Little Daughter of the Snow
Childless and sad, an old Russian man and his wife watch the village children playing in the snow. One day they decide to make their own little snow girl. Imagine their amazement when her eyes start to shine, her hair turns black and she comes alive! But, as Little Daughter of the Snow tells them, she isn't quite like other children: she plays outside all day and night, and eats ice porridge for breakfast. This poignant retelling of Arthur Ransome's classic Russian tale, with stylish illustrations by Tom Bower, carries a strong message about the true value of love.
- Paperback | 32 pages
- 233.68 x 271.78 x 5.08mm | 158.76g
- 04 Nov 2008
- Frances Lincoln Publishers Ltd
- Frances Lincoln Childrens Books
- London, United Kingdom
About Arthur Ransome
Arthur Ransome spent many of his childhood holidays in the Lake District. After working some years as a journalist, he visited Russia and became sympathetic to the cause of Leon Trotsky and the Russian Revolution. When he returned to England, he published a collection of 21 folk tales called Old Peter's Russian Tales, then embarked on a series of children's books known as the Swallows and Amazons series, based on children's holiday adventures in the Lake District. These became classics during his lifetime, and he received many awards for them, including the very first Carnegie Medal in 1936 for Pigeon Post. He died in 1967. Tom Bower studied art at the Central School of Art and Design and at Hornsey College of Art. He has taught technology and art in Oxfordshire for over 20 years and runs sculpture workshops. He has also exhibited his paintings and designed CD covers and theatre and film sets. As a musician, he plays everything from guitar and dulcimer to pipe, tabor, tin whistle and bouzouki, and has made six CDs with the band Magpie Lane.
A poignant and beautifully delivered retelling of Arthur Ransome's classic Russian tale about the true value of parental love. www.writeaway.org.uk Tom Bower provides delicate and colourful art while the words are bewitching. Birmingham Sunday Mercury