Children’s Literature in Education (2018) 49:356–375

https://doi.org/10.1007/s10583-016-9309-z

ORIGINAL PAPER

‘‘Seeing the Light’’: A Cognitive Approach

to the Metaphorical in Picture Books

Joanne Marie Purcell1

Published online: 26 December 2016

 Springer Science+Business Media New York 2016

Abstract Picture books, as both sophisticated aesthetic objects and literary texts,
provide the ideal site for critically examining how values and ideology are trans-
mitted to children. How the child reader might be affected by the process of reading
a picture book—that is, how he or she might be moved emotionally and potentially
gain new insights about the world—is of interest to scholars and educators alike.
This article draws upon cognitive literary theory as a conceptual frame through
which to explore the cognitive and emotional affect that reading may have upon
children. ‘‘Reader response’’ and ‘‘cultural criticism’’ are approaches to literature
that seek to understand how readers interact with texts. Cognitive theory, when
applied to literature, builds on these discourses by focusing on why reading fiction
might cause the brain to produce emotional and cognitive responses in readers. As
metaphors are a feature of language and of thought, a study of the metaphorical in
picture books aptly lends itself to the theoretical framework offered by cognitive
literary theory. Drawing on examples from four picture books produced for chil-
dren, broadly correlating to different developmental stages, this article examines the
role of metaphor in encouraging skills in decoding and creative thinking. Talking to
children about visual metaphor or metaphorical expression introduces them to a
feature of language and thought that provides a conceptual frame for richer
understanding and expression of ideas. Examining how the metaphorical operates in
picture books thus takes us a step closer to understanding how the process of reading
affects children and enriches their lives.

Joanne Purcell holds a Master of Arts in Children’s Literature (2016) (Macquarie University) and a
BA(Hons)/LLB, GDLP (2000) (Australian National University). She tutors in Ethics and Legal Practice
(ANU) and Literary Studies (University of Canberra) whilst studying towards Secondary teaching
qualifications in pursuit of a long-standing dream to work with adolescents and literature.

& Joanne Marie Purcell

joanne.m.purcell@gmail.com
1
Macquarie University Faculty of Arts, Sydney, NSW, Australia

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Keywords Picture books
Cognitive literary theory
Metaphor

The unique quality of picture books continues to attract the interest of researchers
and educators alike. As both sophisticated aesthetic objects and literary texts,
picture books have the potential to reflect epistemological positions about being and
existence. As the subject of literary criticism, picture books provoke inquiry into the
ways words and pictures work together to produce meaning and convey cultural
messages. At the same time, educators use picture books as a medium through
which to provide children with a grounding in aesthetic, social, moral or political
issues, whilst also improving their critical literacies and confidence as readers.
Researchers and educators agree that, whether viewed as aesthetic objects or as
literary texts (or both), picture books provide the ideal site for critically examining
how values and ideology are transmitted to children (Stephens, 1992). For
transmission to successfully occur, the child reader will most likely need to be
affectively engaged in the process of reading; that is, reading a picture book should
lead to the production of emotional and cognitive responses in the brain. To be
affected involves being influenced in some way or touched or moved emotionally,
whereas to be engaged suggests the use of mental processes that have the potential
to support new knowledge and understanding. Cognitive theory, when applied to
literature, is the study of how and why reading might function to influence people in
such cognitive and emotional ways. Study of this kind has only recently been
adopted by researchers of children’s literature as a conceptual tool. With the precept
that reading is of critical importance to children’s development, the results of
theoretical research into the implied reader’s affective engagement with literature
has the potential to influence educational theory and practice. Simply, cognitive
theory offers researchers and educators the conceptual means for exploring the
interdependence that, potentially, exists between children’s minds and the texts they
read.

Cognitive Literary Theory and Picture Books

Cognitive theory, when applied to literature, is also known as cognitive literary

criticism, cognitive narratology or cognitive poetics, though I prefer the term
‘‘cognitive literary theory’’. This theoretical approach to the study of literature,
however named, draws upon research in cognitive science. Like ‘‘feminist studies’’
or ‘‘cultural studies,’’ ‘‘cognitive science’’ signifies an interdisciplinary venture,
drawing from neuroscience, psychology, anthropology and linguistics, loosely held
together, as Alan Richardson explains (2004, p. 2), by ‘‘an overriding interest in the
active (and largely unconscious) mental processing that makes behaviour under-
standable’’. When applied to literature, explains David Herman (2009, p. 30),
cognitive theory involves the study of ‘‘the mind-relevant aspects of storytelling
practices, wherever—and by whatever means—those practices occur’’. Although
researchers have only recently adopted cognitive literary theory as a conceptual tool

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for studying children’s reading processes, the study of the adult reader’s affective
response to literature is not new. As Jonathan Culler explains (2011, pp. 63–64), the
idea of literary competence focuses attention on ‘‘the implicit knowledge that
readers (and writers) bring to their encounters with texts: what sort of procedures do
readers follow in responding to works as they do? What sort of assumptions must be
in place to account for their reactions and interpretations?’’ Thinking about readers
and the ways they make sense of literature has led to the development of ‘‘reader
response criticism’’, which focuses on how readers interact or transact with fiction.
Focusing on the concepts of reader, reading process and response, this approach
claims that the meaning of a text is largely the reader’s experience of it.1 Secondary
school educators, for instance, might adopt ‘‘reader response’’ in their teaching
practices as it allows individual students to argue for the particular meanings that
they have constructed from the text, so long as the claims can be supported (Lam-
part, 2010). In addition to ‘‘reader response,’’ modern theoretical movements have
sought to focus inquiry on the historical and social variations in ways of reading that
promote particular ideological outlooks. For example, Culler (2011, p. 135)
identifies the three theoretical modes whose impact upon literary studies, including
children’s literature, has been the greatest since the 1960s: deconstruction and
psychoanalysis, gender and sexuality studies, and historically oriented cultural
criticisms such as new historicism and postcolonial theory. Translated into a
‘‘cultural studies’’ model of English education in secondary schools, these
theoretical movements have influenced approaches known as cultural materialism
in the United Kingdom and critical literacy in Australia, both of which seek to place
literary ideas within a wider cultural context (Peel, 2010, pp. 31–43). In addition to
examining how readers interact with fiction, cognitive literary theory examines why
reading fiction causes the brain to produce emotional and cognitive responses in
readers, even as readers recognise fiction as a linguistic and/or pictorial represen-
tation of the real world. As David Herman (2013) argues, cognitive literary theory
explores why storytelling, as a mode of presentation, appears tailor-made for
gauging the felt quality of lived experience.
To successfully ‘‘read’’ a picture book and be affectively engaged, the reader
must first comprehend, interpret and conceptually blend two semiotic codes. The
codes interrelate and blend to produce new, emergent meaning. Rather than being in
a state of conflict and vying for the reader’s attention, as argued by Maria
Nikolajeva (Nikolajeva, 2012, pp. 278–279), the two semiotic codes exist in a
relationship of co-dependence, which David Lewis (2001, p. 35) describes as
‘‘interanimation’’: the two media will always act upon each other. Accepting that the
sophistication of the visual and verbal techniques deployed by authors and
illustrators will typically increase in concert with the implied sophistication of the
intended audience, a cognitive study of picture books must begin with an
appreciation of children’s developmental stages based upon empirical research
(Kümmerling-Meibauer & Meibauer, 2013, p. 144). At the same time, individual
differences of interpretation and affective response will always occur. What is

