The House that Jack Built – Illustration Matters

In The House That Jack Built  (1954, 1982), every character is smiling, except a few chickens, the rat, and the dog. I’m referring to a Little Golden Book Classic. This book is a happy-go-lucky rendition of that familiar story in the public domain. With blueprints in hand, Jack builds a small house. As he stands on a ladder to hammer the roof, his tools are scattered on the ground. The cat chases a rat, sits in a tree to escape the dog, and smiles as the dog sails through the air (tossed by the cow). The man all tattered and torn serenades the maiden with his guitar as she stands blushing on the opposite page. The dog is beside them as they await the arrival of the priest riding up on his bicycle. On the last page, the man (all tattered and torn) and maiden are in the house living happily ever after.  I have the feeling that violence has no consequences, life is one happiness after another, and everything works out in the end. J. P. Miller’s cartoonish illustrations contribute to this message.

Randolph Caldecott’s illustrations (1879) look quite different. Jack has built a mansion. The cat kills the rat; it lies dead beneath the cat’s extended claws. The dog, teeth bared, has the cat up against a wall. After the cow tosses the dog, it’s sprawled dead beside someone digging its grave. The maiden sits alone on a stool in a large field with her head in her hands. She’s forlorn because, Caldecott shows us, she’s just watched the cow kill the dog. The cow has walked away; a bucket of milk rests nearby; and a man sneaks up behind her. His hands are raised slightly, and his expression reminds me of the cat as it stalked the rat.  In a subsequent drawing, the man (all tattered and torn) grabs the surprised maiden and kisses her mouth. Hence, I witness four attacks: the cat/rat, dog/cat, cow/dog, and man/maiden. On the last few pages we meet the priest and the farmer. The end.

Caldecott’s illustrations are qualitatively exquisite. His color pages are full of detail. His line drawings add personality to the characters. The rat peeks up from floor boards and reads a note on the floor–upside down–“4 measures of malt”. It stands on an overturned pot, alert, as if hearing something. On the opposite page stalks the cat. Its eyes are wide with anticipation, its claws extended, its stealthy movement implied by a low crouch and outstretched paw.  The enormous cow, with a full utter, plows toward the unsuspecting dog with a lightness that projects power. Caldecott’s sense of perspective has us believing there’s no way the dog could survive how high it flew into the air. I find the man all tattered and torn to be quite creepy. 

I’ve heard it said that good illustration adds content to the text. These two publications are such examples. What a difference 75 years makes.