“Carrot Mansion”: How far can metaphors in picture books go?

In recent years, the cre­ative duo “He Chang Tuan” (Liu Chang, Zhao Fei, and their cat) has been gar­ner­ing increas­ing atten­tion in the field of orig­i­nal Chi­nese pic­ture books. They have con­sis­tent­ly pro­duced eye-catch­ing works and have gar­nered numer­ous awards and acco­lades. Among them, “Catch” and “Radish Man­sion,” pub­lished in the same year of 2023, are par­tic­u­lar­ly rep­re­sen­ta­tive. Both leave a deep impres­sion through their min­i­mal­ist visu­al expres­sion, while each rep­re­sents a break­through in a dif­fer­ent direc­tion. “Catch” employs a restrained visu­al lan­guage to tell a fable that blends real­ism and imag­i­na­tive nar­ra­tive; while “Radish Man­sion” inno­v­a­tive­ly incor­po­rates a rich palette of col­or and a com­plex group nar­ra­tive struc­ture, cre­at­ing a more pro­found and expan­sive sur­vival fable.

In the selec­tion and rec­om­men­da­tion of out­stand­ing orig­i­nal works for 2023, I often had to make a dif­fi­cult choice between these two works. In selec­tions that gen­er­al­ly pri­or­i­tize chil­dren’s inter­est, I would pri­or­i­tize “Catch,” while in selec­tions that pri­or­i­tize encour­ag­ing young read­ers to think and dis­cuss, I would pri­or­i­tize “Radish Man­sion.” The “light­ness” of the for­mer and the “heav­i­ness” of the lat­ter are their respec­tive strengths. I pre­vi­ous­ly wrote a long arti­cle titled “The Per­sis­tence of Cham­bers: Empha­siz­ing “Lit­er­a­ture” and “Fun” in Pro­mot­ing Chil­dren’s Read­ing,” which pri­mar­i­ly used my expe­ri­ence read­ing “Catch” with chil­dren as a core exam­ple. Here, I would like to use my read­ing expe­ri­ence of “Radish Man­sion” to con­tin­ue dis­cussing the pos­si­bil­i­ty of “break­ing through the frozen heart” through in-depth read­ing.

The most cap­ti­vat­ing aspect of “Radish Man­sion” lies first in its bold and inge­nious use of visu­al lan­guage and graph­ic nar­ra­tive. The strik­ing mono­chrome visu­al impact, the unique, tall and slen­der for­mat, and the whim­si­cal graph­ic fonts on the title page all quick­ly cap­ture the view­er’s atten­tion and draw them into the sto­ry. Set in a grass­land called “Gray Coun­try,” the sky and ground are paint­ed in a cold, gray­ish hue, high­light­ing the rab­bits’ oth­er­wise drab and gloomy sur­round­ings. The sud­den appear­ance of a giant radish, paint­ed in vibrant pink and green, cre­ates a strik­ing visu­al con­trast with­in this gloomy world. This col­or scheme cre­ates a spec­tac­u­lar and dra­mat­ic effect, cap­ti­vat­ing the read­er’s gaze with the “giant radish.” The work employs bold col­or con­trast through­out: the gray-black back­ground sym­bol­izes the drea­ri­ness of real­i­ty, while the Bar­bie-pink radish sym­bol­izes ide­al­ism and the allure of change. When the radish man­sion is com­plet­ed, the entire page is filled with bright, joy­ful, warm tones; when it col­laps­es, the scene returns to a gloomy gray. This cycle of light and dark col­ors intu­itive­ly enhances the emo­tion­al ups and downs from the rise of ideals to the fall of real­i­ty.