1
See Iser (1978) and Tompkins (1980) for discussion on ‘‘reader response criticism’’ as a movement
rather than a conceptually unified critical position.

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significant and meaningful to one child—how he or she ‘‘reads’’ the words and
pictures—will not necessarily be to another. This variation in response is influenced
by each child’s developmental path. Even as he or she moves through develop-
mental stages, development is uniquely individual; he or she experiences plateau
points and learning spurts influenced by many factors, including parental and
educator input, genetics, socio-economic status, and the environment. When sharing
a picture book, for instance, the extent of necessary adult verbal mediation, or
‘‘scaffolding’’ (Bruner et al., 1976, p. 90), will be determined by a child’s stage of
development and what L. S. Vygotsky (1978, pp. 86–87) terms the ‘‘zone of
proximal development’’. Presuming all other things to be equal, this ‘‘zone’’ is the
difference between what a child can achieve independently and what he or she can
achieve with expert guidance. In order to examine how authors and illustrators rely
upon and, potentially, influence their child readers’ cognitive and emotional
development, I need to take into account the adult who mediates the reading
experience for the child. At the same time, the meaning an adult discovers in a
picture book will inevitably be different from that discovered by the child; authors
and illustrators can ‘‘play’’ with the concept of dual address when transmitting
meaning. My focus remains, however, on the meaning discoverable by the child
reader, as assisted from time to time by an adult co-reader, understood in terms of
the child’s affective engagement in the storytelling process.

The Cultural Importance of Metaphor

The use of visual and verbal metaphor in picture books is one means by which
cultural knowledge is transmitted to children. If we accept the notion that picture
books exemplify and impart society’s current values and attitudes (Stephens, 1992,
p. 189), then we can assume that deploying the metaphorical allows authors and
illustrators to influence and direct the nature, source and limits of cultural
knowledge. Being able to access metaphorical meaning has the potential to affect
children’s ability to interpret literature, formulate and articulate ideas and
understand the world in culturally normative and customary ways.
Metaphor is a feature of both language and thought, and thus, as Herman (2009,
p. 31) argues, an example of the ‘‘mind-relevant aspects of storytelling practices’’.
As a feature of language, metaphor can be understood as ‘‘a figurative expression in
which a word or phrase is shifted from its normal uses to a context where it evokes
new meanings’’ (Wallace, 1993, p. 760). To ‘‘word and phrase’’ can be added visual
composition and the interplay of words and images in picture books. Because
metaphor invites the reader to treat something as something else, it can also be
categorised as a basic version of knowing: we know something by seeing it as
something. At the conceptual level of interest to cognitive literary theory, the
convention is to describe the ‘‘normal use’’ of a word or phrase (or visual/verbal
composition) as the ‘‘source’’ concept, and the ‘‘context’’ as the ‘‘target’’ concept.
These concepts share common properties which, when blended, can be abstracted
into ‘‘the new emergent understanding’’ (Stockwell, 2002, p. 107): that is,
metaphorical meaning. As a child develops his or her capacity to interpret and

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decode the metaphorical—in literature and in life—he or she will also be

developing conceptual frames for use when decoding and constructing stories, and,
more broadly, understanding the world and expressing ideas. Examining the role
metaphor plays in encouraging skills in decoding and creative imagining thus has
the potential to shed light on children’s meaning-making processes because to
access the metaphorical requires the reader to use conceptual blending. As the
younger reader develops his or her capacity to do this they are given the key with
which to unlock meaning in a way that is socially and culturally grounded.
The most influential theory of metaphor is that offered by George Lakoff and
Mark Johnson in Metaphors We Live By (1980). Lakoff and Johnson argue that the
ordinary human conceptual system is fundamentally metaphorical in nature and that
thoughts can be categorised into groups expressed through conceptual metaphors.
For example, consider the conceptual metaphor LIFE IS A JOURNEY (conceptual
metaphors are conventionally written in capitals [Stockwell, 2002, p. 107]). This
variously means that people try to ‘‘get somewhere’’ in life, ‘‘find their way’’,
‘‘know where they’re going’’, ‘‘encounter obstacles’’, etc. (Culler, 2011, p. 72).
Based in embodied experience, conceptual metaphors are pervasive in everyday
speech. Yet, says Antonina Harbus (2004, pp. 9–10), whilst helpful in understanding
how metaphor influences the shape of a person’s mental life and mode of
communication, Lakoff and Johnson’s approach is limited: they fail to consider the
origins of conceptual metaphors, in particular how knowledge founded upon
metaphor is structured at a cultural level and cultural ideas transmitted through
metaphor. In what ways, then, do authors and illustrators deploy conceptual
metaphors to seek to influence how children perceive the world and their situation in
it? Furthermore, given that identifying and decoding metaphor is a creative
cognitive skill essential to effective communication and social understanding, how
do picture books foster development of these skills in children?
In seeking to answer these questions, I examine the use of metaphor as
exemplifying culturally shared knowledge in four picture books produced for
children. Each of these texts broadly correlates to different developmental stages.
Although neither is strictly confined to these age boundaries and may well extend to
readers of 8 years or more, for the preschool years (ages 1–6) I consider Danny
Parker and Matt Ottley’s Parachute (2013) and Oliver Jeffers’ Stuck (2011). For the
primary-school years (ages 6–11), I consider Libby Gleeson and Freya Blackwood’s
Clancy & Millie and the Very Fine House (hereafter Clancy & Millie) (2009). For
the late primary and early secondary-school years (ages 10 onwards), I consider
Shaun Tan’s The Red Tree (2001), which requires comparatively more sophisticated
interpretative skills. Each text is linked by situational context. Even as they tell
universal stories, the cultural reference points are undeniably within the modern
Western tradition. The texts are also linked thematically. Each encodes the socially
perceived expectation that children will ‘‘grow up’’ by overcoming solipsism—the
inability to distinguish one’s own self from the otherness of the world and of other
people (McCallum, 1999, p. 7). Typically, a narrative of growth involves the
protagonist moving beyond childhood solipsism by developing empathetic relations
with others.

