THE BEAR AND THE WILDCAT

A single sympathetic soul can make all the difference.

Bear’s friend, a little bird, is dead to begin with. There is no doubt whatsoever about that. Yesterday he was alive, and now he is not. Bear constructs a lovely box, places the bird in it, and carries it everywhere, but the other animals disapprove. “It may be hard but you have to forget about him.” Upon hearing this, Bear shuts himself away for days. When he emerges, he meets a wildcat, who hears his story, acknowledges that he must have loved his friend, and, by playing music, helps Bear to heal. This lyrical, unconventionally beautiful Japanese import reveals text both spare and superbly polished (“His downy feathers were the colour of coral and his tiny black beak gleamed like onyx”). Black images appear on the page as if they were scrubbed away from the surrounding beige, like relief paintings released from their claustrophobic borders. The sole other color, pink, is revealed only after Bear allows himself to remember the good times with his friend. As he finds himself able to let go, the pink infuses the flowers on a grave and in the field and a ribbon on a tambourine that Bear at last learns to play. (This book was reviewed digitally; this review has been updated for factual accuracy.)

Quietly contemplative, mingling hope and healing, this is a book that will offer comfort to many.