THE NIGHT IS LIKE PAJAMAS

A bit of poetic thinking transforms the dark of nighttime.

A young, curly-haired child, with skin the color of the page, accompanied by a blue bird perched on their head, describes the dark apprehensively: “Sometimes, if I’m careless / it sneaks, soundless / through my old door lock.” This little person is vigilant and a bit anxious as night comes on: “The sun no longer warms me, / because it left without a trace.” Translated from Spanish, this poetic text, with its spare, slightly odd syntax, is set against full-page blue, gray, and black swaths of color; the art is equally simple but arresting, with the child, often outlined in white, popping against the black backdrop. As the enclosing dark starts to seem unbearable, the child huddled under blankets, a black raven appears at the window, boldly, directly contradicting the fear: “It’s not scary, ink, or a coat! The night is like pajamas!” The raven is an emphatic, all-black figure, shadowed against a blue, starry background overlaid with a whimsical pattern for sewing…pajamas! Now the child, stretching to attend to this new idea, transforms into the blue bird, emerging from a stripy pajama top, bursting into flight to announce this discovery to the city, the forest, and the ocean. The message is reassuring and, for the now cozily pajama-clad child, sleep-inducing. (This book was reviewed digitally.)

An artful ode to reframing one’s fears and getting comfortable with the dark.