The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale

Written by Ovila Fontaine

Illustrated by Charlotte Parent

Translated by Ann Marie Boulanger 

Orca Book Publishers 

978-1-4598-4180-2 

56 pp.

Ages 6–8

October 2025 

 

Many of us are getting into the holiday spirit and putting up Christmas trees or thinking about getting one. Perhaps that's why I've put off reviewing this lovely new picture book until there's snow on the ground and a nip in the air. 

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

Ovila Fontaine, an Innu Elder from the First Nation of Uashat mak Mani-Utenam on the northern shore of the St. Lawrence River, won the 2024 Governor General award for his French-language edition, Le premier arbre de Noël. That lovely book has now been translated into English and more young people will have the opportunity to read a story of the Great Manitou choosing the fir tree to bring brightness during the cold, harsh winter.

The Great Manitou begins his search for the perfect tree. For each of the trees he approaches, he recognizes positive attributes, knowing how each tree is used by the Innu. There's the birch tree with its flexibility and strength, useful for snowshoes, bowls, harpoons, canoes, and drums. There's the larch (tamarack) tree with its hard wood and usefulness for bows and sleds, and more medicine made from its bark. The Great Manitou also visits the black spruce whose mossy branches provide firewood for the Innu and food for caribou. The only tree he disregards is the fir tree.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

When the Great Manitou approaches the birch tree, the larch tree, and the black spruce, he asks them if they'd like to be the first Christmas tree and bring joy to Innu children. Each tree declines, only concerned for how it might affect them. Finally, with the fir being the only tree left to ask, the first Christmas tree is found, and the other trees are chastened by the Great Manitou and given attributes that characterize them to this day.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

Though many of us will recognize the fir as the most popular Christmas tree, Ovila Fontaine's tale shows us that that recognition was hard-won. Like many things in life in which your potential is not seen or disregarded, timing can be everything. For the fir tree, it was being in the right place at the right time, and being open to an opportunity, something the other trees were too egotistical to embrace. More importantly, each tree that declined the honour of being the first Christmas had consequences thrust upon them by the Great Manitou, censured for their lack of generosity and humility. And though most of the trees showed pride and minimal grace, Montreal illustrator Charlotte Parent makes all the forest and its animals glorious. Using gouache, she creates these expansive scenes of woodland life, flora and fauna. The dark and cold of winter is expertly achieved with lavender blue and variations thereof and with brushstrokes for mounds of snow. The infrequent but bold pink of the animals—described in an illustrated glossary of English and Innu-aimum words—and persons indicates the rich presence of the spirit of the Great Manitou in the natural world and its omnipresence.

From The First Christmas Tree: An Innu Tale, story by Ovila Fontaine, illus. by Charlotte Parent

An enchanting book for the holiday season, The First Christmas Tree is a different kind of origin story. Not only do we learn the Innu tale of how the fir became known as a Christmas tree, but we also learn why the birch loses its leaves in the fall, why the larch sheds its needles, and why the black spruce never grows tall or wide and has prickly needles. With its quietly dazzling artwork, it's a picture book to be appreciated beyond the Christmas season.

 

• • • • • • • 

 

Le premier arbre de Noël

Ecrit par Ovila Fontaine

Illustré par Charlotte Parent

La Pastèque  

978-2-897771492 

2023 

 

 

The Walrus and the Caribou

Written by Maika Harper

Illustrated by Marcus Cutler

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-256-7

32 pp.

Ages 5-7

2019

This traditional Inuit origin story from actress Maika Harper and illustrator Marcus Cutler reminds us of the richness of the storytelling tradition, the source of Maika Harper's tale, and the breadth of its narration on revealing culture, history and people.

From The Walrus and the Caribou by Maika Harper, illus. by Marcus Cutler

When Guk was breathing life into the world, she pondered how the different parts of the animals should be organized. The walrus was generated when Guk blew air into her sealskin parka and added some flippers and wrinkles and antlers. (Yes, antlers.) The caribou was created from breathing life into her sealskin pants. With the addition of some big hooves and hair, a snout and tusks, her caribou was complete.

From The Walrus and the Caribou by Maika Harper, illus. by Marcus Cutler

But Guk's enhancements did not all work. The walrus's antlers were not a good idea. When the walrus swam, its massive antlers would upend the hunters' kayaks. As for the caribou, its tusks were not much appreciated by the hunters.

In a mix-and-match situation, Guk swaps out the tusks and the antlers, creating the familiar walrus and caribou of today's Arctic, with a special touch of punishment for the caribou because of its irritability and brashness.

From The Walrus and the Caribou by Maika Harper, illus. by Marcus Cutler

Though Maika Harper tells a simple tale of how the walrus and the caribou came to exist in their present morphologies, she also explains why the caribou avoids humans and encourages young readers to think about what animals they might create. With illustrator Marcus Cutler's Arctic landscape, depicted in a minimal palette of snowy whites, of earthy sandy browns and taupes, and of blue waters and skies, the walrus and caribou and Guk and the few hunters portrayed are the stars. They rule the landscape, living as they do, and sharing the land and water as tradition expected them to do so.

