The Snowman — 20th Anniversary Edition

The Snowman — 20th Anniversary Edition

By Raymond Briggs (Hamish Hamilton)
ISBN 10: 0-24113-938-4 ISBN 13: 978-0-24113-938-7

This edition was released to commemorate twenty years since the release of the perennial children’s favourite in 1978, so with the 30th anniversary swiftly bearing down on us it’s a good time to re-examine this wonderful book, free of the huge ancillary industry that’s grown around it, strictly in terms of graphic narrative.

Despite being repackaged as numerous book spin-offs, the animated film and even a stage musical, The Snowman started as a slim (32 pages) picture book: A lyrical tale of forgotten winter joy. I can’t remember seeing enough snow to even confuse my cat (if you’ve never seen the pampered house-moggy’s first response to solid-seeming-cold- wet-white-stuff then you’ve never laughed so hard the cocoa came out of your nose) let alone coat the world in a clean blanket of wonder, but that’s what happens here.

This is a subtle and compelling story. A young boy awakens to a heavy snowfall. Dressing, he dashes outside and romps among the falling flakes. He spends all day building a snowman, and even when he he’s snugly back inside, he can’t stop looking at his magnificent creation. Happy and exhausted he goes to bed.

When everybody’s asleep he invites the now animate snowman indoors where they play, share a meal, and naturally, do the washing up when they’ve finished. Outside the skies are clear and the white flakes no longer fill the heavens. Having seen the boy’s world, the Snowman offers to show his own, and the pair soar aloft on a wondrous voyage over land and sea where the snows are falling still.

Returning home they say goodnight. The boy goes reluctantly back to bed and the frosty sentinel takes up his abandoned position in the garden. In the morning the boy dashes out, but only heartbreak and disappointment await, for the new morning has melted his midnight companion.

This truly beautiful tale is no cheery, mawkish fantasy; it is an examination of the intense nature of a child’s life and the poignancy of change. We never know if the adventure was simply a dream or an actuality, but the knowledge that such all-encompassing wonder is fleeting is a lesson we all learn as we grow. The ability to recapture such a lesson – both its joys and its pains – is a rare and awesome thing, and what a tribute to Raymond Brigg’s abilities that we don’t hate him for making us enjoy re-experiencing it.

Utterly wordless, in panels without dark borders and hard edges, Briggs spins a delicate web of magic. Using the child’s own creative tools of pencil and crayon he crafts lyrical pastel picture-poems that are truly evocative and spellbinding. Despite being co-opted by the Christmas Industry this isn’t merely a seasonal tale but a timeless one. There’s no Bright Red or Holly Green to dazzle and break this charm: Briggs, as always uses presentiment and understatement as his basic tools.

Our industry seems to wilfully neglect this creator whose graphic narratives have reached more hearts and minds than Spider-Man, The Spirit or Hellblazer ever will, yet his works remain among the most powerful and important in the entire field. The Snowman, despite my pompous pontificating, remains a work of sublime and simple universal beauty. Get it for your kids, get it for yourself, but when the cartoon comes on again this Christmas, don’t watch that, Read This.

© 1978 Raymond Briggs. All Rights Reserved.