The Joy of Reading Illustrated Classics
I remember when, years ago, looking for Dante’s Divine Comedy, I found myself choosing not recent editions with detailed and easy commentaries but a Barnes and Noble translation by American poet and educator Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) entirely devoid of footnotes. I didn’t mind going through the challenging Victorian English, and checking extra explanations online—thereby, extending my reading time by several months. The text was packaged in beautiful maroon and golden. It was leather-bound, with illustrations by French artist Gustave Doré (1832-1883). The adventure of going cover to cover on this particular volume has been an unparalleled literary experience for me. The epic poem was brought to life in a very real and tangible way by the masterful scenes—all executed with extraordinary imagination, care and precision. Doré’s black and white sketches of Hell, Purgatory and Heaven seemed like the stills of a movie. They greatly elevated the act of reading.
I have since discovered several artists and publishers dedicated to illustrating classics. With the mass-market production of newspapers, magazines and books, there was a Golden Age of Illustration (late 19th century to early 20th century) in both America and Europe. An important figure in printing technology was the Spanish-born French illustrator Daniel Vierge (1851-1904), who revolutionised the reproduction of illustrations. Numerous illustrators were subsequently able to develop rewarding careers. Children’s books and adventure novels with art became especially popular.
American painter N C Wyeth (1882-1945)—who illustrated 112 books—stands out. His most famous project is Treasure Island (1883) by Robert Louis Stevenson for the publishing house Charles Scribner’s Sons. The images he created convey intense energy and motion, dramatic light and shadow, and have turned out to be the most definitive visuals of the famous story. They make me want to pick up the book, which I read as a 10-year-old, again. Other books that Wyeth illustrated include Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe, The Mysterious Island by Jules Verne and Kidnapped by Charles Dickens.
Another fascinating find has been the Danish illustrator Kay Nielsen (1886-1957). His striking art on A Thousand and One Nights was released recently in an edition by Taschen. Nielsen also illustrated fairy tales by Hans Christian Anderson and the Brothers Grimm. He worked in theatre in Copenhagen and later at Disney in Hollywood.
Among publishers commissioning contemporary artists for classics both old and recent, the most prominent name is Folio Society, covering the span from Homer and Cicero to Charlotte Brontë and H P Lovecraft to Agatha Christie and Stephen King. I found their edition of George Orwell’s 1984 illustrated by London-based design studio La Boca very attractive. There are some books with so many layers of narrative that no imagery made for them can ever be ultimate. There are always more angles of perspective, more symbolism that may be employed to manifest the depths of meaning hidden between the lines. 1984 is one of such. The contemporary studio makes the dystopian tale from 1949 more immediate and relevant. They enhance the text with a mix of retro and contemporary design. Drawing upon the novel’s themes of doublethink and manipulation, the edition features elements like TV static pattern on the page edges and propaganda-style stickers. The controlled use of colours—mostly black, white, red and blue—suits the genre.
Illustrated classics add immense value to the worlds of both literary and visual arts, creating exciting opportunities for artists and enabling publishers to expand to new markets. But I also think that artists may use famous books that have stood the test of time and place to advance their careers independently, without waiting for publishing houses to approach them. For example, I discovered the Japanese artist Agameishi after her illustrations of the 11th- century Japanese classic The Tale of Genji by Murasaki Shikibu were circulated online. These were not part of any English-language translation of the book. I wonder if they had even first appeared in a Japanese version. I read that the artist had been working on them for years, and they helped her gain an audience. It seemed more like a personal project that ended up being noticed, opening up commercial possibilities. A gallery in New York exhibited a few of Agameishi’s brilliant illustrations.
Classics are well-known. People are already familiar with their characters and storylines—which means that they can use fewer cognitive resources to process any new subjective “fan” art that may be developed on them. If they like the art, they may be eager to share it, creating the likelihood of long-term virality leading to quicker recognition for the artist, and a variety of commission requests—from publishers and also individuals. I feel this is an underutilised marketing strategy. The good thing is that it is low in cost and can give substantial returns over time.
Written by Tulika Bahadur
