THE SNOWMAN

A little boy's winter dream, which could be anyone's--and might inspire many. In a sequence of wordless frames, sometimes as many as twelve to a page but opening up at one point to two expansive double-page spreads, a little boy spends a day making a showman--and a night, while his parents sleep, palling around with it. First the snowman comes inside the house, investigating light switches, kitchen faucets, the paper towel rack, Dad's closet, and other such everyday wonders; then he whooshes the child up and off, through a lovely haze of blown snow, past exotic skylines, and home again. The sequence starts irresistibly with a soft fall of flakes that look just right for packing or licking; Briggs gives the outsider's indoor adventure a warm, misty look and lots of quiet visual humor; and the later spin through the white night has a dreamlike quality that gives a proper shape to the whole--and something to remember next day when the snowman loses his.