European
Picture 
Book
Collection

Country: Bulgaria
Language: Bulgarian
Title: ‘Vdun proglednia mrak' ( Deep in the penetrable darkness )
Author/illustrator: Victor Samuilov
Publisher: Zlatorog.
ISBN: 954-437-105-2
Chosen by: Vladimir Tomomanov, Dom na detskata kniga, Sofia, Bulgaria.

Rationale for Choice:
Deep in the penetrable darkness was chosen for the BARFIE collection because it is about a young eagle owl's destiny. He is different from the others but, when he decides to travel to the Arctic and meets a fox, he is finally convinced that differences make our lives more interesting.

Re-telling
An eagle owl, the protagonist of the fairytale, who hates light and the troublesome glow-worms, lives in the hollow of a beech tree that has been struck by lightning. He is interested in astronomy- and most of all in one mysterious object in the meteor stream of Leonides in the constellation of Leo, but the nocturnal inhabitants of the wood and the sun disturb him and he dreams of experiencing a “proper” night. Then he has a lucky break.   The owl hears an advert on the radio for a trip to the Arctic where he will experience “the longest polar night”, “protection of the darkness” and “icy silence”. Without a second thought he packs his father's old bag and sets off in a hurry to fulfil his dream of “the longest continual darkness”. While travelling, he nearly falls victim to the gold teeth of a fox caught in a trap; he meets a “stray sheep” that “is really fond of helping others find the right way”; and he meets a “soul mate"- a bat that collects photographs taken by his camera with a “dark flash”. The owl is extremely happy, because with the bat's help he manages to take a photograph of the brightest star, the sun, for his astronomical study. Shortly before achieving his aim, he nearly freezes in the biting frost. A white female owl, trying to escape from the polar night, finds him and saves him. The eagle owl takes her with him on his journey back to his home in the hollow of the beach tree. They are both convinced that “there's no place like home”, and follow the way that goes “in the opposite direction to their fresh tracks”. On their way they meet a herd of “stray sheep”, but the sheep already mentioned isn't there, because it alone has managed to go back to the sheep pen. The fox has meanwhile been turned into a magnificent fur collar … The story finishes with an epilogue: After many, many years the two owls start to quarrel harshly like every “married bird couple” and fail to notice when their child finds the forbidden telescope and starts looking through it.

Translation:
Because the light in the dark is so much dearer to us
than a sudden shadow in broad daylight,
I dedicate this to you, my little owl Yaska!

An owl lived in the heart of a beech tree that had been struck by lightning. He was all alone in his hollow which was crammed with astronomical charts, rolls of parchment, lunar calendars and sky atlases.

              Early each morning, frowning at the dawn, he would set his alarm clock for 7 p.m., or, as nocturnal birds would say, for 19.00 hours Then he would slip under the duvet and half-close his eyes that were red with the strain of staring at the celestial dome. At sunset, he would grab his towel and swat away the fireflies that entered his hollow; then he would comb his feathers with a thistle twig and, after doing a few refreshing exercises, would devote himself to his nightly astronomical observations.

              Lately he had pointed his telescope at the mysterious object in the Leonid meteor stream, hurtling through the depths of the Leo constellation, which in turn is hurtling through the giant starry system called the Galaxy, which in turn ...

              To be honest, the animals living in the wood had absolutely no idea what exactly the owl was doing. Just when he had been entranced by mind-boggling calculations and just when the darkest thought in the world had occurred to him, the cheeky nightingales would startle him with their warbling and would grate on his ears with their amorous croaking. Yuk!

              On the other side, the neighbour's radio would be booming; she was collecting hazelnuts for the winter and kept cracking them, giving him earache. On top of everything, the sun would shine in. The heavy blinds were as little use against it as the day lamp, whose black beam hardly managed to darken the astronomical records spread on the table.

              "No-o-o-o-o! I can't stand it anymore!" Owl swore yet again, "This way I'll never be able to finish my work ... If only I could have at least one quiet night!

