The Lady of Shalott

In my post on The Highwayman I said how much I loved this Visions of Poetry series. In a half-dozen volumes they came up with beautiful and distinctive illustrations of famous short poems, ostensibly for kids but (much as I usually despise the crossover) equally enjoyable for old folks. One of the things they had going for them was that most of these popular poems were narrative ballads, and the artists lean in to the way that pictures also tell a story. Sometimes even a different story from what’s expected.

Tennyson’s “The Lady of Shalott” has been the inspiration of a lot of art, especially in its native nineteenth century. In this version by Geneviève Côté the setting is updated from medieval (or Pre-Raphaelite medieval) times to the same early-20^th century as Murray Kimber’s “The Highwayman.” Sir Lancelot doesn’t drive by on a motorcycle, but he’s not dressed in resplendent armour either and the streets of Camelot (Paris? Montreal?) have automobiles in them. As for the castle, its “Four gray walls, and four gray towers” are the Battersea Power Station. You get the picture.

Côté’s re-interpretation of the poem has a lot more to it than this though. Giving it a feminist slant is nothing new – the lady shut away in her domestic drudgery and solitude, dreaming of a (sexual) awakening – but it’s presented in a fashion that’s both subtle and sweeping here. Subtle in the way the lady holds herself, looking more than half sick of shadows. Sweeping in her transformation at the end into a butterfly released from the pod or cocoon of her boat. That seemed so original and inspired a visual motif that I had to wonder if it had ever been done before. If not, hats off to Côté for coming up with the idea.

You could, and should, linger over every illustration. They make you alert to things going on in the poem that you may not have noticed or at least not thought much about. I hadn’t imagined the barley reapers as figures of death, for example, but presented here dressed in black and with sunglasses and scythes, that’s clearly the effect. Then there’s the line “Out flew the web and floated wide.” That’s the web of her weaving coming undone, but how does that actually work? It’s still unclear, but you see it here in the fine lines of colour that swirl around the lady when the curse is come upon her. An image that is dramatically repeated in a shattered version of a frozen moment as the mirror cracks from side to side. And her face looking back over her shoulder (at us?) in the same illustration is remarkable. A really unforgettable image done with only a few lines and a bit of colour.

So another great little book. I’m so happy I picked up the whole series of these when they came out. I only wish they’d done more.

Graphicalex