The Oxford English Dictionary succinctly defines an ogre as “a man-eating monster, usually represented as a hideous giant” in folklore and mythology. It comes from the French via Perrault’s fairy tales (its mate is an “ogress” and their offspring an “ogrichon” according to Mme d’ Aulnoy). No ogre is welcome when scouring the countryside for its next meal, whether it happens to be a good supply of baby belly buttons, which by oni, the ogres of Japan, relish, or a brace of fat boys rolled in bread crumbs and fried in butter, the favorite dish of the giant Snap-‘em up in Uncle David’s nonsensical story from Catherine Sinclair’s Holiday House (1839). The ogres I’ve found in picture books from the last ten years seem to belong to an altogether different subspecies.
The title of Michael Morpurgo’s The Ogre Who Wasn’t (2023) gives fair warning. A somewhat forced reinvention of Grimms’ The Frog Prince is odd place to invoke the presence of a monster. Motherless Princess Clara discovers a teeny tiny ogre in the garden and stows him under the bed in a hot pink character shoe.
Because her father is away most of the time, the disagreeable servants try to constrain her but she defies them by keeping an extensive menagerie in her room and running wild barefoot in the garden in dirty shorts with uncombed hair. One evening she confides her pain to her best friend the loyal little ogre, who reveals that he is really the Toad King and has magical powers, which can be put at her service. He grants her wishes to scrap the help and give her a stay-at-home dad with a nice new wife. There is nothing more for the new racially blended family to do in this sweetly vapid story but live happily ever after.
The creature in Peter McCarty’s 2009 picture book Jeremy Draws a Monster is quite satisfying–big, blue, and bulky with multiple horny protrusions, pinpoint eyes, big
nostrils and bare earholes (funny preparatory drawings turn up on the endpapers). But things go awry almost immediately. It wants a sandwich, when it ought to threaten Jeremy, a much more substantial mouthful. It wants consumer goods to help pass the time, including a television so it can watch the game. Wearing a dandy red hat, it goes out on the town and hogs the single bed when it gets back very late. That is the last straw. Jeremy draws a suitcase and one-way bus ticket and escorts the big blue pest to the station in the morning. Then he joins the neighborhood kids in games for the first time. Obviously the ogre is a projection of Jeremy’s imagination, which probably explains why his creation won’t eat him and goes without putting up a fight. If it isn’t real and only looks dangerous, then the story deflates without any conflict between the two unequal characters. Even if the point were that monsters are all in your head, of which I’m unconvinced, the imagination demands the possibility of them being real.
Leave it to David Sedaris to think up Pretty Ugly (2024), a typically weird story, the last to be illustrated by the late Ian Falconer. Dedicated to Tiffany, Sedaris’s sister who committed suicide, he also pays tribute to the ability of sister Amy to make ghastly faces.
Whenever the adorable little ogrichon Anna is awful, she is so good that her parents and grandmother coo that she really is “something.” Her bad habit of making dreadful faces–adoring gran starts at the fuzzy bunny gran–prompts her mother to warns her quite correctly that if she doesn’t stop it, she’s going to be sorry. Anna dismisses her concern, until the features of her most horrible face of all (shown to the left) cannot be reversed. Even a medical intervention fails to restore her face to its original loveliness. While her loving family can live with their little monstrosity in a new guise, her peer group has no problem reminding how her how hideous she is now. After secluding herself in the wood shed for a miserable three days, Anna remembers her grandmother’s consoling words about true inner beauty and sticks her hand down her throat to turn herself inside out, which solves the problem (below). There is nothing traditional about this ogre story, but if they ever start creating picture books about family life, they could do worse than take Sedaris as their literary model.
I’m not sure why authors and illustrators who have been busy reinventing Western folklore’s traditional baddies have smoothed off most of their rough edges. As monsters go, an ogre is terrifying, but otherwise uncomplicated. It stomps around, uses brute force to capture people, and devours them, sometimes with guests. Maybe it tosses the bones into a large, grisly, untidy heap outside its dwelling place. Still, a brave and quick-thinking child like Little Thumb has a shot at defeating one. But perhaps the classic stand-off between big and small compares unfavorably with old and modern stories about Japanese yokai and requires big injections of horror and violence to hold its own in today’s media environment. Time to clap if you believe in ogres?
Category Archives: American children’s books
Presidents in Picture Books: Revising Trump I 2016-2020
Since 2016, over two dozen children’s books written from either side of the aisle have tackled the difficult task of explaining the current administration’s policies to young readers. Some of the most interesting ones purchased for the research collection of the Cotsen Children’s Library are surveyed here.

President Donald J. Trump Paper Dolls. Dover Publications, 2017. (Cotsen)
Dover Books captured the glamour of Donald John Trump’s inauguration in a commemorative paper doll book. The new First Lady’s pale blue Ralph Lauren ensemble and other Trump women’s designer gowns outshine the President’s dark blue coat, business suit, and long red tie.