              As he began setting his alarm clock for 7 p.m., the neighbour's radio interrupted its metallic twanging and the announcer's voice croaked: "If you need the cover of darkness, if you're longing for icy silence, visit the Arctic! The longest polar night!"

              "But of course!" Owl froze. " The Arctic! The longest night! Heavens!"

Filled with unfamiliar resolve, Owl danced round his hollow, whistling just like a nightingale. He found his father's postman's bag, patted the dust off it and stuffed inside it his thick notebook where he kept his night things, his white-lead pencil that a stork in the diplomatic service had given him last spring, and two or three cans of food, just in case. Then he swung the bag over his shoulder and said goodbye to the hollow and goodbye to this life, which had been a waste of time to this day! He never even looked round. He flapped his wings and scared the wits out of a forest Mouse that had been surprised by the dawn far away from her house. The Mouse covered her head with her paws and froze, expecting the worst. But when the threatening flapping of wings passed her by, she opened one eye cautiously. Startled, or perhaps amazed, by the fact that she was still whole, she squeaked at the Owl: "Loser!"

              He neither heard her, nor noticed her. How could he notice her, when the dawn was poking his eyes like a blade. He flew as best as he could, this way and that, swerving among the vague shapes of rocks and trees. He could not ultimately avoid a collision: he slammed head on into a huge rock and then found himself down on the ground, on the pine-needle carpet.

              "Oooh! What a   charming visit!" He was confronted by the hospitable sparkle of gold teeth belonging to an emaciated female Fox. She grinned at him as if she was in seventh heaven with happiness, even though her hind legs were caught firmly in the jaws of a rusty hunting trap.

              "Excuse me," Owl groaned, "would you happen to know if this is the right way to the Arctic?"

"I beg you pardon, I did not understand your question," the fox said, coquettishly curling her tail in the shape of a question mark.

              "The polar circle ... Franz Joseph Land ..."

              "But of course I can tell you the way, dear. I show people the way gladly. You have to walk two small steps to the left ... that is right, then two steps left ... you're doing very well, sweetheart ... now walk six steps towards me ... and ... ooops!"

              The fox jumped at him so suddenly that the chain of the trap clinked taut to breaking point. Owl backed off as if stung. The varnished nails whizzed an inch from his face.

              The prisoner (oh, how her sense of justice had been hurt!) began stamping her paws on the ground and wailing: "You stupid prey! Loitering aimlessly just in front of my nose, while I've been struggling all my life to put meat on the table!"

              "Sorry! I'm afraid I can't help you!" Owl backed off and dived into a merciful shrubbery. At least here it was dark enough to see the ground he was walking on. Sometimes, you will agree, it is better to walk in the dark than to fly in the sunshine ...

              Owl walked and walked, and then he heard an anxious jingling in front of him. This must be the alarm clock of some nocturnal bird, he thought and carefully, oh so carefully, he pushed aside a few nettles. It turned out to be a Sheep, bleating tearfully at the top of her voice.

              "You must have lost your flock?"

              The bell fell silent, and a couple of tears rolled down and watered the grass.

              "I don't need a flock! I'm a stray sheep. How about yourself?"

              "I'm heading for the polar night. Looking for the longest darkness ... and I'm so tired ..."

              "Get on my back, I'll see you some of the way!" the Sheep beamed and shook her head so enthusiastically that she sprinkled the Owl with her tears. Then, after sniffing noisily, she added: "I love setting people on the right track!" Immediately she squatted so that the Owl could climb onto her woolly back. Then she lurched forward so headily that her rider almost fell over. He gripped her neck. The problem was, they did not rush exactly forward, nor even backwards, but started circling ceaselessly the crooked tree trunk in the middle of the meadow, as if under a spell.

"But we're not getting anywhere this way!" the Owl tried to out-shout the clatter of hooves and the jingling of the bell.

              "Oh yes, we are!" the Sheep bleated. "Only first you have to go astray and get lost. In order to do that, you have to get dizzy first, and the world has to start spinning round you! It's great fun, you just wait and see!"

