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The King has Goat Ears
by Katarina Jovanovic
This picture book that draws on Serbian folklore tells an amusing story that occasionally feels like a twist on the emperor's clothes but then veers away into its own distinct territory. It is the story of a king, an accepting young barber, and eternal issues of truth versus tact, negative versus positive perceptions, and self-acceptance. "King Boyan never left his palace," begins the text. "Every time he needed a haircut a new barber was summoned. That barber was never seen again." Much is understated in this text, giving the lively pictures room to move and grow the story. A moment of pure delight occurs when the last barber in the kingdom, Miro, summoned to the palace, "turned as white as shaving cream and fainted dead away." It falls to Igor, Miro's young apprentice, to take on the job of the king's haircut. Igor's tact gains him freedom but now he holds the king's secret, which he cannot keep to himself. This turn of story is so perfectly childlike
that by the time he does shout it into a hole in the ground, and a plant grows out of that hole, and the reeds on that plant are made into flutes, the story has taken on an inevitable energy of its own. Beha's illustrations are jeweled renditions that manage to be laugh-out-loud funny. The mixed-media collage with its outrageous profiles and bright splashes of color are riveting, guiding the eye unerringly through the pages of this book. The little parrot featured in all but four spreads forms a pictorial subplot of its own. Gleaming gold frames house portraits, mostly of the king, although the Mona Lisa makes a cameo appearance in Igor's confession scene. If there is one thing that is not quite in place it is the king's change of heart. We see it only in the end and only because he explains it. A little foreshadowing might have helped the story achieve perfect fluidity. In all, there is much that is magically appealing in this generously sized and
beautiful book. --Reviewer: Uma Krishnaswami, Children's Literature
BCTLA book reviews
King Boyan is so insecure about his unusual ears that he refuses to let
barbers leave the palace for fear of gossip. After banishing all of
the trained hair cutters, a young apprentice is recruited. Sensitive
to the King’s concerns, Igor coifs the royal’s hair and doesn’t mention
his ears at all. The King is satisfied with Igor’s answer to “How do
I look?”, and sends the boy home. Burdened by the weight of keeping
such a big secret,
Igor digs a deep hole and yells at the top of his lungs: “the king has
goat ears!” As the days go by long reeds grow up out of the hole.
Shepherds who make flutes out of the reeds discover that their
instruments speak the buried secret.
On the day of the May
Fair, the King’s carriage is greeted by the reed flute’s inappropriate
song. The King surprises everyone by revealing his secret and thanks
Igor for helping him to “start liking myself”.
Philippe Beha’s
striking oil paintings are accented by a collage of fabric swatches and
photographs. Dozens of cut-out eyes surround the carriage scene to
great effect. Although some readers may question the King’s sudden
change of heart, this is a good addition to folk and fairytale
collections.
--Resource Links October 08
Jovanovic's debut adapts a Serbian variant of a King Midas story,
placing the emphasis on acceptance. Because of his self-consciousness
about his unusual goat-ears, shut-in King Boyan engages a new barber for
each haircut, imprisoning the previous ones. Apprentice Igor volunteers
to barber the King and-apparently unlike his predecessors-seems
unperturbed by those ears. Allowed to come and go between village and
palace, Igor shouts his secret into a hole in the meadow, where a bit of
botanical magic (reeds embodying the revelatory words grow from the
hole) results in flutes that only play the titular sentence. Shepherds
sell the flutes at the May Fair, which Igor has convinced the king to
attend. All ends well, and Jovanovic's clear telling elucidates the
detailed plot. Kids might question the logic, though: If one barber
could be detained at the palace, why would the king need to employ a
succession of them? Igor knows all about the reeds and flutes, though
neither text nor pictures reveal how. Beha's mixed-media collages
brightly blend photographic elements, Chagall-esque, white-faced figures
and waxy layers of color. Sadly, there is no source note. -- Kirkus review, 09/15/2008
CM, Volume XV Number 2, September 12, 2008
Have you ever had a secret that you knew you shouldn’t share, but the burden of keeping silent was so great you just had to let it out? This is the struggle that Igor, the young apprentice of Miro (the only barber left in the kingdom), experiences after he cuts King Boyan’s hair, astutely responds to the king that his prominent, goat ears “look just fine,” and, with these assuring words, wins his freedom as the first barber not permanently confined to the palace after cutting the king’s hair. Released back to his village, it is not Igor’s intention to betray the king’s secret to his subjects. And so, in a creative turn that draws upon an ancient Serbian folktale, author Katarina Jovanovic (who now resides in Vancouver but who worked for many years in children’s programming for Serbian radio) relieves Igor of the burden of his secret by having him dig a hole in a meadow, shout his secret into it, and cover up the hole again.
Unbeknownst to Igor, it is magic that releases the king’s buried secret. From the hole in the field into which Igor has shouted his secret grow long reeds that shepherds grazing their flocks turn into reed flutes. But these are no ordinary flutes! They are strange flutes that sing: “The king has goat ears! The king has goat ears!” Surely this can’t be good for Igor.
Having secured the reclusive king’s confidence, Igor returns to the palace whenever the king needs a haircut. As he cuts the king’s hair, he entertains the curious king with stories about life in his kingdom. The king, growing increasingly comfortable with his appearance, decides to act on Igor’s suggestion that he attend the upcoming May Fair. A young boy in the crowd has purchased one of the strange, singing flutes and, just as the king’s carriage drives by him on the fairgrounds, the flute begins to sing: “The king has goat ears!” “The king has goat ears!” Will the king’s guards capture the boy? What will happen to Igor?
Readers will have to read the story themselves to find out (although, they can take comfort in knowing that The King Has Goat Ears stays true to the folktale genre). The king undergoes a transformation and comes to appreciate a universal truth – we need to like ourselves just as we are.
At a time when Canadian society and schools are becoming vastly more diverse, this retelling of a Serbian folktale weaves another cultural thread into the rich fabric of Canadian children’s literature. The story’s message of self-acceptance will contribute to family and classroom dialogue about caring about our own uniqueness as a first step to appreciating and valuing the plurality around us.
While this is Katarina Jovanovic’s first book for children, the liveliness, humour, and detail of her writing – “Miro turned as white as shaving cream and fainted dead away” — reveal her varied experiences as a writer, teacher, journalist and award-winning poet.
The story is also told in an imaginative, active and dramatic way through the illustrations created by Moroccan-born and long-time Montreal resident Philipe Béha. A portrait of the unhappy looking king with his goat ears hidden from view opens the story, and the story closes with a portrait of the smiling king with his ears fully exposed. There is so much movement in the illustrations that, as a reader, I felt as if I were watching a stage play being performed in front of my eyes. The use of mixed media and side-views of characters are signature marks of Béha’s numerous and award-winning children’s books. I laughed out loud at the collage image of Igor’s coiffure and the many collage eyes “glued to the page” where the king’s ears are first revealed to his subjects at the May Fair. Children will delight in following the parrot that joins in the action from one illustration to the next.
This is an ageless folktale that will joyfully engage today’s young readers while offering a worthy but not heavy-handed moral.
Highly Recommended.
Wayne Serebrin is a professor of Language and Literacy and Early Years Education in the Faculty of Education, the University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, MB. |
