It is a Herculean task to transform a novel into a picture book, especially when it’s a Canadian classic. Tundra has attempted it with Maria Chapdelaine, beautifully illustrated by Rajka Kupesic, but the result calls the abridgment into question.

Maria Chapdelaine, living on a remote Quebec farm, must decide between three suitors. At first, she chooses out of love, but when her fiancé François dies in a snowstorm, she has to settle for either the man who promises her a life of ease in an American city or the man who represents more of the hard work and brutal climate she’s always known. When her mother dies, Maria takes the dutiful path so she can care for her young siblings.

Not a plot with guaranteed child appeal. The heroine is an adult from the distant past. This is not an insuperable challenge; the Our Canadian Girl series, for example, bridges the chasm of time by allowing readers to share the heroine’s emotions. Maria Chapdelaine, however, is abrupt and disjointed; in paring down the novel, most of the internal reflections have been stripped away. We never learn, for instance, what made François more lovable than the other men. Consequently, Maria’s actions seem undermotivated, and it’s hard to care about her fate.

Rajka Kupesic’s naïve sculptural figures, by contrast, are engaging. Her monumental women are reminiscent of Michelangelo’s statues, their breasts stuck onto their muscular frames. These timeless paintings, full of busy, happy peasants like Bruegel’s, who inhabit a landscape of rich earth tones, are almost enough of an excuse to abridge the novel.