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How the Brain Works: Conceptual Blending and Metaphorical Meaning

To understand how metaphor operates in literature and in life requires, says Roberta
Seelinger Trites (2012, p. 67), a ‘‘major instantiation of our brain’s imaginative
structuring’’. Put simply, the brain must process the interaction of a primary and
secondary subject to produce the metaphorical idea. In this article I draw upon the
work of Mark Turner (2002) and Stockwell (2002) to explore how people
understand metaphorical expression. For instance, Turner (2002, p. 10) describes the
process in terms of a cognition function called ‘‘conceptual blending’’:
Conceptual blending is the mental operation of combining two mental packets
of meaning—two schematic frames of knowledge or two scenarios, for
example—selectively and under constraints to create a third mental packet of
meaning that is the new, emergent meaning.
Similarly, for Stockwell (2002, p. 97), conceptual blending is the mechanism by
which, ‘‘we can hold the properties of two spaces together, such as in metaphorical
or allegorical thinking’’.
In order for cognitive blending to occur, a person must have developed
conceptual domains upon which to draw—Stockwell’s ‘‘spaces’’ or Turner’s
‘‘mental packets of meanings’’. As internalised codes in our brains, conceptual
domains are described as ‘‘any sort of conceptualisation: a perceptual experience, a
concept, a conceptual complex, an elaborate knowledge system, etc.’’ (Langacker,
2006, p. 31). A child, explains Perry Nodelman (1988, p. 8), cannot understand the
information their perceptual organs provide until they interpret that information in
the light of previous experience. To illustrate, each person has a domain-specific
conceptual category of ‘‘cat’’: all cats are cats even if one is blue and another is
missing a leg. Yet the first time a child sees a cat it is not yet a ‘‘cat.’’ Whilst it may
be remarkable and attract the eye, the cat-object will not have meaning that
significantly separates it from any other object that attracts the eye until the meaning
of ‘‘cat’’ is explained to them. ‘‘All objects,’’ continues Nodelman (1988, p. 9), ‘‘are
most significantly meaningful in the context of the network of connotations we
attach to them, many of which we may not even be conscious of—not just personal
association and experience but also cultural assumptions.’’
In The Red Tree, Shaun Tan relies upon his readers’ capacity to attach
significance and meaning to objects in order to access metaphorical meaning. In this
picture book, aimed at the older or adolescent reader, Tan explores his nameless
female character’s seeming inability to construct a sense of herself as an agent, to
find meaning in the world and to be independent. He represents the girl’s cognitive
processes as imagined landscapes, as she journeys through a day of perceived
negativity, mental anguish and depression. The text is narrated in a single sentence
over fifteen openings, or double-page spreads, in the second person, a rarely used
mode which functions here to tell the story as if the child reader were the character.
This encourages strong alignment between them. As the text tells the story and
pushes the reader onwards, the intricate and detailed pictures hold them back,
creating tension. In each opening, Tan hides a solitary red maple leaf. Like a child

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who has yet to develop a domain-specific concept of ‘‘leaf,’’ should the reader
notice it in an opening, at first they are unlikely to consider it as more remarkable
than the other fantastical images depicted. When they realise that it appears in each
opening, however, they may ponder why and begin to construct a conceptual
domain for the solitary red maple leaf. The girl also fails to see it throughout her
trouble-filled journey; until the end, that is, when a vividly red maple tree sprouts
from her bedroom floor. The cumulative effect of each opening upon the reader
creates in his or her mind a network of connotations and expectations about the girl
and, in Herman’s words (2002, p. 89), her ‘‘current and emergent experiences’’. The
effect of this is to cast the leaf as ‘‘significantly meaningful’’ (Nodelman, 1988,
p. 9): it is the embodiment of hope that things will turn out all right in the end. The
relative emotional importance and visual weight of the solitary red maple leaf shifts
from the literal to the figurative by the narrative’s close when it assumes a place on
the red tree. The coloured endpapers of the book, which, at the front are grey, but at
the back, vividly red, echo this transformation. The reader’s capacity to access the
metaphorical meaning of a visual image or verbal expression—such as the solitary
red maple leaf—is a skill that is likely to develop over time and through experience.
To explore the early stages of this developmental process, in the next section I
consider how metaphor is used to convey meaning in Parachute and Stuck, two
picture books produced for the youngest readers.

