The Sorcerer's Apprentice

A retelling of the centuries-old tale follows Sylvia, a spirited girl apprenticed to a sorcerer, as she steals from his castle a powerful potion that she is sure will help her complete a difficult task.

This sophisticated collaboration from the creators of Pish, Posh Said Hieronymus Bosch reinvents a magical tale that is perhaps best known to young readers from Walt Disney's Fantasia. Willard's vivid rhyming text conjures up a fantasy world ruled by old Tottibo, a magician who "stood so tall his very shadow chilled them all." Red-haired Sylvia volunteers to be his new assistant and takes on the task of clothing every one of his creatures. From "bibs well-matched for baby dragons newly hatched" to "cloaks to clothe the lesser things," Sylvia has a daunting list of garments to sew, and can hardly be blamed for calling on a little magic to speed things up. However, when the newly enlivened sewing machine bares a set of gleaming steel teeth and takes to the air, magical mayhem ensues. The glee-filled text speeds along to a pleasing conclusion, stopping only to challenge the reader with an interesting word choice or image ("a famished stretch of sky"). Distilling the frenzied energy of the text, the Dillons' majestic artwork captures the story's essence and, with its quiet sheen, invokes the timelessness of fairy tales. All ages.
Copyright 1993 Reed Business Information, Inc.

In the spirit of Pish, Posh, Said Hieronymus Bosch (1991, ALA Notable), a reworking of a tale popularized, as explained here, by the poet Goethe as well as by Dukas, whose music fueled the Disney version. The apprentice Sylvia's task is to make garments for the Boschian menagerie of fantastical animals that live in the magician Tottibo's castle; the enchanted tool that erupts out of her control is a sewing machine. Willard's narrative is such an undisciplined cascade of verse that it rivals earlier versions' floods; though the language is musical, and the detail frequently witty, it's an outpouring in need of more judicious channeling. Still, the Dillons have good fun visualizing this torrent of description, slyly tucking faces into architectural details and creating an amusing gallery of mischievous grotesques; the gold-bordered art is rendered with their usual taste and skill. Not a landmark, despite the creators' credentials, but fun. (Picture book. 5-10) -- Copyright ©1993, Kirkus Associates, LP. All rights reserved.

Ages 6-10. The old story of the powerful magician and the awkward apprentice who messes with the magic has been told again and again from ancient Greece to Goethe to Disney's Fantasia. In this version for the 1990s, the apprentice-hero is a confident young woman. With long red hair, checked trousers, and high-heeled clogs, Sylvia comes riding up to the sorcerer's mountain on an old-fashioned large-wheeled bike. As in her 1982 Newbery Medal-winning A Visit to William Blake's Inn, Willard tells her story in lively rhyme that jumps with the unexpected. The Dillons' full-page watercolors, exquisitely drawn in meticulous detail, show domestic uproar just about to burst out of the tight gold frames. In fact, there are a few tiny spot illustrations outside the frame on each page. The sorcerer's house has 57 doors and "knockers made of gnashing teeth"; there are eyes everywhere, and his creatures are neurotic, brooding, sinister, and clownish. Words and pictures work together perfectly to make us see that chaos is "very near"; everything is in a state of transformation. The more you look, the more shapes change and slither and leap out as something different. The best scene of all shows the sorcerer ordering the dishes to wash each other ("The spoons leapt up and scrubbed the plates"). He's in control. In contrast, when Sylvia's task is to make clothes for all the creatures, she can't control anything. She's overwhelmed; even the scissors try to bite her hand. In desperation, she pours the sorcerer's potion on the sewing machine--and creates the wildest nightmare. The machine reveals its monstrous teeth: it bursts from the house and hems the trees; it stitches the mountains, snips the moon, bites the sun, until the sorcerer returns and order is restored. In a lovely last line, Willard gives the old cautionary tale a moral for today: Sylvia has learned to turn "failures into fairy tales." Hazel Rochman