Lon Po Po by Ed Young: Why This Red Riding Hood Retelling Still Terrifies and Inspires

Lon Po Po by Ed Young: Why This Red Riding Hood Retelling Still Terrifies and Inspires

You probably remember the Grimm version. A girl, a basket of goodies, and a wolf with surprisingly large teeth. But for anyone who grew up with Ed Young’s Lon Po Po, the story feels different. It’s darker. It's more atmospheric. Honestly, it’s a bit of a masterpiece in tension. Published in 1989, this "Red-Riding Hood Story from China" didn't just win the Caldecott Medal; it basically redefined what a picture book could look like.

Most people assume folk tales are just for kids. That’s a mistake. Ed Young, who sadly passed away in late 2023, knew that children can handle—and even crave—a bit of shadows. He didn't give us a cartoon wolf. He gave us a shapeshifter. He gave us a predator that feels dangerously real despite the abstract art.


The Visual Language of Lon Po Po by Ed Young

If you flip through the pages, the first thing you notice isn't the text. It's the layout. Young uses a panel technique that feels almost like a folding screen or a cinematic storyboard. It’s a genius move. By dividing the pages into vertical strips, he creates a sense of peek-a-boo. You’re looking through a cracked door. You’re seeing fragments of the wolf, which is always scarier than seeing the whole thing at once.

The medium is mostly pastels and watercolors. It's smoky. The colors aren't bright or cheery. They’re dusty blues, murky greens, and a lot of deep, oppressive shadows. When the wolf finally appears, he isn't a literal animal in every frame. Sometimes he's just a silhouette. Other times, his face is hidden by the darkness of the bedsheets. It’s all about the psychological weight of the "Po Po" (Grandmother) persona.

Young’s choice to use three sisters—Shang, Tao, and Paotze—instead of one solitary girl changes the entire dynamic. It’s not just about a victim; it’s about a collective response to a threat. Shang, the eldest, isn't some helpless child. She’s observant. She notices the wolf’s "hairy" face and his "claws" early on. The tension comes from her trying to outsmart a predator while her younger sisters are still vulnerable.

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Why the Panel Layout Matters

Actually, the panels serve a dual purpose. They reference traditional Chinese art formats, like scrolls, but they also mimic the architecture of a house. You feel the walls. You feel the enclosure. This isn't an open forest story; it's a home invasion story. That’s why it lingers in the back of your brain long after you’ve put the book back on the shelf.

Beyond the Wolf: What Most People Get Wrong About the Source

There’s a common misconception that Lon Po Po is just a Chinese translation of Charles Perrault. Nope. Not even close. While the "Red Riding Hood" archetype is a global phenomenon—what folklorists call ATU 333—the oral traditions in China have existed for centuries independent of European influence.

In many Western versions, the girl is saved by a woodsman. A man with an axe shows up and cuts the wolf open. It’s a deus ex machina. In Young’s version, there is no woodsman. There is no father figure coming to the rescue. The sisters have to save themselves. This makes the Chinese variant significantly more empowering and, frankly, more logical. If you’re stuck in a house with a wolf, you’d better have a plan.

The Gingko nut trick is the centerpiece of this version. For those who haven't read it lately, Shang convinces the wolf that Gingko nuts are "magical" and must be picked fresh from the tree. It plays on the wolf’s greed. It’s a classic trickster trope, but executed with such high stakes that it feels fresh. Young’s translation (he both wrote and illustrated this edition) keeps the prose sparse. "The wolf’s heart was filled with joy," he writes. It’s simple, but the art tells you that the "joy" is actually a terrifying hunger.

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The Artistic Legacy of Ed Young

Ed Young wasn't just an illustrator; he was a philosopher of the page. He often talked about how "the heart of the story" was what mattered most. With Lon Po Po, he was exploring the concept of the "inner wolf."

Interestingly, Young didn't start out as a children's book creator. He worked in advertising. You can see that influence in the way he handles composition. Every line has a purpose. There is no "filler" in his backgrounds. If a corner of the page is black, it’s because that blackness represents the unknown.

  • The Caldecott Win: When the book won the Caldecott Medal in 1990, it was a big deal. It signaled a shift in what the American Library Association valued—moving toward more diverse, atmospheric, and avant-garde styles.
  • Cultural Nuance: He didn't over-explain the culture. He just presented it. The mentions of the Gingko tree, the silk candles, and the specific family roles feel lived-in.

People often ask if the book is too scary for modern kids. Honestly? Probably not. Kids today deal with plenty of "monsters" in media. What Lon Po Po offers is a way to process fear through beauty. It teaches that curiosity and cleverness are better weapons than a huntsman’s axe.

Real-World Impact on Children's Literature

Educators still use this book to teach "Point of View" and "Comparing and Contrasting." If you compare this to James Marshall’s humorous version or the lush, Victorian illustrations of Jerry Pinkney, the differences are jarring. Young’s version feels like a dream—or a nightmare—that you're trying to remember.

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The book also stands as a pillar of Asian American representation. It doesn't treat Chinese folklore as a "foreign" curiosity. It treats it as a universal human experience. It's about the vulnerability of being left alone and the strength found in siblings.

Limitations of the "Retelling" Label

We often call these books "retellings," but that’s almost a disservice. To Ed Young, this was the story. He grew up hearing these tales. By the time he sat down to create the book, he was merging his childhood memories with his adult mastery of pastel. It’s more of an artistic reclamation than a simple retelling.

How to Approach Lon Po Po Today

If you’re a parent, teacher, or collector, don’t just read the words. Look at the eyes. One of the most haunting spreads is just a close-up of the wolf’s eyes through the darkness. It’s a lesson in "less is more."

  • Look for the textures: You can see the grain of the paper. This adds a tactile, earthy feel to the story.
  • Track the color shifts: Notice how the palette changes once the wolf is defeated. The world opens up.
  • Discuss the ending: It’s abrupt. The wolf dies. The sisters go back inside. There’s no long-winded moral. The survival is the moral.

Young’s work reminds us that the best stories don't need to be loud. They don't need bright, primary colors or fast-paced dialogue. They just need to be true to the human experience of fear and the triumph of the mind.


Practical Steps for Exploring Folk Tales

To get the most out of a masterpiece like Lon Po Po by Ed Young, it helps to look at the broader context of visual storytelling and folklore.

  1. Compare the variants: Find a copy of The False Grandmother, an old Italian/French version of the story. You’ll see fascinating parallels in how the "trick" is played on the predator.
  2. Study the medium: Grab some dry pastels and try to mimic Young’s "shadow-first" approach. It’s a great way to understand how he built tension without using harsh outlines.
  3. Explore Young's other works: Books like The House Baba Built or Seven Blind Mice show his range. He was a master of using different materials—collage, paper cutting, charcoal—to fit the specific "mood" of a story.
  4. Analyze the "Rule of Three": In folklore, things happen in threes. Three sisters, three attempts to climb the tree, three tugs on the rope. It’s a rhythmic device that Young uses to build a sense of inevitable doom for the wolf.

By focusing on the intersection of traditional Chinese motifs and modern psychological art, we can see why this book hasn't aged a day since 1989. It remains one of the most significant contributions to children's literature, proving that a "simple" picture book can be as complex as any novel.