But then, looniness is Joyce’s brier patch. Artistically a match for N. C. Wyeth and Howard Pyle, the 34-year-old author-illustrator has produced a series of 12 books-four of which he wrote himself-including the already classic “Dinosaur Bob” and “A Day With Wilbur Robinson.” Droll and unfailingly good natured, they are as much about childhood as they are for children. Once you enter Joyce’s world, you’ll never want to leave.
Plainly he has no such plans, no matter how loony he finds his line of work. A new book, the lovely Bently & Egg (HarperCollins. $15), is just out. Full of talking animals antiquely attired and done in soft, Easter-basket colors, “Bently” is every bit the equal of Joyce’s earlier successes. In the works are a sequel to “Dinosaur Bob,” a book about Santa Claus and the script for a live-action version of “Wilbur " to be produced by Disney.
Joyce has been making up stories and illustrating them since he was 9, when he entertained his Shreveport, La., peers with a tale called “Billy’s Booger, “about “a boy who sneezes up this highly intelligent little snotty man.” All grown up, he sits in a studio “just down the street from where I swang from a rope swing when I was 6,” meticulously rendering “the goofiest musings of my childhood.”
With his way-back machine stuck somewhere in the deco ’30s, Joyce delivers a world where houses are always huge, “because everything is enormous when you’re a child. " Where moms and dads wear heels and pearls and neckties and vests, but where children get to stay up past bedtime. It’s a world stocked with helpful robots, banjo-strumming crickets and pet dinosaurs that play baseball, all portrayed in the rich, “slightly dreamy” tones of the Technicolor movies Joyce grew up watching on television, a medium that influenced him every bit as much as Maxfield Parrish, Winsor McCay or Maurice Sendak. In his work, as in the world of the tube, “nothing goes away, nothing dies.”
Joyce’s new book is superficially a departure from all that. Inspired by the pastel palettes of Beatrix Potter and Robert Lawson, it chronicles the arduous efforts of a frog, Bently Hopperton, who is determined to rescue his friend Kack Kacks duck egg from the clutches of a loutish boy. “Bently " is Joyce’s most personal book. The frog, like his creator, loves to draw. And his transformation from indifferent to devoted guardian of the egg is plainly the work of a man with impending fatherhood on his mind.
But for all its sweetness, “Bently"is every bit as zestful as its predecessors. Commandeering a hot-air balloon, sailing a toy boat, crashing a garden party, Bently is never at a loss. Jubilantly resourceful, he has a swell time being a hero.
Reading Joyce is like hanging out with that slightly raffish uncle who came to town a couple of times a year, the one who drank martinis and wore spectator shoes and always kept a few cherry bombs at the bottom of his suitcase. He was the guy who taught you that fun is the most important thing you can have.
Likewise, the lessons Joyce’s books teach are “about the recuperative, regenerative powers of goofing off and having a goodtime.“He’s revolted by the pressures on today’s kids to prepare relentlessly for adulthood. “It’s turned childhood into a job,” he says. “Now they’re talking about making school last all year. They want to take summers away.” These efforts, he’s convinced, are ruinous. “My nephews, they’re about 10, " he says, “and I had to teach them how to blow things up.”
Illustration: Talking animals antiquely attired: Joyce’s zestful book bows nimbly to tradition
title: “Make Room For Bently” ShowToc: true date: “2023-01-30” author: “Cornell Katz”
But then, looniness is Joyce’s brier patch. Artistically a match for N. C. Wyeth and Howard Pyle, the 34-year-old author-illustrator has produced a series of 12 books-four of which he wrote himself-including the already classic “Dinosaur Bob” and “A Day With Wilbur Robinson.” Droll and unfailingly good natured, they are as much about childhood as they are for children. Once you enter Joyce’s world, you’ll never want to leave.
Plainly he has no such plans, no matter how loony he finds his line of work. A new book, the lovely Bently & Egg (HarperCollins. $15), is just out. Full of talking animals antiquely attired and done in soft, Easter-basket colors, “Bently” is every bit the equal of Joyce’s earlier successes. In the works are a sequel to “Dinosaur Bob,” a book about Santa Claus and the script for a live-action version of “Wilbur " to be produced by Disney.
Joyce has been making up stories and illustrating them since he was 9, when he entertained his Shreveport, La., peers with a tale called “Billy’s Booger, “about “a boy who sneezes up this highly intelligent little snotty man.” All grown up, he sits in a studio “just down the street from where I swang from a rope swing when I was 6,” meticulously rendering “the goofiest musings of my childhood.”
With his way-back machine stuck somewhere in the deco ’30s, Joyce delivers a world where houses are always huge, “because everything is enormous when you’re a child. " Where moms and dads wear heels and pearls and neckties and vests, but where children get to stay up past bedtime. It’s a world stocked with helpful robots, banjo-strumming crickets and pet dinosaurs that play baseball, all portrayed in the rich, “slightly dreamy” tones of the Technicolor movies Joyce grew up watching on television, a medium that influenced him every bit as much as Maxfield Parrish, Winsor McCay or Maurice Sendak. In his work, as in the world of the tube, “nothing goes away, nothing dies.”
Joyce’s new book is superficially a departure from all that. Inspired by the pastel palettes of Beatrix Potter and Robert Lawson, it chronicles the arduous efforts of a frog, Bently Hopperton, who is determined to rescue his friend Kack Kacks duck egg from the clutches of a loutish boy. “Bently " is Joyce’s most personal book. The frog, like his creator, loves to draw. And his transformation from indifferent to devoted guardian of the egg is plainly the work of a man with impending fatherhood on his mind.
But for all its sweetness, “Bently"is every bit as zestful as its predecessors. Commandeering a hot-air balloon, sailing a toy boat, crashing a garden party, Bently is never at a loss. Jubilantly resourceful, he has a swell time being a hero.
Reading Joyce is like hanging out with that slightly raffish uncle who came to town a couple of times a year, the one who drank martinis and wore spectator shoes and always kept a few cherry bombs at the bottom of his suitcase. He was the guy who taught you that fun is the most important thing you can have.
Likewise, the lessons Joyce’s books teach are “about the recuperative, regenerative powers of goofing off and having a goodtime.“He’s revolted by the pressures on today’s kids to prepare relentlessly for adulthood. “It’s turned childhood into a job,” he says. “Now they’re talking about making school last all year. They want to take summers away.” These efforts, he’s convinced, are ruinous. “My nephews, they’re about 10, " he says, “and I had to teach them how to blow things up.”
Illustration: Talking animals antiquely attired: Joyce’s zestful book bows nimbly to tradition
