I have always been drawn to anything additional in a book. Not just footnotes (and only footnotes—endnotes are a punishment from the gods almost as maddening as in-line references), but any addition that extended the experience of the book's world: blurbs, 'about the author' paragraphs, the lists of books that used to appear in the backs of paperbacks, pressing you to add their other publications to your To Be Read pile.
Illustrations had the same sort of effect, they created a kind of hall of mirrors: reading the story created images, or impressions, and the illustration created another glimpse into the world, creating a depth, or a richness.
In my youth I preferred illustrations that, in effect, gave the impression of closing off the fictional world, defining it more precisely, adding to the story's single, representational meaning. I was not drawn so much to illustrations that seemed loose or inexact—Quentin Blake's work, for example—and it was only later that I had an appreciation of illustration that opens out the possibilities of the story, rather than closing them down.
So here, a little randomly as is appropriate, are some of the illustrations for which I have retained a great affection. A Flag for Camberwick Green is the first book I recall being given, by one of my siblings, and I was so delighted with it that I tried to eat it. It still has bite-marks. I was very young…
2. The Horse and His Boy
[Not the first Narnia book I read, but the first one that I bought.]
3. Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Illustrated Short Stories
4. The 13 Clocks
5. The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig
[This is the odd one out: all the others are childhood favourites, but this I bought as an adult. The three anxious little wolves are just lovely.]
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