Introducing the Younger Reader to Metaphor in Stuck and Parachute

The authors and illustrators of Stuck and Parachute address meaning to both the
child and adult reader. They introduce and rely upon metaphor to do this. Both
readers are thus required to be the active agents of blending, or are ‘‘assisted’’ to be,
when interpreting metaphor, understanding the interactions of the words and
pictures and combining scripts and schemata to arrive at meaning. A ‘‘schema’’ is a
cultural model derived from already existing texts or images and ‘‘script’’ is a
stereotypical sequencing of actions that serves as a ‘‘mental protocol for negotiating
a situation’’ (Stockwell, 2002, p. 77). Schemata and scripts encode cultural
meaning; it is likely that even the youngest readers will have had some exposure to
them and, where the concepts are new, can be assisted to appreciate meaning by the
adult reader.
The creators of both Stuck and Parachute rely upon the plot device of things
getting stuck in a tree, and assume that the reader has a conceptual domain about
what that typically involves. Within Western cultural experience, the concept of
‘‘things getting stuck in trees’’ will likely call to mind models derived from already
existing images or texts to suggest a schema for the sorts of things that typically get
stuck (a kite, a cat, a child) and what situational script is typically followed to get
that thing down (knock it down, use a ladder, call the fire brigade). In Parachute, a
cat gets stuck in a tree, followed by, significantly, the child character Toby. As a
mode of cultural communication, Parachute is an example of a picture book that
introduces readers to the script of ‘‘growing up.’’ Toby embodies the societal
expectation that children should overcome solipsism, exemplified in his

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development of empathy for his cat (Henry). He rescues the scared Henry from the
tree using his parachute, in the knowledge that he must then climb down without it.
By helping another, Toby experiences psychological growth that allows him to
conquer his fears and climb down unaided. In Stuck, Jeffers also relies upon a
schema for ‘‘things that get stuck in a tree’’ and cultural scripts about what to do,
which forms the basis of his humour. He extends the pattern to hilariously
incongruent lengths: at first a kite gets stuck, followed by all the things the child
character (Floyd) throws into the tree in an attempt, at first, to knock down the kite
but then to knock down the other things that get stuck. Floyd’s choice of what to
throw next is driven by a moment-by-moment approach to problem solving, typical
of solipsistic children. He is unable to conceive of other ways of solving the
problem. Jeffers thereby harnesses the young reader’s lived experiences, including
his or her prior and/or ‘‘assisted’’ knowledge of relevant cultural scripts and the
logic that to knock down a big object requires an even bigger one to be thrown at it.
Despite the inherent ridiculousness of the things Floyd throws—an orangutan, a
small boat, a big boat, a rhinoceros, a long-distance lorry etc.—Floyd’s choice is
still grounded in the need to knock the last object down. This story structure may be
recognisable to the reader from the well-known rhyme that begins, ‘‘I know an old
lady who swallowed a fly’’ (Bonne, 1961). Linguistic theories of comedy based on
incongruity argue that for humour to work in this way, the incongruity must have
some kind of logic enabling its comprehension (Mills, 2011, pp. 155–156). Referred
to as the ‘‘logic of the absurd’’ (Palmer, 1987), the comic incongruity in Stuck
derives from Floyd’s choice about what to throw into the tree next, which is a
logical extension from the object before. The humour lies in the escalation of
ridiculousness as Floyd, but not the reader, loses sight of his original problem.
As a mode of communication, the cultural ideas Jeffers intends to convey are
ambiguous. Unlike Toby in Parachute, Floyd is dismissive of the needs of others,
except in so far as those needs may affect him. Because Floyd’s focus is on solving
his immediate problem, in Opening 6 (left), beginning with the text, ‘‘The ladder
was borrowed from a neighbour and would DEFINITELY need to be put back
before anyone noticed…’’, he appears less concerned with the morality of having,
by implication, taken a ladder without asking, than with getting caught. On the one
hand, Floyd could be metaphorically ‘‘stuck’’ at a solipsistic developmental stage.
(Although such an interpretation of ‘‘stuck’’ might only be accessible to adults). On
the other hand, Stuck could be read as a celebration of childhood and children’s
peculiar, perhaps endearing, moment-by-moment approach to problem solving,
without insisting on the experience of ‘‘growth,’’ as occurs in Parachute. Again,
such an interpretation may only be available to adults, although the impious glee
with which most children I know engage with Stuck suggests they sense that this
picture book is subversive, even if they are unable to articulate why.
Metaphor plays a part in both picture books, as the conveyor of cultural ideas,
whilst simultaneously teaching readers about metaphorical meaning. An example is
Opening 13 (right) of Stuck, beginning with the text ‘‘Then he had an idea…’’ By
this stage, Floyd has demonstrated his ineptitude at dislodging the kite from the tree.
Most of the things he throws have little chance of helping his original cause of
knocking down the kite, his immediate aim being to throw bigger or more extreme