The illus­tra­tor has also put con­sid­er­able skill into the spa­tial com­po­si­tion and rhythm of the images. The book is broad­ly divid­ed into two major sec­tions: the con­struc­tion and col­lapse of the Turnip Man­sion. With­in each sec­tion, small­er struc­tur­al units are fur­ther sub­di­vid­ed, cre­at­ing a lay­ered nar­ra­tive rhythm. When the rab­bits dis­cov­er the giant turnip, a long shot is used: the lit­tle rab­bits gaze up at an enor­mous turnip from a hill­side. The stark con­trast between the rab­bits and the turnip vivid­ly con­veys the turnip’s enor­mi­ty and awe. This long shot estab­lish­es the sto­ry’s set­ting. Sub­se­quent images of the Turnip Man­sion’s com­ple­tion and its ruins use sim­i­lar per­spec­tives, rein­forc­ing the causal con­nec­tions between the sto­ry’s devel­op­ment. The image of the rab­bits and Turnip descend­ing a zigzag stair­case clev­er­ly hints at a sud­den down­turn in the plot, fore­shad­ow­ing the impend­ing down­ward spi­ral.

The graph­ic nar­ra­tive also con­tains many sub­tle details in the char­ac­ter pre­sen­ta­tion. For exam­ple, the bespec­ta­cled “Luotie” looks almost iden­ti­cal to the oth­er rab­bits, main­tain­ing the group effect. How­ev­er, the author uses phys­i­cal details to sub­tly dif­fer­en­ti­ate the char­ac­ters’ per­son­al­i­ties: for exam­ple, the one wear­ing a bow is the beau­ty-lov­ing lit­tle rab­bit, while the one with a beard is the vil­lage chief. Notably, after the con­struc­tion of the Radish Build­ing, the oth­er rab­bits become chub­by and plump, while Luootie remains rel­a­tive­ly thin. This visu­al dif­fer­ence clev­er­ly con­veys the metaphor between group enjoy­ment and indi­vid­ual per­se­ver­ance.

The Turnip Man­sion, the sto­ry’s core, also boasts a dra­mat­ic spa­tial lay­out: cross-sec­tions of its inte­ri­or resem­ble an open-plan doll­house, each room show­cas­ing the diverse lives and per­son­al­i­ties of its res­i­dents. This visu­al arrange­ment not only enhances the nar­ra­tive’s inter­est but also fore­shad­ows the sto­ry’s sub­se­quent unrav­el­ing. As the rab­bits reck­less­ly gnaw on the turnip-made fur­ni­ture, walls, and floors, not only does the entire man­sion become pre­car­i­ous, but it also clev­er­ly sym­bol­izes the uncon­scious con­sump­tion and destruc­tion of pub­lic resources by group behav­ior.

The metic­u­lous design of the visu­al lan­guage in “Radish Man­sion” is fur­ther explored in the “Cre­ation Notes” writ­ten by the He Chang Group. How­ev­er, what tru­ly dis­tin­guish­es it from most chil­dren’s pic­ture books and engen­ders ongo­ing dis­cus­sion is the rich use of metaphors through­out the work. The He Chang Group admits that their inspi­ra­tion stems from their obser­va­tion of the con­flict between mod­ern archi­tec­tur­al design and the real lives of its inhab­i­tants, and that “Radish Man­sion” rep­re­sents their metaphor­i­cal reflec­tion on this rela­tion­ship between ide­al­ism and real­i­ty. The bun­nies in the book rep­re­sent util­i­tar­i­an real­ists who unhesi­tat­ing­ly embrace imme­di­ate com­fort, while the pro­tag­o­nist, Radish, embod­ies the ide­al­ist who seeks to con­strain group behav­ior through ratio­nal design and rules. The author delib­er­ate­ly adopts an impar­tial nar­ra­tive stance, refrain­ing from forc­ing a clear dis­tinc­tion between right and wrong approach­es, instead leav­ing the dif­fi­cult choic­es to the read­er. This open-end­ed nar­ra­tive strat­e­gy imbues the work with a philo­soph­i­cal and spec­u­la­tive spir­it, mak­ing it appeal­ing not only to chil­dren but also offer­ing space for seri­ous reflec­tion and dis­cus­sion for old­er read­ers and adults.

