Occasionally, one happens upon a book that resonates hard, impacts deep and lingers on. Sketchby Jacques Goldstyn is one such book; a picture book for older readers that speaks to those that feel contrary to the norm. And in a month where I seem to be happily adrift on a sea of art-infused books, Sketch is a tale that sits satisfyingly among them.
Sketch is born to parents whose hearts are compassionate and wise. From the outset, he wasn’t quite like other babies despite everything being anatomically ‘normal’, he wasn’t drawn quite like anyone else. His parents didn’t care, loving and nourishing his energetic joie de vivre and wild exuberance along with his deep-seated love of art.
It is this passion however that further distances Sketch from his more ordinary contemporaries. Sketch lives in a town that is orderly, plain and depressingly practical. His divergent way of thinking and drawing simply does not correlate with such boundaries which is bearable until Sketch progresses to school. This is where Sketch’s singularity really shines. Sadly, most fail to appreciate Sketch’s latent luminosity, all except Madame Beauregard, his art teacher. How fortunate is the child who is recognised by that one person who sees them for all their magnificent worths rather than their lesser differences?
Madame Beauregard’s overriding message is to persevere. And persevere Sketch does, all the way through his occasional loneliness into High School thanks to his parents’ unremitting love, chocolate-hazelnut cookies and his omnipresent cat to cuddle. Until one day, while sketching thoughts as the world around him surrender theirs to other peoples’ on tiny boxes with glowing screens, Sketch encounters a group of extraordinary kids doing extraordinary things. And because they are drawn different, like him, there is instant camaraderie and understanding. Sketch has never known such shared mutual joy. Their unrestrained flow of creativity fills Sketch in a way he has never felt or appeared before. But how can he convince his new-found friends to stay and champion a world that shuns uniqueness in favour of the security of uniformity?
Despite a larger than normal page (88) and word count, it is easy to get swept up in the beautiful momentum of Sketch’s story. It truly is a tale of perseverance one that reveals itself quietly, page by page, but with thundering acuity. Each pencil line and brush stroke is an ode to diversity and aptitude, artistry and unfettered flair. It’s also an artful testimony for rejecting compliancy in favour of individuality, especially if you are drawn that way in the first place.
Goldstyn’s cartoon-esque illustrations are conspicuous in their subtlety, portraying Sketch as an almost invisible, see-through image throughout; a marvellous comic contradiction to his brimming-with-life personality. Smudges of colour emphasis the jollier moments in his life, another adroit contrast to the sepia tones of the town in which he lives. The endpapers encapsulate the heart of this story; the true colours of life and love are in all of us; we just need a little help revealing them.
That sort of revelation can take a lifetime. Fortunately, we have stories like Sketch to help us fill in the lines along the way. Highly recommended reading both in classroom settings and quietly at home curled up with your cat.
Dimity Powell is an Australian author and reviewer whose books include Oswald Messweather, and At the End of Holyrood Lane. Her latest book is The Boy Who Lost His Laugh.