The Trump Family Story. [Middletown, 2021]. (Cotsen)

Donald Trump: America’s 45th President. Peachtree City: Carole Marsh/Gallopade International, ©2016. (Cotsen)
Donald Trump the 45th President (2016) is the only example of a fun-fact introduction to this occupant of the White House. It was produced by Gallipolade International, an educational publishing company founded by Carole Marsh that produces materials supporting curriculum in social studies. Before diving into sections describing the Electoral College, the line of succession, and the history of Camp David, young readers learn that Donald Trump loves See’s Candies, scrapes the toppings of the crust of his pizza, and styles his hair after Melania cuts it. Informative activities include quick quizzes, a form for drafting a letter to the chief executive, and a maze (help the Secret Service find the president who’s gone to make a snack in the kitchen).

Donald Builds the Wall! Washington, DC: Regnery Publishing, [2019]. (Cotsen)

Trump and the Dragon. [USA]: Great American Children’s Books, [ca 2017]. (Cotsen)

A Lib I Am! [USA], c2017. (Cotsen)

Dear Mr President. London: Templar Books, 2019. (Cotsen)
A brief pause for Dear Mr. President (United Kingdom: Templar Books, 2019), a picture book whose author/illustrator made an honest attempt to break down one of the signature political initiatives of the Trump administration in an accessible way without oversimplifying its complexity. Sam has decided that his big brother, with whom he shares a bedroom, sounds like an undesirable according to President Trump’s definition. Building a wall sounds like a good solution to the problem of his brother’s thoughtlessness, so Sam writes a series of letters to the American president telling him about his construction project’s progress. During family discussions Dad has a word with his older son and hostilities begin to subside. Sam comes around to the idea that “communication and negotiation are always preferable to separation,” especially now that he knows that the great walls of history didn’t attain their builders’ objectives. It’s probably no coincidence that this gentle, common-sense story illustrated by Anne Villeneuve is the work of New Zealander Sophie Stier.

Donald Don’t Grab that Pussy. [USA], c2017. (Cotsen)

Take a Trump. [USA, ca 2017]. (Cotsen)

The Very Angry Caterwauler. [USA], c2017. (Cotsen)

If You Give the President a Twitter Account. New York: Humorist Books, 2019. (Cotsen)
Laura Nemeroff’s famous series has been taken of advantage for Trump parodies at least twice. Matt Lassen’s If You Give the President a Twitter Account (New York: Humorist Books, 2019), is as much an indictment of the role pundits on network and cable television feed into the 24-hour news cycle that allows Trump to manipulate coverage to his advantage, while Trump’s less presidential traits are the butt of Fay Kanouse’s If You Give a Pig the White House (New York: Castle Point Books, 2019).

If You Give a Pig the White House. New York: Castle Point Books, 2019. (Cotsen N-002892)
It’s a pity that Kanouse and her illustrator Amy Zhing have not yet produced the three other books advertised on the dust jacket flap: If You Put a Snake on the Supreme Court, Ivanka and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good Very Bad President, and Oh, the Prisons You’ll Go To.

Goodnight Trump. New York: Little, Brown and Company, 2018. (Cotsen N-002893)
Possibly the most trenchant picture book parody about the Trump administration is Goodnight Trump (Boston: Little Brown, 2018), unsurprisingly the work of Erich Origen and Gan Golan of the New York Times. The text and pictures skillfully weave together details about the president’s self-promotion, alignment of the country’s interests with those of authoritarian regimes, trade policies, exploitation of the tax laws, immigration policies, etc. to crest in an apocalyptic vision of Washington being swept clean: “Goodnight global climate shock / Goodnight ticking Doomsday Clock / Good night allies thrown under the bus / Goodnight “the best people” / Goodnight cover-up brush / … / Goodnight swamp / Goodnight troll / Goodnight upended Old Glory / Goodnight hole in the soul / Goodnight to the lies and the truths he evades/ Goodnight Trump and his whole sad charade.”

Trumpty Dumpty Wanted a Crown. San Francisco: Chronicle Prism, [2020]. (Cotsen N-002895)
“Dumpty suggests disinfectant injections/ To save us from COVID’s pernicious infections, / Or a frontal attack to defeat it outright / By blasting our lungs with salubrious light, / A blithering idiot, gone round the bend: / When in the world will this lunacy end?”

Don’t Be Like Tump. [USA, 2021]. (Cotsen)
Picture books about the tumultuous transition after the election, culminating in the January 6th riot in the Capitol Building, could appear within months. No account of the Trump presidency from the left or right should omit it, but who will touch it? That remains to be seen. This motley crew of picture books and their even scruffier friends, which didn’t make the final cut, will surely give future historians pause.
Note: Readers now may react very differently to this post than when it was first published in 2021. A new round of authors may have been inspired by events since the inauguration last January to comment via picture books….