In fact, “Turnip Man­sion” sparked some dis­cus­sion after its pub­li­ca­tion. The most obvi­ous ques­tion was whether its end­ing was too dark—the Turnip Man­sion ulti­mate­ly col­laps­es, and the rab­bits return to their start­ing point. Some felt that this end­ing was too cru­el for young read­ers. How­ev­er, I believe this is pre­cise­ly the point that deserves pos­i­tive dis­cus­sion. It touch­es on the del­i­cate bound­ary between depict­ing real­i­ty and ide­al­ized states in pic­ture books. On the sur­face, the book’s visu­al appeal and nar­ra­tive style clear­ly make it easy for young chil­dren to read, but it leaves the end­ing open, requir­ing old­er read­ers to pon­der and appre­ci­ate. In oth­er words, as read­ers gain more read­ing expe­ri­ence and life expe­ri­ence, they may encounter a com­plete­ly dif­fer­ent “Turnip Man­sion.”

From the cre­ators’ per­spec­tive, they focus their metaphor on the rela­tion­ship between ideals and real­i­ty, bold­ly pre­serv­ing the emo­tion­al expe­ri­ence of regret after shat­tered ideals. How­ev­er, this per­spec­tive may still only be par­tial. My read­ing expe­ri­ence of “Turnip Man­sion” inevitably reminds me of the clas­sic chil­dren’s nov­el “Rab­bit Repub­lic” (also trans­lat­ed as “Water­ship Down”). While the two dif­fer sig­nif­i­cant­ly in form and scale, both tell the sto­ry of a group of rab­bits’ col­lec­tive strug­gle for sur­vival and address the com­plex and intractable real­i­ties they face in their pur­suit of an “ide­al home.” In “Rab­bit Repub­lic,” the rab­bits search for a place where they can “sur­vive,” while in “Turnip Man­sion,” they face the prospect of “sud­den pos­ses­sion.” The for­mer is about escap­ing death, the lat­ter is about wel­com­ing a gift—two extreme exis­ten­tial sit­u­a­tions. Despite their dis­tinct plots and styles, both touch upon the fragili­ty of utopia and the irrec­on­cil­able ten­sion between ide­al­ism and real­ism. At the same time, both works high­light the sig­nif­i­cance of sto­ry­telling itself—stories serve as tools for cul­tur­al trans­mis­sion and as a medi­um for read­ers to reflect on their own real­i­ties.

Here, I’d like to reit­er­ate Aiden Cham­ber­s’s vision for deep read­ing for chil­dren in “The Sweet Words of Books.” He likens deep read­ing to “a sharp axe that splits the frozen sea with­in,” empha­siz­ing that read­ing is not just about receiv­ing infor­ma­tion but also a jour­ney through mul­ti­ple “time and space dis­tor­tions” of the mind and emo­tions. “Car­rot Man­sion” is a book per­fect­ly suit­ed for this kind of deep explo­ration. It does­n’t pre-set answers for read­ers, but rather leaves ample “nar­ra­tive gaps” for capa­ble and enthu­si­as­tic adult guides to lead chil­dren in deep­er explo­ration.

Let’s return to our orig­i­nal ques­tion: How far can metaphors in pic­ture books go? My answer is: very far, so far that they can reach deep reflec­tions on human social behav­ior and col­lec­tive psy­chol­o­gy. For exam­ple, this Bar­bie-pink car­rot build­ing might be a metaphor for our shared home: Earth. Humans, like those lit­tle rab­bits, face the joy of abun­dant resources, but also end­less com­pe­ti­tion and uncon­trolled con­sump­tion. And Earth itself, like that giant car­rot, ini­tial­ly offers us sur­pris­es and gifts, but ulti­mate­ly may col­lapse due to col­lec­tive greed and igno­rance…

For­tu­nate­ly, “The Radish Build­ing has become a sto­ry. A sto­ry that has been told over and over again…” Because of the pow­er of the sto­ry, we are for­tu­nate to see (you need to look care­ful­ly in the end­ing pic­ture to see it), on the gray grass­land, there are lit­tle rab­bits build­ing a mod­el of the Radish Build­ing with stones.

As long as there are chil­dren, sto­ries, and sto­ry­tellers who tell sto­ries to chil­dren with their heart, there is always hope.

Writ­ten in Bei­jing on June 25, 2025