(Houghton Mifflin, 1992)
Oh, what a talented man, that Chris Van Allsburg! His realistic, yet fanciful black and white
illustrations are masterpieces, works I can marvel at, feeling simultaneously
calmed and inspired. But he adds to the
awe through clever story ideas, compellingly written. In fact, the opening sentences of The Widow’s Broom caught my attention
even before the art:
Witches’ brooms don’t last forever. They
grow old, and even the best of them, one
day, lose the power of flight.
What a concept, what an introduction. Immediately, we think of a broom as a
character. The introduction further
entertains:
Fortunately, this does not happen in an
instant. A witch can feel the
strength slowly leaving her broom. The sudden bursts of energy that
once carried her quickly into the sky become
weak. Longer and longer
running starts are needed for takeoff. Speedy brooms that, in their youth,
outraced hawks are passed by slow flying
geese.
Pardon the pun, but now we’re fully swept up in our
imaginations. We consider the life of a
broom. We empathize with such brooms
whose glory days were long ago. Moreover,
we visualize without Van Allsburg’s illustrations. How fun to imagine a witch making unsuccessful
running starts in hopes of flying! How
amusing to picture the same exasperated witch falling behind a flock of honking
geese! (And oh how those of us with
clunker cars can suddenly identify with a witch!)
One day a worn out witch’s broom lands in—or plummets into—a
widow’s garden. Naturally, it comes with
a witch, but she makes a witchy exit, abandoning the useless broom. To the widow’s surprise, the broom retains
some of its magic, displaying its skills as an obsessive sweeper. With a little redirection, the widow comes to
welcome the broom. However, her
neighbors, particularly Mr. Spivey, feel
differently. “’This is a wicked,
wicked thing,’ he said. ‘This is the
devil.’”
This is a story about superstition, about suspicion, about
refusing to modify one’s black-and-white views of good and evil. This is also the story of triumph, not so
much the broom’s but the widow’s. Indeed,
superstitious beliefs can be manipulated.
Children will easily connect with the broom and side with it
when it is taunted, perhaps even bullied.
(Though I would argue the broom is never the victim. There is no imbalance of power. If anything, the broom has the upper
hand.) It is only at the end or during a
repeated reading that an audience will view the story more from the widow’s
point of view. This is a wonderful book
to use with students in discussing perspective taking. Think as the broom, as the Spivey parents, as
the Spivey children and ultimately as the widow. All of these characters have different reasons
for their thoughts and their behaviors.
A fanciful book like The Widow’s
Broom can shed light on real situations, on the notion of fear, on the
utility of objects and on how cleverness may prevail.