              "Stop, please, what is the point of deluding ourselves?"

              "What a stupid beast!" the Sheep exploded. "Whoever can start looking for the right way without losing their way first?"

              Indeed, the world spun around his head so badly that he was going to be lost completely. Nasty thing, you know! Luckily he remembered his wings, jumped suddenly up in the air and, tipping this way and that, he flew in circles over the meadow because of the sheer momentum. The Sheep felt she was losing her bearings herself, so she dug her front hooves into the ground and, breathing heavily, dropped down in dizziness. Tears of extreme loneliness rolled down from her eyes.

              "Thanks for taking me for a ride!" The Owl did not forget to say goodbye during his last swoop over the meadow.

              Although he felt better after the fit of dizziness, he still flew in a zigzag.

              For a long time he was followed by the Sheep's ceaseless sobs.

              Poor thing, the Owl sighed, his heart overflowing with compassion. Deluding herself deliberately that she had chosen to be deliberately deluded all her life!

              You will agree that the others' suffering sometimes fills us with unexpected strength, persistence and eagerness to reach our goals. If only he could get to the Arctic! Once he was engulfed by the polar night, let anything happen! The important thing would be for him to be able to devote himself to his work, until his last night.

of time. It started raining. At first it was a drizzle quite like a sheep's tears, then the rain increased and an incredible downpour began.

              Where to hide? Luckily he saw the entrance to a cave. Not bad, sometimes it is better to swerve from your goal and wait in a dry and warm place rather than pushing headstrong for your goal until you drop down with exhaustion.

              The darkness in the cave was balm to his eyes. Just when he was relaxing, he was surprised by a whisper. The echo doubled and trebled it: "Will you do me a favour-favour-favour?"

              "Hello to you, whoever you are!" the Owl muttered.

              "What do you mean, whoever I am? I am not whoever at all!"

              "Who are you then?"

              "I am a kindred soul. Will you do me a favour?"

              "Depends on what it is."

              "Can I collect you? I collect memories before hibernating. My camera has a darkflash. I press the shutter release and ..." here the whisperer indulged a long, very long yawn before continuing: "So you see, I press the shut ... ter ... I ... press the ... shut ..."

              His phrase stumbled to a confused halt. The echo, in turn, doubled and trebled his booming, mighty snores.

              "Hey," the Owl said tremulously, "hello, kindred spirit-spirit-spirit!"

              "Oh," the whisper came startled. "So how far had we got? ... So you see, I take aim with my camera with the darkflash; then you take three steps back to the exit ... good ... now two steps to the left ..."

              "No way! I've been through this already!"

              "Oh, come on, don't get jumpy! There are no foxes here! Go a little further left, that's right, now you're in the frame, don't move! Shutter release!" A darkstream flew out of the darkflash and the whisperer finished smugly: "You've been collected! You know, what matters most in this world is the trace, the memory, you leave behind, know this from me."

              "You're a genius!" the Owl said, as a happy thought occurred to him. "Using this darkflash, I could photograph even the brightest star for my astronomical study."

              "I'm not a genius, I'm a bat-bat-bat!"

"Then will you do me a favour in return for my favour-favour-favour?"

              While he was still in the middle of this complicated question, the Bat -- zzzzzzzzzzzzzz -- sank into slumber again. The Owl followed the sound and found him hanging with his head down behind a few stalactites. The stalactites were beautified (or, frankly, uglified) by the portraits of innumerable obliging beasts, among whose mirror-image muzzles the Owl spotted the Squirrel, the Fox and the stray Sheep and even the whole impudent choir of eternally amorous nightingales.

              Without wasting any more time he cautiously slipped the camera strap over the head of the sleeping bat and ran towards the cave's exit. The downpour had subsided somewhat, but only towards nightfall did he manage to capture the moment when the sun peeped behind the scary clouds. Before it could hide again -- click! -- he took a great picture. He put it between two pages of his night gear to keep the sun from getting crumpled, and then flew back.