The Walrus and the Caribou may be a creation story with some tongue-in-cheek humour but it is also a representation of some Inuit traditions and culture, from the Inuit's clothing and hair to their kayaks and hunting techniques.  This tale will definitely inform and satisfy young readers, especially by answering, at least partially, that perennial question about where animals came from.

Takannaaluk

Written by Herve Paniaq

Illustrated by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Inhabit Media

978–1-77227-181-2

32 pp.

Ages 5-9

November 2018

In another outstanding Inuit origin story picture book from Inhabit Media, Igloolik elder Herve Paniaq tells the haunting tale of the mythological mother of the sea mammals, Takannaaluk, also known as Nuliajuk and Kannaaluk.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Though her parents wish her to marry so there would be another man around to help out, their only daughter refuses all those who ask her and so she is called Uinigumasuittuq, the one who never wanted to marry. Men appear, though they are animals such as the caribou and the bearded seal transformed into persons, and she refuses them all. When a very tall and handsome man, seated in his qajaq and wearing snow goggles, calls to her, she goes with him. It's not until much later in their journey that she sees he has been sitting on a stool and his legs are very, very short and he has scary red eyes. She realizes she has been tricked as he is a fulmar, a type of seabird, transformed into a man but he refuses to let her go back to her parents. Uinigumasuittuq has no choice but to go with the man and learn how to be his wife.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

But then her father, who'd been so adamant about marrying his daughter off, decides to bring her back home and away from her horrible husband. When the husband pursues them, Uinigumasuittu's father ridicules his son-in-law who transforms into a fulmar, flying in such a way to cause the winds to pick up. Her angry father throws Uinigumasuittuq into the water and, as she clings to the side of his boat, he chops at her fingers with his knife. Where her fingers fall, seals appear.

From Takannaaluk by Herve Paniaq, illus. by Germaine Arnaktauyok

Her father, guilt-ridden at his actions, kills himself by drowning in the encroaching tides and Uinigumasuittuq, lost to the water, becomes known as Takannaaluk which means "the one down there" and becomes feared and revered as the legendary mother of the sea animals.

Herve Paniaq's retelling of this Inuit myth has the richness of great storytelling. There are villains and victims, choices and consequences, conflict and resolution. But this origin story becomes extraordinary with the illustrations by Germaine Arnaktauyok. I have always believed picture book illustrations are works of art but Germaine Arnaktauyok's images should be in art galleries. They are gorgeous, rich in colour and shape, culturally relevant and wholly appropriate for a story from the Arctic, making Takannaaluk bewitching as well as edifying.

The Origin of Day and Night

Written by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt

Illustrated by Lenny Lishchenko

Inhabit Media

978-1-77227-180-5

36 pp.

Ages 4-8

September 2018

In these days of daylight savings, the story of The Origin of Day and Night feels all the more relevant. For those of us in southern Ontario, complaining about how early it gets dark seems like an annual event–though, of course, this would be accentuated in the north–but what of animals who prefer only daylight or only nighttime for their activities?

At the very beginning of time, there was no light on earth. Darkness surrounded everything. Only nocturnal animals, those who could see in the dark, could easily hunt for food. (pg. 2)

From The Origin of Day and Night by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

Tiri, the Arctic fox, was one of those nocturnal creatures, hunting those and from those that slept. When Tiri celebrated the darkness by calling out, "Taaq, taaq, taaq! Darkness, darkness, darkness!" the darkness remained because things that were spoken aloud could become real.

From The Origin of Day and Night by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

But Ukaliq, the Arctic hare, who could not see in the dark, wondered what would happen if she called out, "Ubluq, ubluq, ubluq! Day, day, day!" And there was light in the world.  Tiri was not pleased. In a dance of light and day, the two animals call forth their preferred illumination so they might hunt or nap, finally agreeing on giving each other sufficient time to find food before the other changed the light in the sky.

And so, Tiri and Ukaliq used the power of their words to bring the sun up into the sky and then to make it set. Taaq brought darkness and ubluq brought day. (pg. 28)

Nunavut author Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt continues to share her Inuit history and culture through her storytelling just as she did in The Legend of Lightning and Thunder (Inhabit Media, 2013) which was shortlisted for the Canadian Library Association's Book of the Year for Children. Likewise, she wraps the origin story in The Origin of Day and Night in a mesmerizing story of conflict and resolution between Arctic animals.  But, by bringing to light the natural history of the Arctic, specifically the feeding and behaviour of the Arctic fox and Arctic hare, as well as the activities of the humans who hunt and store their meat to keep it safe from those such as the fox, Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt encourages learning of different cultures and environments, honouring the traditional Inuit belief embedded in The Origin of Day and Night beyond the tale itself.

Because of the nature of the story, Lenny Lishchenko's illustrations are far different from those in Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt's first picture book. Ukrainian-born Toronto artist Lenny Lishchenko plays up the dark vs. light conflict and balance with powerful images, always focusing on the animals and their need for light or dark. By juxtaposing the two, at play as the animals call forth the sky light they require, her illustrations are playful yet resolute and always revealing of their Arctic home.

From The Origin of Day and Night by Paula Ikuutaq Rumbolt, illus. by Lenny Lishchenko

A simple story told with mighty text and illustrations, The Origin of Day and Night enlightens about beginnings, people and place.