The evacuation of Dunkirk? WW2? Death and sacrifice? What ever could these scenes have to do to with an illustrated children’s book about a bloody bird?
They act as the backdrop to the novella, The Snow Goose, a tale of tragedy, heroism and catharsis for children and their parents.
The story begins with a Canadian Snow Goose, later named Princess Perdue (lost princess), blowing onto the shores of Essex in the archetype of the, pardon the pun, duck out of water tale.
Barrett’s illustrations brilliantly capture the settings and shifting moods of the novella, as shining heroic acts usurp gloom and the morose.
Teenage girl Frith bears the eponymous Snow Goose, shot and wounded, to the lighthouse of the eerie recluse, Philip Rhayader, to be healed. The snow goose connects Rhayader and Frith, mythologising the former and creating a seasonal and unlikely friendship.
Rhayader is an erudite with the ornithological devotions of Sir Richard Attenborough and the physical being of Shakespeare’s Richard III.
Rhayader’s appearance is subject to great description to emphasise his status as an outcast. Stereotypically, his ugliness is an insurmountable barrier to others discovering a cultivated and caring person. Hence, he lives in a lighthouse, cultivates a wild bird sanctuary and devotes himself to the natural world, painting and sailing.
The wounded goose is a reflection of Rhayader, metaphorically and literally. An enduring friendship between fellow outcasts ensues. As the goose heals and flies again, Rhayader desires to reconnect with society, ultimately leading him to an act of heroism.
Frith is an uninteresting character; her maturation is hardly touched upon, until she is a woman and Rhayader’s affections for her create an impossible situation between them. The resolution to this issue is entangled with the evacuation of Dunkirk, a moment of revelation and bravery for Rhayader: “For once I can be a man and play my part.”
This speech is cathartic, and the most enjoyable and climactic part of the story even though it is unintended. The penultimate chapter is unnecessary as it comes across as a contrived outburst of love from Frith discordant with the absence of her character development. Her moment of catharsis is abrupt and received agnostically, making the novella lose momentum at its intended climax. This narrative error overshadows Rhayader’s heroics with a floundering of sentiment; expressed fast and desperately with the impetus of a young woman. What is a delightfully brief story attempts to end on a bang but fizzles instead.