In a comment to the last post, Annie delivers a positive note (as she always does) that reminds me, as it should remind us all, that children's books have been in a continuous golden age since books were first published for children. For over a hundred years, children's literature has remained magical, entertaining, and ever delightful—resulting from illustrators and authors given nearly free rein to leap and cavort and shed inhibitions through an ever twisting and tumbling literary universe.
Demonstrating that is a random, serendipitous, example I pulled blindly from my digital archives of children's books—illustrations by Eric Kincaid:
Above and below: Eric Kincaid — A Children's Book of Verse
I need to drop the subject of a new golden age—for now—only because my deadlines are demanding my attention again. But I will be returning to my rants, and I won't just be yakking about it, I plan to do something about it. I have some plans for this year that I'm looking forward to telling you about soon enough.
Until then, for the time being, I'm back to posting random images here and there, with minimal text. That's more like it, sez you.