A Fond Review of Barbara Berger's Grandfather Twilight
From first page to last, the ink and illustrations of Barbara Berger gleam with a subtle yet constant luminescence in Grandfather Twilight. If a children’s story could be described as a necklace, with each sparely-worded line woven to perfectly pair with artwork, this book beads together just such a sparkling strand of syllables and brush strokes.
Berger’s pearlescent work was published in 1984 by Scholastic and the quiet bedtime tale has always been a treasured part of my earliest childhood memories! In essence, Grandfather Twilight is the coming of night personified in a mythic, but mellow old man who lives in a forest.
And by forest dweller, I mean that the emerald foliage of the trees form his only walls. Perhaps his own existence is inseparably interlaced in their living presence, too? Nature is his beloved companion, with an inquisitive bird, fluffy cat, and friendly dog accompanying him at various stages of the tale.
For every evening, he completes the same routine—sets down his reading, combs his misty beard, and rises from his armchair to begin a singular task. My favorite part comes next . . . imagine the curious wonder of turning the page, and encountering a huge wooden chest with a lock opened by an antique golden key!
From this mysterious chest, Grandfather Twilight reveals an “endless strand of pearls,” all heaped together in one glorious, glowing tangle. Oh, I could bask in the loveliness of this single page for ages. But we, dear readers, have a pilgrimage to complete with our calm and patient guide—
Berger pens, “He lifts the strand, takes one pearl from it, and closes the chest again.”
Now we know we are about to embark on a fantastical journey, too! For with this lone pearl in hand, Grandfather Twilight takes a stroll through the sanctum of the forest. With each step, the tiny gem in his hand grows just a bit bigger. As this nacreous orb increases in size, “Leaves begin to whisper. Little birds hush” (Berger).
Human tongues hush, too, our gaze soaking in unutterable beauty as words vanish entirely for three consecutive panels as the art seeps over every inch of paper.
As the pearl’s hue and height grows in the majesty of moonlight, the old man’s misty hair trails behind him in a canvas of gloaming sky and cloud. We follow Grandfather Twilight all the way through the forest, past a stream, to the edge of the ocean where heaven and sea mingle into one shimmering horizon. Here, at last, he uplifts the precious lunar jewel to its rightful setting—
“Gently, he gives the pearl to the silence above the sea” (Berger).
There is such a deep relief inked into that keen line! For how many times in our own life have we wished to give away the day’s pain and toil to such a glimmering silence, and just . . . rest?
His task done, Grandfather Twilight takes his peace. In the ease of evening, he returns home and sleeps in a comfy bed with his furry animal friends close by. The covers reflect a serene blue sky with puffy clouds and a hint of pink at the hem—perhaps the nascent dream of sunrise?
~*~
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