              "I wish you the darkest possible dreams, my friend!"

              "Huh?" the bat startled. "How far were we?"

              "We were saying goodbye. Do not keep bad memories of me."

              "There are no bad memories, mate. Nothing matters-matters-matters!" the echo yawned. "Go through the snow all the time. The more it is ... the more ... it ... zzzzzzzzzzzzz"

              He wanted to say that the more snow there was, the closer he would be to the Arctic, but his hibernation was not asleep, it was doing its job.

              Well, now the Owl could do without any more directions. First of all, the storm brought with it the faint smell of snow, and then after a while, the snow itself beat the rain and pushed it way back. It was snowing so beautifully! Did I say beautifully? It was snowing as-tro-nom-ic-al-ly! There was a fluffy, light Leonid meteor stream, a constellation, a night-time Galaxy, a whole universe of snow.

away from his coveted goal! Why delude himself -- it was impossible to make another step forward.

              For the first time in his life, the Owl wailed desperately: "Hoot! Hoot!" Even the echo was silent.

              It was time to make the last record in his night diary, the last record in the great astronomical study that had made his life meaningful. With difficulty he opened the frozen lock of his bag. He snatched his pencil, but the white lead broke on the frozen leaf. At this moment another unexpected gust of the snowstorm snatched the black notebook from under his wing, picked up the photo of the brightest star and pitched them somewhere in the endless space.

              "Hoot!"

              Having lost all his strength, the Owl leaned back and stared at the sky. It was grey and smooth, and it rushed towards him to hug him icily.

              When he came to, the first thing he saw seemed to be almost his own mirror image -- it was a female Snowy Owl.   She hugged him with her feathers, warmed him with her breath and quite soon the Owl regained a little strength and asked:

              "Where on earth did you come from?"

              "From Franz Joseph Land, my friend. I am fleeing the polar night!" the white nocturnal bird winked at him in a chummy way.

              "Oh, to think that I wanted so much to get there ... I wanted to finish my work in the polar night ... At home the nights were ever so short."

              "What do you want that for?" the Snowy Owl giggled simple-mindedly. "Three months of nothing but ice and no food! Be grateful you're still alive. Better stay alive and leave your work unfinished, than have your work live and you yourself ... you know ... Well, are you ready? Then let's try to save our skins!"

              Supported by the Snowy, the Owl rose. They made their way with difficulty through the snow drifts, going opposite to his recent footprints. Later, warmed by her closeness, he even managed to flex his stiff wings. They began flying! The Snowy followed him closely and, probably wishing to encourage him, never stopped repeating her "What do you want that for, may I ask? What for?"

"You may be right," the Owl uttered after a prolonged silence. "The best place to be is home, where night and day are equal -- where you work during the night and rest during the day."

              Gaps appeared in the snow cover below them, then the first green tufts. The Snowy saw among them two pages from the Owl's night diary, but did not say anything, to avoid disturbing him unduly. Later, when she saw a crumpled photo of the sun trembling on a thistle, she kept silent again. It was so funny, showing an icicle hanging down from the sun! The next evening they approached the Sheep's meadow.

              The Owl's heart throbbed pleasantly, so mellifluous did he find the sweet jingling of the Sheep's bell from afar. Yet there was a surprise in store for him -- amid the cloud of dust he saw a whole flock of Sheep galloping round the trunk, their bells swinging merrily.

              The two nocturnal birds alighted on the lowermost branch and the Owl shouted: "Hello, have you seen a stray Sheep?"

              The flock dug their hooves into the ground and goggled with the resulting sudden dizziness.

              "We are a-a-ll stray sheep here, the who-o-o-le flock! There was just one idiot among us, she went ba-a-a-ck to the pen," the sheep said in chorus, their tears rolling down onto the grass. Then suddenly they rushed again, deluding themselves and giggling.

