few brief, important moments, such as her father’s attempt to sell her to the King who would one day inadvertently supply the land for her first monastery, her refusal to marry (somewhat dodging, though alluding to, the self-mutilation that convinced her family to let her off the matrimonial hook), her peripatetic ways and the resulting monasteries she founded across Ireland. She ends the book with an “Irish Rune of Hospitality”, a brief prayer that we may follow Brigit’s example, and the “Kontakion of Saint Brigid”: a prayer about and to Saint Brigit.

Zachary Lynch’s rough and ready iconographic illustrations are perfectly suited to the text. A playfully reimagined cow from a medieval Irish manuscript, Celtic knotwork gone mad with colour, Brigit with a hint of Theotokas in her face—there is much to delight the mind and eye in these pages.

My only complaint about this last book is the Celtic typeface used for the main text. If, as an adult who has been reading for many years, I have occasional difficulty making out a letter and therefore a word, I can only suppose that a young reader might find such a typeface one more obstacle on the rocky road to reading. But since with picture books of this complexity you generally have an adult reading to a child, perhaps it isn’t that much of a problem.

Okay now, Pagani. Get out your pens and paints and come up with some equally impressive Pagan counterparts to these three books. Ready, set—go!

1 A version of this folk tale is found in the the Carmina Gadelica, a collection of stories, prayers, etc collected by Alexander Carmichael in the Scottish Highlands between 1855 and 1910.