The story begins cryptically with a flock of angels, who seem to be guardian angels, flying to earth. The angels care for people. The focus then zooms onto one angel. It is overcome, perhaps by humans’ destructive impact on the world, perhaps weakened by its own selflessness. Has it freely traded its life force or soul for others, or has it been a victim? It becomes transparent, weak, marginalised, before becoming invisible. Eventually, after being covered in leaves and snow and placed on a pedestal as a statue, it is rescued by a disparate group of humans and animals. The rich illustrative text brims with symbols and possible interpretations. Who are the Unforgotten to whom homage is paid: angels, humans, or something else? Are they unforgotten because of their own, or others’, destruction or love? How should we ensure that they are not forgotten?

The angels appear as stilted figures, as if they are out of place or static ‘stills’ from an animation. They look to have been drawn, then ‘cut out’ or scanned and superimposed onto collage, including time-worn daguerreotypes, and photographic and digitally created background scenes. When an angel is mirrored in a puddle or seen through a window, a less comic and more ethereal effect is created. When the angel protagonist wanes, it casts shadows instead of light; a negative rather than positive image, representing its fragile state. ‘Like a thought hard to hold’, the angels come, reflected by clouds. The illustrations are all framed in black, perhaps symbolising man’s despoliation of Earth. Their frames’ blurred edges may suggest the encroaching darkness or physical and spiritual battle. The heavenly realms and the city are juxtaposed by the clouds and the smoke of pollution. Perhaps the train station is the threshold between these places, and the park the in-between, liminal space. The city is universal, with people and buildings from different countries and times. At times it is surreal. Unforgotten is a complex, momentous book.

The city is also an alien setting in Anna Walker’s Peggy (Scholastic, $24.99 hb, 29 pp, 9781742832708). Aimed at much younger readers than is the case with Unforgotten, it relates the initially sanguine outlook of Peggy, a black hen that is blown off her trampoline and transported to the city. Far from home, she embraces new experiences, then tries to find her way back. This story advocates a positive attitude towards both adventure and dilemma, and is embedded with themes of friendship and home.

Many of the illustrations are full- or double-page spreads, but space is also used strategically to show details of Peggy’s activities in framed panels. Unframed panels, or vignettes, of Peggy’s experiences in the city suggest an unfettered freedom that contrasts with the secure, ordered panels of her country life. Peggy is finally brought safely home by the pigeons, her life enriched by her new friends and the possibilities of future trips.

Small creatures, part of the plot and themes of Peggy, are even more important in Graeme Base’s Little Elephants (Viking, $29.95 hb, 39 pp, 9780670076475). These titular creatures transform a moving story, about a boy and his mother who are trying to save their wheat farm, into an imaginative fantasy. The magic is foreshadowed by the camouflaged figure of a circus ringmaster who observes Jim release his mouse far from home. Jim’s subsequent generosity towards the man may be the catalyst for a wondrous scene in Jim’s bedroom. A scuffling noise under the bed becomes a ‘flock’ (a suitably apt and evocative collective noun for elephants here) of miniature elephants. Their silhouettes, delineated in light colours, create an atmospheric contrast with the dim surrounds. Not content with infusing fantasy into his story, Base also integrates science fiction in the form of predatory locusts. A futuristic impression of a broken harvester presages the sci-fi. The author–illustrator blends and juggles his speculative fiction elements within the realism of the setting and predicament with ease. Or is Jim’s imagination simply a vivid escape?

The illustrations are a hybrid of watercolour and digital media, and each painting took weeks to complete. Pictures from Animalia (1986) on the farmhouse wallscelebrate Base’s seminal work and are a reminder of the illustrator’s talent in rendering magnificent animals. A combination of detail and wide-open spaces, close-up and distance shots, and closed and open frames give dynamics and depth. Perspective and size, such as the boy’s large hands emerging from the page to cradle his mouse, create immediacy and draw the reader close. The pages are designed to immerse the reader in their layers. Black and white frames are broken to give the reader an avenue into the artwork. These incomplete borders also reinforce the subverted reality in the story. They suggest another dimension: a secret opening or a riotous escape from reality, especially when the elephants feature. Readers are also ensnared when locusts burst from the page into another dimension, breaking the ‘fourth wall’; and a barbed-wire fence morphs from a sheaf of wheat, as the page turns, to form a threatening but impermanent boundary.

Detail from a page of UnforgottenThere is literary lineage between elephants and mice, not least from Aesop’s fable. Jim’s pet mouse, Pipsqueak, is an endearing character that strengthens the link between reality and imagination in Little Elephants. Another mouse provides narrative continuity between the cycle of the seasons and change in Danny Parker and Matt Ottley’s Tree: A Little Story about Big Things (Little Hare, $24.95 hb, 29 pp, 9781921714412). The mouse is the young reader’s entry into this picture book, and is first seen emerging from a hole in a vast tree trunk on the cover. It follows the lifespan of the tree from a sapling beside its parent-tree, through the storm that destroys its shelter, as it grows ‘tall, broad and strong, mighty and complete’, and eventually stands beside and protects a new sapling. The mouse provides a lively, engaging counterpoint to the immobility of a tree. Even though the tree does not leave its home, the landscape changes around it. Fortunately, land clearance and factories do not scar the land forever, and the tree is ultimately surrounded by parkland, albeit ringed by tall buildings. The complex issue of urban development, in appropriate form for young readers, is raised by the illustrations rather than by the written text. A subtext about coping with disaster and loss of a loved one could be extracted by older or insightful readers. The writing is minimal, with some careful description. The illustrations are the highlight of the book, particularly because of the atmosphere they create. This is achieved by their texture, and intentional starkness at one point; high and low camera angles; and close and wide distance shots. The dust jacket can be removed to form a memorable poster, and the hard cover beneath resembles timber. These are both creative and dramatic additions.

Like Unforgotten, Tree is an overtly cyclic tale. The cover blurb even lists a repeated series of words such as ‘Creation’, ‘Seed’, ‘Existence’, ‘Journey’, and ‘Age’ in enclosed and diminishing circles like the growth rings in a cut tree. This is echoed as a pattern on the brown cover. As with most of the picture books reviewed here, minimalist written text, although generally thoughtful, is eclipsed by the outstanding illustrations. This is not to detract, however, from the overall quality of these excellent books, whose formidable illustrators are among Australia’s best.

Although these books are to be cherished and admired, we are not to stop there. Like the flocks and other characters in the stories, we are implicitly urged by these book creators to be aware of those who need help and then strive to provide it.