              "Heavens, how I envy her! How I envy her!" the Snowy sighed when they were airborne again. But she did not mean the stray sheep. "Just look at that collar! Wow, what beauty!"

and clearings that looked more and more homey; they reminded him more and more of his hollow, the one he had left once upon a time with such high ambitions.             

              Many years passed since then, so many that even the Owl started forgetting his youthful crazy wanderings. Well, true, the Snowy sometimes remarked: "Well, you never actually told me how you got to know that Sheep!"

              The Owl would then pull his glasses forward, and put down his unfinished novel with a bang.  

              "What do you want that for, may I ask? What for? Loser!"

              This mousy phrase for some reason calmed the Owl's ruffled feathers.

              "You wouldn't understand it even if I told you. Once we deluded ourselves together."

              Clearly one of those sweet domestic affairs familiar to all married birds was brewing, affairs that even wings will not save you from. A little carried away in their quarrel, the spouses never noticed how their precious offspring toddled out of the kitchen and, taking advantage of the fact that his father was looking away, crawled to the corner which held the greatest taboo of all -- the telescope. And ... he peered into it!

              At first his eye focused on a ragged cobweb, but then gradually the eyepiece filled with the deep starry space of that devilish, fairy-tale thing, the void, which reveals to all of us, at least once in a lifetime, its nebulae through the penetrable darkness.

NB This is a working translation for educational purpose only.

Activities for use in school:

•  Read the visual story with the class and discuss each double page spread with them. Then try to define the most important moments.

•  In pairs, get the children to read the visual story again and to either make a storyboard (3-6 pictures) or to write 3 sentences which tell the story (Beginning /Middle/End)

•  They can then share their ideas with another pair and try to find the similarities between the stories.

•  Read the translation to the class and discuss the similarities and differences between the interpretations.

• Give each pair a copy of the translation and ask them to try to define the most important moments in it, as well as writing down any unfamiliar or unclear words and expressions.
• Discuss the pupil's findings, making sure that you include the classical opposition of the words light-darkness, and write them on the blackboard/flipchart.
• Pupils can then add other pairs of opposite words like owl-glow-worms, black-white, night-day, cold-hot etc.
• Discuss the importance of these words in creating the central motive of the story: the struggle between light and darkness.
• Discuss: What becomes clear to the owl in the pitch-dark night?
• Through careful questioning, elicit whether children have understood the story
• Focusing on the plot composition, get pupils to try to recognize, and put in order, the elements of classical composition:

Exposition: The owl who counts the stars and his dream

Trigger of the action: Preparing for the Arctic trip

Plot action: Meeting the fox, stray sheep, and bat

Climax: Arctic, biting frost

Denouement: Polar owl / journey home

• Discuss the definition of the owl's symbolic meaning ie he is the symbol of wisdom and knowledge. But on the other hand he is also the enemy of the light, i.e. the symbol of deceit and conservatism.
• Who is the “good guy”, who do they identify with?   (Often children choose the owl, who is eager to learn new things and counts stars, dislikes the light, is a figure that stands for inquisitiveness and eagerness for knowledge, tenacity, purposefulness, kindness, and goodness.)
• Discuss which are the owl's most valuable qualities in the story. Possibly inquisitiveness; eagerness to learn; persistence and steadfastness in difficult situations; his kindly, warm and sympathetic heart.
• Get pupils to try to relate this to their own good qualities, their dreams, their ideas of life, their desire to discover something unusual, etc.
• Get children in pairs to trace the plot of the story, draw a picture of it and discuss the circular element within it. (They might also like to write their own stories using this structure and the ‘opposing' vocabulary from the board).  
• Finally, discuss the fact that the young owl takes his father's bag and paternal telescope when he starts on his journey - a symbol of things that he is leaning from his parents. Get the children to contribute their ideas on what they have learned from their own parents and if they feel that ‘there is no place like home'.

Reflection: How much can children, whatever their origins, learn from their parents... and from each others mistakes?

NB Further literature and language-based activities can be found in
Picture Books sans Frontières available from tb@trentham-books.co.uk
or www.amazon.co.uk