Robin and the Stick: A Picture Book by E.B. Goodale. Even the title is perfect: simple and quite serious. The pattern could be that of a Nobel Prize winning novel: Gustave and the Samovar: A Novel. And this picture book tackles a range quite as serious and quite as intense and evocative, with an artistry of quite as high level, as any in picture books. I say in picture books, because while I’d say this one has a literary mastery which matches much of literature, it adds the extra level of illustration, and I’m taking both into account.

I got the unusual pleasure of seeing an old librarian friend last week, so we performed the usual ritual of “Hello, it’s been forever! What books have you particularly liked lately?” I think it’s lovely we say “hello” before getting down to the real business. And the title we both started with was Robin and the Stick. This has been the single most frequently referenced book in my circles lately, but mostly by my own little boy. It is a simple and pure masterpiece, easy to read, and easy to reread, and in the tradition of every great picture book the final page turn leaves you simultaneously satisfied with the richness of the experience and lingering with further thoughts and a maelstrom of feelings.

The book has an extremely simple plot. Robin likes sticks, and finds one that’s too big to pick up. Eventually, Robin is able to pick it up and carry it home.

I have a particular passion for books not overburdened with plots and characters. Plot and character create unnecessary clutter. Robin and the Stick has absolutely no clutter. The art is created with monoprint and oil paints on Masa paper, all in textured black and white with red for Robin’s outfit, suiting the brightness of the character without overwhelming the scene. The elements are simple; the effect is deep and rich. Note: this is very hard. When a picture book creator limits the elements to such an extent, what they gain is room to develop and experiment, but there’s nothing to distract the reader, so, bluntly, they have no room to hide. There is no room for failure or it shows.

Here we have two characters, but Robin is the primary figure. The book is, in essence, a bildungsroman as Robin grows and matures and comes to terms with understanding and identifying what is a stick vs a branch, and how to relate to it, overcome it, and master it on its own terms. The secondary figure of the mother is going through her own developmental process, observing her child develop autonomous thought and abilities, and reconciling herself to the new state.

NB: We, as readers, are not told anything about Robin beyond Robin being a small human child, apparently toddler on the cusp of that indeterminate age every parent knows: bigger than toddler but we can’t really say big kid yet because we can’t. This gives the reader room. Robin is very real on the page, mind you, and a very true and complete child, but the limited elements allow us to fill in detail. In my head, Robin is about a 3-year-old boy because Robin is so clearly as my boy was. Every parent and teacher will fill in the inessential details with equal realism from their own experience, however.

The remarkable thing is that all of this comes so simply, so naturally. Robin’s mother has few lines: “Today you are the biggest you’ve ever been!” Robin is clearly pleased. Robin feels loved. But Robin doesn’t quite know what that means, but contentedly goes along playing and walking with Mama and collecting sticks from the big old tree that drops them on the ground. Until one day Robin finds the biggest, the best stick, on the ground. “Oh, honey,” said Mama, “that’s not a stick, that’s a branch!”

This is the big deal. Yet another opaque parental idea. What makes this not a stick? It’s on the ground like all the other sticks, and has come from a tree, and, ultimately, what makes a stick a stick? What makes a toddler a toddler or a child a child? What are these categories adults are obsessed with, so often dealing with size and growth, and why do they matter?

“It’s only a stick if you can pick it up off the ground. That is a BRANCH!”

Ah. That clears things up. And, as any parent knows… Do Not Set Boundaries You Do Not Want A Clever Child To Overcome. Thus we come to the final page turn– and I can only explain what I mean about the art doing so much of the work by sharing the moment:

Range, depth: here it all is. Robin’s pride in mastery and understanding. And what, exactly, is Robin’s mother thinking and feeling? Though I’ve experienced the moment myself, I still have no way of putting it fully into words. E.B. Goodale, however, captured it in pure, simple truth.

What a masterpiece.