Tomie dePaola

What are some building blocks for a Catholic imagination?

Just before Christmas, I was standing in the children’s section of our public library watching my kids play when a book caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. It was a picture book, standing upright on top of a low bookshelf. The watercolors captured my attention first, a rainbow of pinks, blues, and yellows in clear, simple shapes. More distinctive lines spelled out the title: Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise. 

“Let the Whole Earth Sing Praise?” I wondered. “That sounds awfully biblical for a book on display at a public library.” My question drew me closer to the book. As I approached, I saw the author’s name in smaller font printed across the top: Tomie dePaola. A small smile crept onto my face. “Of course.” I whispered out loud as I picked up the book to flip through its pages. 

He was the first author I remember meeting. At some point in the 90’s, my mom piled my sister, myself, and a family friend into the van and drove us to our local shopping mall. Weighed down by our winter coats, we stood in a hot line at the bookstore for what seemed like hours. And then, there he was: sitting behind a table, happy to see us and to sign the books we presented to him. The real-life person who was behind some of my most beloved books, like The Art Lesson, Strega Nona, and The Legend of the Poinsettia. 

As a child, I loved these books because of their unique illustrations. Not only was dePaola the first author I remember meeting, but he was also the first artist I remember recognizing. His distinctive, childlike style, with simple, bold lines and an earthy color pallet was memorable then and nostalgic now. But it wasn’t until I was an adult, reading his titles to my own children, that I realized how religious his artwork and storytelling is. 

I had a theory that Tomie dePaola had a Catholic imagination. So I did some research. 

dePaola was born in 1934 New York to an Italian father and an Irish mother. That fact alone made me think he was raised Catholic, and indeed, he was. According to his friend and biographer Barbara Elleman, “Brought up Catholic, dePaola found early delight in the church’s mysteries, liturgies of worship, and stories of saints.” Even though, as Elleman notes, “As an adult he had grown away from the Church,” it is evident that this early delight helped to form his worldview and artistic style. Indeed, Elleman continues, “he said spirituality has always been a driving force in his life.”¹ 

I can imagine that growing up in an Italian-Irish Catholic family in the 1930’s and 40’s probably wasn’t perfect. But for an artistic child like dePaola, I can also imagine it was fertile ground for a Catholic imagination to take root and grow. 

When I look at his books now, it is clear to me that dePaola had a Catholic imagination. Maybe it was his cultural upbringing, or his innate interest in myth, folkart, and storytelling, but I think his work contains several building blocks of a Catholic imagination, even when his subject is not overtly religious: 

1. Childlike wonder - Whether he’s writing about his own life or the lives of the saints, dePaola tackles serious subjects with an earnest simplicity. Much like a child asking honest questions about the world, dePaola doesn’t shy away from tough topics, but he considers and presents them in ways that are accessible without being condescending. In other words, he approaches his themes with wonder – not preaching or teaching, but inviting the reader to experience the unfolding story, including the questions it might raise or the comfort it might bring, alongside him.
   
   Recently, I read Nana Upstairs and Nana Downstairs for the first time with my daughter listening in. About halfway through, I realized that this book was about death, and I tensed. But dePaola uses wonder to land the story with grace, like a melancholy piano song that ends on a soft, gentle chord. 
    

2. Beauty and storytelling that points to truth - Elleman notes how dePaola carefully uses scene and page breaks to move his stories forward, like the panels in a stained glass window or a series of frescoes you might find in a church.² In this way, he is able to draw the reader into the story with beauty, and then direct the reader to the truth the story can reveal – whether it is about love, or sacrifice, or growth, or belief.
   
   I especially love how he does this in Strega Nona. In some places, it almost looks like a comic strip or a graphic novel, and the blocks work with the story to build suspense. Big Anthony is making a bad choice! What’s going to happen next? Readers want to know how the story will end, and when they reach the conclusion, they are ready to receive the lesson it teaches.
   

3. Incarnational style - His clear, bold lines are so iconic and feel so solid. At the same time, his bright, often translucent colors feel abstract or even ethereal. I love the way he combines these two elements in his artwork, and the final effect feels so comforting to me – somehow speaking to both my desire to be cozy and safe at home and my innate longing for something more.
   
   I recently marveled at this quality in The Three Wise Kings, where he uses color almost exclusively to create depth and perspective. How appropriate that a book about Christmas would feel so incarnational!  

These days, as I read Tomie dePaola’s books to my kids, I’m trying to figure out how to nurture a Catholic imagination in their growing hearts and minds. Like a wilderness guide, I want to walk with them through the world pointing out things that are good, and beautiful, and true. Inspired by the building blocks I see in dePaola’s work, here are a few things our family does at home to develop our own Catholic imaginations: 

• I try to talk about my own wonder and awe out loud with my kids so they can start to develop a similar inner voice. This is awkward sometimes! But I’m getting better at it with practice. 

• We intentionally fill our home with beautiful Catholic things and lots and lots of books. Thanks to the internet, this feels easy and fun! 

• We try to build community with other people who also have Catholic imaginations, which makes it feel a little more normal to see the world as a place where God is living, active, and present. 

What elements do you believe make up a strong Catholic imagination? And how can you help develop a Catholic imagination – either in yourself or someone else? I’d love to hear your thoughts in the comments! 

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If you liked this essay, would you forward it to a friend? Thanks for your kindness!

What I’ve been reading and writing lately: 

It’s been a while since my last post. Family and work obligations have taken priority in the last few months, as they should. The bright side is that I have lots of updates to share! 

• In January, Grotto Network published an essay I wrote about one of my favorite mystics, St. Catherine of Siena. (Many thanks to Dr. Fritz Bauerschmidt who helped me develop a similar (much longer!) essay on her writings years ago!)

• In an effort to step back from social media this year, I created my own website to house an archive of all of my writings and give folks a place to reach me. 

• For Christmas, my husband gave our kids a gorgeous biography of J.R.R. Tolkien titled John Ronald’s Dragons. Written by Caroline McAlister and illustrated by Eliza Wheeler, I get so excited whenever they request it as their bedtime story! A perfect gift for the little dragon lover in your life. 

• Sorry I’m not sorry: I can’t stop binge reading YA fantasy right now. Rebecca Ross has me in full fangirl mode after reading The Queen’s Rising and its stunning sequel, The Queen’s Resistance. I can’t wait to read everything else she has ever written in the coming weeks! 

Coming up… 

I’m going to try something a little different next time. The phrase “love requires sacrifice” has been stuck in my head for weeks. It’s going to take a whole essay for me to unpack these three words!   

1. Elleman, Barbara. The Worlds of Tomie dePaola: The Art and Stories of the Legendary Artist and Author. Simon and Schuster Books for Young Readers, 2021, p. 53.

2. Ibid, p. 155.