In the decade before the Normanpedia appeared and all and sundry decided to slavishly copy John Sibbick’s  work, Giovanni Caselli’s illustrations for Halstead’s The evolution and ecology of the Dinosaurs were often held up as the gold standard. Or so it would seem, based on the number of imitators. (Incidentally, did you know that there is a greater timespan between my review of the Halstead book and now than between Tyrannosaurus and humans?) This week’s example is Usborne’s Children’s Encyclopedia of Prehistoric Life, first published in 1985, and then published again and again in many different guises…which included a Russian edition published by Rosman, first in 1996, with this edition arriving in 1999. These images were submitted to me by Alexander Guridov, who later sent scans of the English version, but by then I’d already adjusted and uploaded the images and I couldn’t be bothered to do it again. So here you go!

Here’s the cover of Usborne’s book. To be honest, I’d rate it higher than the Rosman version, which is below (in a photo provided by Alexander’s mum. Bless). It’s a more exciting composition and the artwork is of a higher standard, even if the early humans on Usborne’s cover aren’t quite as impressively ripped.

Both books feature the same artwork (inside, anyway) by Bob Hersey. I hadn’t heard of Hersey (for shame!), but he would appear to be a highly accomplished illustrator of a wide variety of subjects, covering various natural history topics and dinosaurs specifically on a number of occasions. It’s perhaps best not to judge his work here too harshly, for as we always say, a jobbing illustrator in the early 1980s didn’t exactly have an abundance of reference material to hand, and publishers would even sometimes demand reproductions of another artist’s work. To be fair, most of the illustrations here aren’t outright copies, but the Caselli influence is strong – as can be seen right from the contents page.

For some reason, the Rosman version of this book has a contents page in both English and Russian. The title on the English page, including “In School and At Home” (presumably the series it was slotted into), is a direct translation of the Russian; I wasn’t able to find an English version online with the same title. This is teaching me a few things about the Cyrillic alphabet, I can tell you.

Naturally, the book covers a lot more than just the dinosaurs, but as we’re lovin’ in the time of chasmosaurs on this blog I’d rather focus on Mesozoic life…at least, for now. I thought I’d start with the image that will prove the most exhausting for me to hammer out words about, which is the below. There’s a lot going on!

It should be noted that the text doesn’t necessarily imply that all of these animals lived together – rather, it’s a demonstration of different dinosaur lifestyles and the way that they fought each other and defended themselves. In the inset box, retro-tastic tail-dragging Camarasaurus and Iguanodon hang around among the trees, but it’s the classic short-tailed squatting Scolosaurus that steals the show; a creature immortalised by a bizarre-looking life-sized model by Wolter Design that has popped up in visitor attractions around the world. In the scene below, a grumpy-looking Stegosaurus looks on as Euoplocephalus clobbers an unfortunate Deinonychus, its legs bent out into a horribly uncomfortable-looking position and its face frozen in an entirely apt expression of horror. Behind them, another Deinonychus chases a pair of Hypsilophodon (which seemed to happen quite a lot in old kids’ books, in spite of the two not being contemporaries), while three retro Polacanthus loiter in the background. At least the Polacanthus‘ legs are upright here – no Blackgang Chine-style sprawling (that model is still there, you know). Glorious stuff, made all the better by the conspicuously Caselli-esque touches, like the rounded ridges over the eyes of the animals.

Oh, and on the right a Tyrannosaurus attacks an Alamosaurus. Wonderfully dynamic and exciting, with animals that are suitably muscular and energetic for the 1980s, even if it’s unclear what exactly is going on with the Alamosaurus‘ hind limbs. That might have something to do with the Caselli piece that likely inspired it.

Unfortunately, there isn’t anything quite as exciting in the rest of the dinosaur section of this book, which mostly just profiles various different animals. Ornithischians are given a spread that includes a pair of Caselli-alike headbutting pachycephalosaurs and a rather statically posed 1970s-style Corythosaurus that reminds me of that model kit that was being flogged around the time of the first Jurassic Park. The highlight of this page, though, is surely the central Triceratops, which is not only wonderfully pre-Renaissance in its warty, tail-dragging rotundity, but also has the kind of wobbly lumpen jaws that instantly suggest ‘grandpa’ to me. I love it.

On the opposite page, that show-off Parasaurolophus gets a page almost to itself. While obviously a rather retro take for the time (webbed little hands!), Hersey can be commended for giving the animal hoof-like toe claws and an overall form that hangs together very well; one can easily envisage the skeleton that would fit inside this creature. It also has a nicely bulging gut and a well-observed head. It’s not too far removed from Sibbick’s version in the Normanpedia.

By the way…is anyone else reminded me of The Lost World: Jurassic Park merchandise when they look at those silhouettes on the right? I swear they used a Stegosaurus silhouette that was exactly the same. With apologies for already mentioning The Franchise twice in this review that has nothing to do with it.

Sauropods are naturally also given a spread, with Brachiosaurus taking the starring role. Unfortunately, they’re described as largely water-dwelling, which is very retrograde even for the time. On the other hand, while Hersey’s brachiosaurs are shown standing around in a somewhat swampy setting, they aren’t snorkeling like they’re in an old Burian painting. In fact, they aren’t immersed at all. They do have rather saggy skin and oddly snaky necks, which definitely aren’t the result of the artist drawing the body first and needing to fit the neck into the frame. Particularly striking here is the Caselli-like head in the lower right, which is like a beakless Corythosaurus noggin attached to a rubber hose. All very retro for the 1980s, but also beautifully painted and, again, the artist’s natural history credentials are evident.

I can’t really say so many kind things about these Apatosaurus. They at least have correctly triangular-shaped heads. Other than that, they are resolutely retrograde hump-backed flesh mountains. Of course, my ’90s childhood has primed me to dislike retro ‘brontosaurs’. Blame Dougal Dixon and the good people at Orbis.

Unusually, theropods don’t receive as much attention as ornithischians and sauropods, although of course Archaeopteryx gets a special mention. It sports a classic vibrant blue-and-yellow colour scheme (before SCIENCE RUINED EVERYTHING) and, naturally, apparent extra fingers that don’t make sense. There’s also a close-up of its head with teeth that keep going, and going, and going, like a hollow dinosaur toy from back in the day. It looks like it’s smiling in a fashion that suggests it’s rather pleased with itself. I don’t approve.

And finally…pterosaurs! The 1980s was truly the decade of nighmarish pterosaurs, as exemplified in works by the likes of Stout. Here, a Burian-like illustration of Pteranodon flaplings on a cliff depicts them with wings resembling those of desiccated carcasses, or RFK Junior’s face, or my face during the current European heatwave. If you thought the adult wasn’t so bad (and it isn’t), don’t worry – the Dimorphodon above are suitably nightmarish. They look like they could be dancing in Satan, er, Chernabog’s palm in Fantasia.

The fun continues on the opposite page. Believe it or not, the mummified corpses in the top right are Pterodactylus. They look like they’ve emerged from the wrong part of the 1980s British Museum. Rhamphorhynchus, bottom left, fares considerably better, even if it’s still rather emaciated. Of course, I mostly included this page so that I could mention the Quetzalcoatlus. Look, it’s Caselli’s extremely hypothetical 1970s Quetzalcoatlus that was based purely on the description “big pterosaur”! I’m very happy to see it again.

That’s enough for today. Would you like to see more of this book? Perhaps the mammals? Let me know!