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things to knock the last thing down. Yet some items could help, as the reader well
knows. Before Opening 13, two potentially helpful objects are unhelpfully thrown
into the tree: a ladder (Opening 4–5, beginning with the text, ‘‘…and up he threw
it’’) and firemen in a fire truck (Opening 12, beginning with the text, ‘‘A Fire Engine
was passing…’’). In both instances, Jeffers interrupts the left-to-right reading
convention of Western literature by depicting Floyd throwing against the reading
flow, signalling that Floyd’s thinking runs contrary to the norm. Having primed the
reader in this way to question Floyd’s intelligence, in Opening 13, Jeffers depicts
Floyd at the moment he has ‘‘an idea’’, holding up his right finger, mouth shaped as
if to say ‘‘Aha!’’ and, above his head, the image of an illuminated light bulb.
The representation of an illuminated light bulb above a character’s head is a
mainstay in cartoon or comic strip art to indicate that they have an idea, and
functions here as a visual metaphor. Jeffers steps younger readers through the
process of cognitive blending needed to arrive at this metaphorical idea. The
‘‘source’’ conceptual domain to be blended is the knowledge that by turning on a
light a person sees things, signalled by the image of an illuminated light bulb: this
can be assumed knowledge in young children. This is mapped onto the ‘‘target’’
conceptual domain: that ideas—thoughts, plans, and strategies—occur in a person’s
mind, signalled by the words, ‘‘Then he had an idea’’. The blend of both conceptual
domains (also of images and words) results in the metaphorical idea: a ‘‘light-bulb
moment,’’ meaning to experience a sudden moment of realisation, enlightenment, or
inspiration.
By applying the ‘‘light-bulb moment’’ metaphor to this situation, readers are
invited to assume that Floyd has suddenly realised the usefulness of some of the
objects other than as things to throw. Perhaps he will use the next object he thinks
of—a saw—as it should be used? But before the reader uncovers the answer by
turning the page, Floyd gleefully reaches above his head, grabs the light bulb and
hurls it off the page to the right, before running off: Floyd is sabotaging his ‘‘light-
bulb moment’’. This draws the reader’s attention to the image of a light bulb and its
metaphorical function. He or she recognises that Floyd’s action pre-empts his next
move: after throwing away the light bulb (his idea, the reader infers, to attempt to
solve the problem other than by throwing things) predictably he throws the saw into
the tree too. The humour shifts subtly at this point from incongruity to the reader
constructing a position of superior knowledge to Floyd’s (Mills, 2011, pp. 153-155).
Even as Floyd is now the butt of the joke, he, in fact, has the last laugh. The kite
comes unstuck, despite Floyd throwing the saw into the tree rather than using it to
cut the tree down. This is depicted in Opening 15 (left) beginning with the text,
‘‘And that was it!’’ Simply, writes Jeffers, there was ‘‘no more room left in the tree’’.
This disrupts any sense of superiority felt by readers and, in particular, the adult
reader. Jeffers seems to be poking fun at the adult tendency to ‘‘instruct’’ children on
the ‘‘correct’’ approach to solving problems—such as kites stuck in trees—based on
adult experience. Yet, happy as Floyd is to play with his kite again, whether things
will turn out well for him remains unclear. As the story comes to a close, in Opening
15 (right) beginning with the text, ‘‘That night Floyd…,’’ Floyd is depicted falling
asleep hugging his kite, alongside the text: ‘‘…he could have sworn there was
something he was forgetting’’. Through the window the reader sees all the people

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and objects still stuck in the tree. There is thus some unease about Floyd’s ultimate
fate and the resolution of this situation, leaving the reader to wonder and fill in the
gaps. The fireman’s words in the final scene over the page highlight this unease,
yet also suggest a solution. He says ‘‘Hang on a minute lads, I’ve got a great
idea…’’. This is a direct reference to the humorous last line of the British caper film
The Italian Job (Collinson, 1969), uttered as the protagonists’ bus balances
precariously over a cliff. Jeffers’ similarly invites readers to consider how this caper
might end, perhaps taking comfort in the possibility that the firemen could use their
ladders the right way and climb down.
Whereas Jeffers’ use of metaphor obfuscates the transmission of cultural ideas
about ‘‘growth,’’ Ottley and Parker rely heavily upon metaphor to communicate
meaning. In this book the concept of ‘‘parachute’’ is cognitively richer than its literal
sense. For the parachute to assume metaphorical meaning from Opening 1,
beginning with the text, ‘‘Toby always wore a parachute’’ onwards, Parker and
Ottley require readers to blend their ‘‘source’’ conceptual domain for a ‘‘parachute’’
(a fabric device for slowing the descent and aiding a soft landing of a person or
object through the air) with the ‘‘target’’ conceptual domain, to ‘‘grow up’’ (to no
longer need help from others, especially adults). The result is a third space, the
significance of which is greater than the sum of the first two: Toby’s parachute
functions metaphorically as his psychological and emotional support, needed until
he grows confident enough to look after himself. As further interpretative support
for readers, Toby also carries a conventional comfort toy in the shape of a rabbit
complete with its own toy-sized parachute.
Floyd’s ‘‘light-bulb moment’’ and Toby’s parachute are examples of the
deployment of metaphor in picture books produced for younger readers. The ability
to connect and blend stories, concepts or ideas to make a ‘‘third mental array’’ with
an ‘‘emergent structure of its own’’ (Turner, 2011, pp. 41–42) is fostered in children
through adult-mediated or assisted early exposure to metaphor. These cognitive
skills have the potential to be enriched further when children are assisted to make
blends of blends through encounters with conceptual metaphors.

Conceptual Metaphors and Blending Blends in Parachute and Clancy &

Millie

Because Parachute follows a script of growth, the metaphoric resonance of Toby’s

parachute is greater than its role as a child’s comforter. So as to activate figurative
possibilities and, in the process, privilege particular cultural attitudes and values, the
‘‘source’’ conceptual domain ‘‘to grow up’’ is frequently blended with the ‘‘target’’
conceptual metaphor LIFE IS A JOURNEY in texts for children. LIFE IS A
JOURNEY is, itself, a blend of the ‘‘source’’ conceptual domain ‘‘life’’ and the
‘‘target’’ conceptual domain ‘‘journey’’ and, as Trites explains (2012, pp. 66–67), is
typically evoked as an ‘‘embodied metaphor for growth’’ in children’s literature,
although not exclusively so. Other metaphors include shaping, forming, painting,
sculpting, filling, containing and so on. Although life is neither a journey nor a
voyage, Trites continues, the passing of time is frequently mapped as if it were a

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land or sea over which a person must travel. The result is a blend of blends: growth
LIFE IS A JOURNEY.
As Toby is a young child, still with training wheels on his bicycle, his ‘‘journeying’’
occurs close to home. He must navigate his day supported by the parachute (and toy
rabbit), including climbing down from the top bunk, finishing breakfast, brushing
teeth, using the swings, seesaw and slide, and facing the elephant at the zoo. His
parachute (and toy rabbit) is ever present as his emotional support until he must use it to
rescue Henry (the cat) from the tree. Toby’s ‘‘light-bulb moment’’ can be verbalised
thus: ‘‘If I can look after others, I can look after me.’’ As expected, in Opening 14,
beginning with the text, ‘‘As time passed…’’ Toby needs ‘‘his parachute less and less’’.
In the final Opening, the narrative concludes, ‘‘And one day, he left it behind.’’ Toby is
depicted descending from his top bunk bed without the parachute or his toy rabbit. The
rabbit smiles out of the page, locking eyes with the reader, inviting them to enter into a
relation of social affinity with it (Kress & van Leeuwen, 2006 [revised], p. 118).
Affirming an ideology of growth, the rabbit smiles, as if to say, ‘‘I don’t mind, he was
ready to go it alone, just as you will one day too.’’
In Clancy & Millie, Gleeson and Blackwood similarly rely upon metaphor to
explore themes of growth. As a picture book produced for the slightly older reader,
they assume more cognitive and linguistic skill, and prior experience of stories and
the world, than might be assumed for the readers of Parachute and Stuck. This
allows schemata, scripts and metaphors to be deployed and blended in more
sophisticated ways, perhaps without the need for as much adult mediation to
discover meaning. Visual metaphor is of importance to Gleeson and Blackwood’s
transmission of meaning, as illustrated by the image presented on the half title page
(Fig. 1). From the title the reader infers that this story is about moving house,

