It’s always a delight when a children’s book takes you
by surprise, and that is exactly what happened with Junkyard, by Mike Austin
(born 1963). I have been woefully
unfamiliar with Austin’s work, but was so tickled by Junkyard that I will now
be on the lookout for his other books.
Junkyard is the story of two robots – square, boxy
creations with gears rotating in their chest – who clean out a Junkyard by
eating the trash. Once done, they plant
trees and fruits and vegetables, build an idyllic playground, invite their
friends over and… make it a paradise of what was once a wasteland.
Though Austin certainly never hammers his theme too
heavily, the environmental mission of the book is clear. This come through particularly in Austin’s
digital illustrations, which are cluttered and ‘messy’ in the earlier pages of
the book, and clean, streamlined and invited in the latter half.
Austin’s first introduction to drawing came from his
mother during his boyhood. He remembers,
she showed me how to hold a pencil and
draw faces. I loved everything about
drawing; the waxy texture of crayons, sharpening a pencil, an empty sheet of
paper just waiting to be scribbled on.
For many people, the smell of Play-Doh brings them back to their
childhood, for me it’s the smell of a freshly kneaded eraser. I loved redrawing the Sunday comics, mostly
the Peanuts gang and the Wizard of Id.
My favorite Christmas present of all time was the Peanuts Treasury, the
greatest collection of comics the world had ever seen! I still have the book….
As with most authors of children’s literature, the
gestation can take decades, the seed often in a childhood experience. Talking about Junkyard, Austin remembered: When I was twelve years old, my best friend
had the brilliant idea of sneaking into the local junkyard to find better
go-cart wheels and more wood for our tree fort.
I had never been to the junkyard before; it was off-limits. If we got caught, I would be grounded
forever.
We
rode our bikes down the dirt road to the back of the junkyard, ditched them
behind a bush and proceeded to get sneaky.
We crawled under the fence and stood in awe of teetering stacks of
rusted cars, tangled rolls of oxidized copper wire, and mound upon mound of
mufflers. It was both fascinating and
terrifying. In the middle of all that
junk was a big crane that I swore looked just like a giant alien robot, arm
outstretched, clenching a fistful of bent metal. I was already starting to freak out when my
friend opened the trunk of an old car. A
giant opossum jumped out, landing at his feet.
It screeched and we screamed, dove under the fence, and pedaled home as
fast as we could. I never did find any
go-cart wheels that summer, but I did end up with a huge stack of cartons
featuring a giant alien robot, a killer opossum, and my friend peeing his
pants.
Junkyard has a distinctly millennial American feel –
while cluttered and messy and perhaps past its prime, still scrappy, filled
with ingenuity, and hopeful of a better tomorrow. Junkyard is quite terrific.
