WITCH HAZEL

Two friends tell stories and say goodbye.

Hazel, an older woman, and Hilda, a girl, share their lives—chores, tales, and more. In heavily sepia-tinted spreads, showers of glittery white illustrate the different stories that Hazel, clad in a pointy black hat, tells Hilda. As they sweep the steps and play piano, Hazel talks about her cat, her bird, and her youth as the “belle of the ball,” while these yarns are unraveled through white sparkles that coalesce into visions. Portraits on the wall of the ivy-covered house offer more clues. Eventually, Hazel takes to bed and then dies—a moment that is handled subtly, a story told “to the end” as a window goes from light to dark. Wiser readers will understand what is being conveyed, while younger or less experienced audiences may need that transition explained to them. The sentences aim for open-ended but too often land on vague, with ellipses carrying a bit too much weight. There are a lot of questions left: Is Hazel a witch, as the title implies, and if so, what, besides the hat, makes her one? Are Hazel and Hilda family or friends or neighbors? Will Hilda make a young friend of her own? Read aloud, this will invoke a quiet, peaceful mood but leave readers with some degree of dissatisfaction. Both characters have skin the color of the sepia pages. (This book was reviewed digitally.)

Calming yet unfinished.