Fig. 1 Half-title page, Clancy & Millie and the Very Fine House, Text copyright  Libby Gleeson 2009,
Illustrations copyright  Freya Blackwood 2009 (Gleeson and Blackwood, 2009)

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moving indeed to a ‘‘very fine house’’. Significantly, this is an adult judgment and is
unequivocal. On the half title page (Fig. 1), a child’s head is depicted poking out of
a large cardboard packing box; the reader is likely to infer that this is Clancy, the
boy who is moving house. The visual composition of the title, one word atop the
next, creates a reading path directing the reader’s eyes downwards to rest on Clancy.
In cognitive linguistic terms, Clancy is the ‘‘figure’’ towards whom the reader
directs their attention and the empty void-like space around it is the ‘‘ground.’’ As
Stockwell explains (2002, p. 14), the relationship between ‘‘the formal devices in
the text and the part of the experience that strikes you most strongly lies in the
description of figure and ground’’ (Stockwell, 2002, pp. 13–14). That Clancy is the
most salient element on the page is strongly suggested by such ‘‘formal devices’’ as
the absence of detailed background and the textual reading path; our focus is on him
in the box. The effect is to foreground Clancy’s situation within the box, likely
invoking the readers’ conceptual domain, schema and associated script for such
boxes: children love to play in them. This notion, however, is challenged by the
expression on Clancy’s face. As John Stephens and Sirke Happonen (2003, p. 2)
argue, bodily posture and facial expression in picture books have conventional
significances attached to them; they orientate the reader attitudinally and
ideologically towards the subject depicted. Clancy’s small mouth and eyes, and
his inverted eyebrows, suggest to readers that he is unhappy, perhaps vulnerable,
even a little scared about the prospect of moving to ‘‘the very fine house’’. Having
interpreted his emotions thus, the readers might blend this ‘‘source’’ conceptual
domain with the ‘‘target’’ conceptual domain concerning the typical use of large
boxes by children. The third mental space produced is the metaphorical idea: the
box represents Clancy’s emotional state.
The metaphorical idea that ‘‘the box is Clancy’s emotional state’’ can also be a
‘‘source’’ conceptual domain to be further blended with the ‘‘target’’ metaphor ‘‘to
think outside the box.’’ This expression means to think differently or from a new
perspective. As a subset of the conceptual metaphor THE MIND IS A
CONTAINER, to ‘‘think outside the box’’ presupposes that the limits of the mind
are the result of outside forces—society, the status quo, convention—that function
to stifle individual creativity and innovation. As Harbus (2004, pp. 10–15) explains,
metaphorical expressions about the mind and its activities seek to understand a
person’s ‘‘inner life by recourse to basic, concrete and widely recognisable
metaphors built around embodied acts such as perceiving, moving and object
manipulation’’. The appeal of THE MIND IS A CONTAINER is that it is widely
recognisable and apparently appropriate: the mind is varyingly a container with
compartments, a house that needs spring cleaning, a site of growth, boxed in by
society and so on. In the normal course of things, Clancy should be creatively
playing with the box. Rather, he is depicted ‘‘inside the box’’ symbolising the
suppression of his ‘‘inner life’’ and an apparent inability to challenge the status quo.
At this moment Clancy feels no more involved in the decision to move house than
furniture to be shipped in a box. In confirmation of this sentiment, the title incudes
description of the house as ‘‘fine’’, an implicitly adult valuation of quality: houses
are things about which adults, and not children, make decisions.

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Boxes feature in their metaphorical capacity throughout Clancy & Millie. Having
moved into his new house, by accepting the gesture of friendship offered by Millie,
his new neighbour, Clancy develops the capacity to, once again, play with boxes.
Symbolically, Clancy’s friendship with Millie bolsters his confidence to create from
the boxes ‘‘a very fine dwelling’’ of his own, as depicted in Opening 14, beginning
with the text, ‘‘‘It’s the best house,’ says Millie’’ (Fig. 2). Through this action,
Clancy achieves emotional and physical control over his situation, signalled also by
the adopted adult lexicon. To do this, Clancy must ‘‘think outside the box.’’ The
final box structure created by Clancy and Millie in Opening 14 is both creatively
different from the typical play-box structures built by children and recreates, on
Clancy’s own terms, the same pile of boxes that oppressed him in an earlier scene,
at a time before he had met Millie (Opening 7, right, beginning with the text, ‘‘Then
he goes to the boxes.’’) The metaphorical idea of the ‘‘source’’ conceptual domain
(‘‘the box is Clancy’s emotional state’’) can be blended with the conceptual
metaphor of the ‘‘target’’ conceptual domain (growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY). The
meaning emerges that, by gaining control over ‘‘the boxes,’’ Clancy experiences
psychological growth. The reality of the ‘‘very fine house’’ loses its emotional sting.
The final Opening (Fig. 3), is without text and depicts Clancy smiling over his
shoulder at the reader. He makes eye contact just at the toy rabbit did in Parachute,
inviting the reader to share in his experience (Kress & van Leeuwen, 2006 [revised],
p. 118) He ascends the stairs into the ‘‘very fine house’’—the world of adults—
leading Millie by the hand. The reader’s eyes are drawn upwards by the vertical
vectors of the hand-rail and the angle of the stairs to see Clancy’s smile and meet his
gaze, before being drawn up again by the vertical vectors of the doorframe to the
circle of light shown through the doorway. Gleeson and Blackwood signify mood
metaphorically because both UP and LIGHT have implicit metaphorical functions:
respectively ‘‘uplifted spirits’’ and ‘‘to experience perception or insight’’ (as in the
‘‘light-bulb moment’’ in Stuck). In this scene, UP and LIGHT as ‘‘source’’
conceptual domains are blended with the conceptual metaphor of the ‘‘target’’

