By Julie Douglas

When my daughter asked what she should bring me from her trip to Paris, I automatically answered, "A book."  She politely pointed out that I do not speak French.

"It doesn’t matter," I explained. "Bring me a children's picture book. I want to see what French children read."

She returned from Paris with a shiny tome titled La Sorcière Camomille à Paris.  What followed is, I think, similar to the experience a young child might have when exploring a picture book.

There on the cover of my new treasure was a plump witch clutching a frame and hanging precariously over the Eiffel Tower.  I ran my finger across the title.  Because my knowledge of French pretty much begins and ends with bon jour, the words looked exotic.  I wondered if this is how a child feels when looking at the unfamiliar groupings of letters that inhabit that mysterious world of "reading."  I knew they meant something and I wanted to know what! 

First I looked for clues in the picture.  The witch frowned down at the familiar Eiffel Tower as she dangled from the title.  The story must take place in Paris.  I eyed the title again.  La Sorcière Camomille à Paris.   Sorcière looked a little like sorcerer, which is another word for witch.  So the title must say something about a witch in Paris, which would make sense.  Camomille.  That sounded like a name. My new little friend must be called Camomille.  I attempted to read the words aloud to my daughter (and she tried to hide her amusement at my poor pronunciation.)   "The Witch Camomille In Paris?" I ventured. Correct!

Now that I had tackled the title, a question nagged at me. Who was this Camomille and why was she in Paris?  I had to find out.   

On the first page we were introduced to Camomille and a few of her witchy friends who were getting gussied up in a beauty parlor.  The illustrations were funny and lively and I pored over the details, trying to uncover clues to the story.  It appeared that the witches were getting ready for some big event and had to look their best (worst?).   The hairdressers all sported spiked hair and large crescent moon earrings.  Immediately I felt a connection with the illustrator and appreciated his sense of humor.
 
I continued to explore each page in this manner, diligently studying the illustrations, searching the text for a word or two that might make sense to me.  I told the story (as I saw it) to my family.  Apparently, the witch Camomille (whom I liked immensely) traveled to Paris to participate in a fashion show for monsters.  Unfortunately, her small broom was not cut out for such a trip (or maybe Camomille was not a great pilot) and she had an unfortunate run-in (literally) with the Louvre.  Poor Camomille had to hide behind the "Mona Lisa" and "Venus de Milo" to avoid the attention of the art lovers that surrounded her. Apparently a world class museum was no place for a witch.  

Again and again I was drawn into the story behind the story as I looked closely at the antics taking place all around Camomille.  A small owl traveled with Camomille and could be found hiding out on each page.  This device reminded me of the tiny mouse in Goodnight Moon who plays hide and seek with the reader.  Although I was only able to guess at the meaning of the words on the pages, the illustrator had provided enough clues to serve as the bones of a story of my own creation.     

Camomille eventually escapes the Louvre and heads to the fashion show being held at the Pompidou, only to crash land in the Seine.  Wet and tattered, her large polka dotted bloomers on display, she finally makes her way to the contest where she takes first place!  And the prize (I love this part) was a big stack….of books!   

"What are these books?" I cried as I handed the book to my French-speaking daughter. Our little Camomille had won a complete set of the Encyclopedia of Magic! The story ends happily with Camomille flying back home, this time sitting on the wing of a jet.