Fig. 2 Opening 14, Clancy & Millie and the Very Fine House, Text copyright  Libby Gleeson 2009,
Illustrations copyright  Freya Blackwood 2009 (Gleeson and Blackwood, 2009)

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Fig. 3 Final Opening, Clancy & Millie and the Very Fine House, Text copyright  Libby Gleeson 2009,
Illustrations copyright  Freya Blackwood 2009 (Gleeson and Blackwood, 2009)

conceptual domain (growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY) and the emergent meaning

reinforces the social expectation that children should overcome solipsism.
Symbolically, as he ascends the stairs to enter the world of adults, Millie in tow,
Clancy leaves behind his childhood comfort toy, no longer needed, on the stair
below.

The Meaning of ‘‘Growth’’ and Multiple Blends of Blends in The Red

Tree

So far I have examined how the creators of Stuck, Parachute and Clancy & Millie
subtly invite readers to appreciate metaphor and utilise conceptual blending so as to
arrive at meaning. Throughout this process, readers are simultaneously prompted to
reflect upon different epistemological positions about being and existence or, if very
young, can be assisted by their ‘‘mediating’’ adult reader to do this. I now return to
The Red Tree in order to examine the affective potential of metaphorical expression
upon the older reader. Recognising the prevalence of ideologies of growth in picture
books for children is an important component of accessing the thematic intent of
Tan’s text. The older reader’s relatively more developed cognitive and linguistic
skills are likely to assist them to do this as they embark upon the cognitively
complex process of interpretation.
The cover image of The Red Tree (Fig. 4) foreshadows the thematic importance
of ‘‘journeying’’. The girl is depicted floating in a paper boat, the conceptual domain
for which includes notions of childhood innocence and play. In this scene, the paper

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Fig. 4 Cover image, The Red Tree, Text copyright  Shaun Tan 2001, Illustrations copyright  Shaun
Tan 2001 (Tan, 2001)

boat functions figuratively, evoking the conceptual metaphor LIFE IS A JOURNEY.

Yet, the paper boat that carries this girl on her ‘‘life’s journey’’ is, in fact, becalmed
in an endless sea in the rain—shown by the ripples in the water. Her boat is
transcribed with negative words of self-doubt (‘‘trouble’’, ‘‘don’t’’, ‘‘nothing,’’
‘‘nobody’’, ‘‘fate,’’ ‘‘worse’’…). Blending as a ‘‘source’’ conceptual domain notions
of childhood play, exemplified by the paper boat, with the ‘‘target’’ conceptual
domain LIFE IS A JOURNEY, results in this story being framed by the conceptual
metaphor—growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY. This paper boat metaphorically
represents this girl’s transition from childhood to adolescence, a journey over
which she seemingly has no control.
As a picture book produced for an older or adolescent audience, in The Red Tree
the form of solipsism depicted is less about failing to comprehend ‘‘the other’’ as
different from ‘‘the self’’, and more about the older child’s inability to perceive his
or her own selfhood as independent of the world and to exhibit the capacity to act
with agency within that world (McCallum, 1999, p. 7). Tan foreshadows the girl’s
struggle to construct a sense of self by depicting her looking over the boat’s edge at
the reflected outline of the boat, yet being unable to see her face reflected. Instead,
she sees a solitary red maple leaf floating where her face should be, marking the leaf
as in some way significant to her story. The leaf floats within the boat’s reflection,

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which, together with the boat, forms the shape of an almost perfect two-triangle star.
The leaf, too, is reminiscent of a star. A two-triangle star is common among many
peoples, both as decoration and as a magical sign (Scholem, 1949, p. 244) though it
is most well known as the Jewish Shield of David, representing the union of body
and soul, or the struggle between darkness and light (Conde, 1942, Preface). If the
reader succeeds in assembling the words written on the paper boat, they discover
that they form the text of The Red Tree. The sentence ends with the plaintive ‘‘or
who you are meant to be’’ from Opening 12, although it is only possible to realise
this after having read the book. This discovery by the reader echoes the girl’s
epiphany when, in the final Opening, she discovers the red tree growing from her
bedroom floor (Opening 15, beginning with the text, ‘‘just as you imagined…’’)
(Fig. 6). This is anticipated by the boat’s reflected peak—one point of the star—
creating a vector pointing to the words ‘‘THE RED TREE’’. The reflected sides of
the boat, the angle of the girl’s nose and the direction of the floating leaf create
another vector pointing to the page edge, where the reader will grasp the cover to
open the book. Even if the girl cannot yet see it, by virtue of being depicted in a
higher vertical position looking down upon her ‘‘journey’’ in the pages ahead, she
assumes a position of relative power over the experiences depicted there (Kress &
van Leeuwen, 2006 [revised], p. 140).
Tan’s use of metaphor on the cover pre-tells the girl’s story, and his reliance upon
the metaphorical continues throughout the book. In each opening, as she ‘‘journeys’’
towards the red tree, Tan requires readers to blend multiple conceptual domains to
arrive at the metaphorical idea and then blend that further so as to arrive at meaning.
For example, in Opening 4, with the text, ‘‘nobody understands’’ (Fig. 5), Tan first

Fig. 5 Opening 4, The Red Tree, Text copyright  Shaun Tan 2001, Illustrations copyright  Shaun Tan
2001 (Tan, 2001)

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prompts the reader to draw upon their ‘‘source’’ conceptual domain for ‘‘contain-
ment’’ (suppression, control or restraint), represented by the girl within a glass
bottle, within a pool of water, within a heavy antique copper and brass deep-sea
diving mask. Second, readers blend this with the ‘‘target’’ conceptual domain for ‘‘a
message in a bottle’’ (an undirected form of communication sealed in, archetyp-
ically, a glass bottle, thrown into the sea or ocean), represented by the girl contained
within such a bottle being washed ashore. The reader notices salient elements from
each conceptual domain, which assume status as ‘‘figures’’ by virtue of being
differentiated from the ‘‘ground’’ (Stockwell, 2002, p. 13–14). These might include
the girl’s physical containment and the futility inherent in undirected communi-
cation. The blended result is a third mental space, the significance of which,
especially its emotional resonance, is greater than the sum of the two inputs: the girl
experiences both a physical and emotional inability to communicate. She
experiences this right now, as noted by the present tense verbal text: ‘‘nobody
understands’’.
The conceptual blend that produces ‘‘a physical and emotional inability to
communicate right now’’ can be blended further. Taken as a ‘‘source’’ conceptual
domain, it can be blended with two ‘‘target’’ conceptual metaphors: THE MIND IS
A CONTAINER and growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY. Blended with the first
conceptual metaphor (THE MIND IS A CONTAINER) it produces metaphorical
ideas like ‘‘the bottle is a limiting container of her mind and her thoughts are
messages tossed uselessly into the ocean’’ or, alternatively, ‘‘her mind is like the
experience of wearing a diver’s helmet: despite the beauty and life all around,
darkness and solitude prevail.’’ Similarly, blended with the second conceptual
metaphor (growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY) it suggests that she fails to adhere to
social expectations and ‘‘grow up’’; even though she has ‘‘journeyed’’ across the sea
inside the bottle, subversively this journey has failed to result in psychological
growth. By implication, Tan questions the tendency in children’s literature to
restrict narratives of growth to scripted ‘‘journeys’’ such as that followed by Toby in
Parachute, Clancy in Clancy & Millie and arguably subverted by Floyd in Stuck.
Could there not be other ways to achieve ‘‘growth’’? Perhaps Tan’s use of THE
MIND IS A CONTAINER suggests that, even if ‘‘journeying’’ fails this girl in this
instance, her mind remains fertile ground, waiting for the right seed to be planted.
The existence of other ways of achieving growth is suggested in Opening 4, with
the text, ‘‘nobody understands,’’ by the co-dependence of images and words. Each
‘‘interanimates’’ the other; the words extend the meaning of the image and vice
versa, to produce new and different meanings to complete the message (Lewis,
2001, p. 35). For instance, the angle of the girl’s diving helmet creates a diagonal
vector directed down towards the verbal text: ‘‘nobody understands’’. By virtue of
being higher, the girl assumes a position of relative power over the words: whilst
she feels misunderstood now, this will not always be the case. The vector created by
her gaze extends beyond the frame, breaching the confines of this imagined scene
and suggesting there is also a ‘‘way out’’ of the emotional and physical containment
she feels right now. This possibility is metaphorically captured in the lightening sky
and swirling white clouds in the background, evoking the conceptual metaphor,
‘‘light on the horizon.’’ Inside the diving helmet the girl is blinkered from seeing the

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light, her tunnel-like vision fixed upon the words; but not so the reader. The
lightening horizon draws attention away from the words and the girl’s slumped body
and mirrors the swirling white brush-strokes that fill the space outside the frame, as
if ‘‘the light’’ waits to be ‘‘let in.’’ Through the interplay of word and image, Tan
acknowledges the reality of the girl’s internal struggles and the existence of ‘‘hope’’
and a ‘‘way out.’’
In the final opening, beginning with the text, ‘‘just as you imagined…’’, after
‘‘journeying’’ through fantastical landscapes similarly imbued with metaphorical
meaning, the girl stands before the red tree, symbolically basking in a beam of light
from the doorway on the right; the light having, at last, found its ‘‘way in’’. By
turning against the conventional left-to-right reading flow, in this final scene the girl
confronts her past experiences, represented in the pages before. Tan concludes The
Red Tree by addressing the girl and the reader together. Whilst the red tree takes on
metaphorical meaning as representing ‘‘hope,’’ what ‘‘hope’’ might be is left up to
the reader to decide: ‘‘but suddenly there it is right in front of you bright and vivid
quietly waiting/just as you imagined it would be’’ (Openings 14 and 15) (Fig. 6).

Fig. 6 Opening 15, The Red Tree, Text copyright  Shaun Tan 2001, Illustrations copyright  Shaun
Tan 2001 (Tan, 2001)

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Thinking About Thinking Itself

As a component of culturally shared knowledge, when deployed by authors and

illustrators of picture books metaphor influences and guides children’s linguistic and
cognitive development by encouraging skills in decoding and creative thinking.
Because metaphor is a feature both of language and of thought, metaphorical
meaning is accessible to readers when they employ the process of cognitive
blending. The embodied experience of movement through time and space, or the
mind’s capacity to learn, for instance, can be blended to produce scripts of growth—
the conceptual metaphors growth LIFE IS A JOURNEY and THE MIND IS A
CONTAINER. Metaphor is thus a useful tool for authors and illustrators interested
in promoting ideologies of growth. Indeed, the cultural importance of ‘‘growing up’’
is introduced to readers when young (Parachute; its counterpoint Stuck) and
affirmed when older (Clancy & Millie). This tendency to be concerned with scripted
‘‘journeys’’ of growth in children’s literature prompts Tan and his reader to question
the applicability of conceptual metaphors of growth to all children, especially the
older child or adolescent (The Red Tree). Critically examining how the authors and
illustrators of picture books simultaneously rely upon and teach metaphor
illuminates one means by which cultural ideas are conveyed to children.
Falling within the broader field of cognitive literary theory, the close study of
metaphor provides a new method of thinking about the ways in which stories are
told and, in the process, thinking about thinking itself. It brings cognition into
consciousness. A cognitive approach to the study of metaphor has the potential to
inform educational practices. Talking to children about visual metaphor or
metaphorical expression introduces them to a feature of language and thought that
provides a conceptual framework for richer understanding and expression of ideas
and, consequently, a richer engagement with the world around them as part of their
lived experience. This is one reason why reading to children is so important to their
personal growth. Whether through image or expression, understanding how the
metaphorical operates in picture books is another step towards understanding how
the process of reading cognitively and emotionally influences children and enriches
their lives.

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