Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book

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“The boundaries are always there—between the graveyard and the world beyond, between life and death, and the crossing of them.” – Neil Gaiman

In the world of sci-fi/fantasy, the hype has been über high for Gaiman’s latest creation, The Graveyard Book. Every review has been extra positive and full of praise. Between this novel and the upcoming release of the film version of the author’s Coraline, Mr. Gaiman seems to have holy light coming out of every orifice of his genius body. Not that I blame anyone for their praises; I’ll probably be first in line for the midnight showing of Coraline (Neil Gaiman + Henry Selnick * stop motion= sure excellence). However, all the hype was dimming my motivation to read the novel. I’m glad I decided to read it anyway.

The Graveyard Book details the early life of a boy named Bod as he grows up the only living person in an abandoned graveyard. When Bod was a baby, his family was murdered by a ruthless assassin clad in black and carrying a knife. Luckily Bod had wandered from his crib and into a nearby graveyard, and thus inadvertently escaped death’s clutches. The graveyard’s residents decide to raise the young child as their own (not trusting anyone to protect him well enough), naming him Nobody (Bod for short).

Bod grows up learning everything from 16th Century Writing to How To Fade, but despite his interesting education and living arrangement, he wants to be around those more like him—the living. With a supernatural assassin named Jack who refuses to give up, the unliving who watch over Bod prefer that the young boy stays close to home. The time comes, however, when Bod’s natural curiosity overcomes all else, and he ventures several times out into the world, causing Jack to eventually find the boy. The characters in the graveyard must band together to defeat the assassin before he can complete his mission.

image1_smallerPossessing a talent and imagination similar to perennial favorite Roald Dahl, Gaiman was meant for children’s lit. Like Dahl, Gaiman excels at truly creepy and imaginative children’s lit, which makes it great for readers who think they’ve outgrown the genre. These readers may be initially turned off by the illustrations that pepper the book, but I believe the illustrations add to the story. Illustrated by long-time Gaiman collaborator Dave McKean, the art is black/grey and white, rough but detailed, and slightly disproportionate in nature, adding to the spookiness of the tale.

Gaiman no doubt knows how to draw in an audience. He leads with short, active sentences that tell you exactly what’s going on. For example, the first line reads, “There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.” With such a concise and active beginning statement, the reader cannot help but be intrigued, wanting to read more, to find out why a knife is involved, who’s hand is holding it, and if anyone has yet died. Each of Gaiman’s sentences builds on the last, pulling the reader in, inviting her/him to learn more.

Beyond that, the tale is well-written. With his writing style, Gaiman can make any story race along, even when little is happening or the events don’t seem connected. Each chapter is its own, self-contained tale, but Gaiman still creates one big story—great for bedtime reading, each chapter can be read separately, but there’s still that sense of anticipation as you start the next chapter.

Character development leaves something to be desired, but I wonder if that is purposeful. Though a third person point-of-view, the action is seen mainly through Bod. As a child and the only living (and modern) person in the graveyard, he doesn’t really understand much about the other, long-dead residents, who range from a 17th Century school teacher to his undead guardian who is hinted to be a vampire. Whether intentional or not, the lack of characterization works well. It allows the reader to focus on the different tales, rather than the various characters in the stories. Each chapter is a different adventure for Bod, where he meets new and interesting (though stereotypical) people.

However, there are several more rounded characters. The aforementioned vampire for one, with another being the ghost of a witch girl who has a thing for Bod the teenager. Surprisingly, Bod’s own ghostly adopted parents play a only a small part in the overall story, though they do make appearances from time to time. Conversely, the assassin Jack, though in the actual tale very little, makes his presence known throughout the book. He’s always lurking in the background, around a corner and just out of sight. With Jack’s threat looming, Bod’s story cannot really be free of him, so even though little is known about the assassin, he still plays a major role in how the tale and its characters are shaped.

Overall, a great, easy, and fun but creepy read. I’d recommend it to anyone with a little time on their hands. Alternately, you can go to Gaiman’s website and watch/listen to him read the entire book for free.  Also, I’m adding the full front and back British hardback cover below. It is just too amazing not to show. Enjoy!

Age recommendation: 10/12+ (for creepiness)

Rating: 8.5 out of 10 stars

Reviewer: Meagan

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East – Edith Pattou

Have you ever had those vague memories of a movie you saw as a kid, but you couldn’t remember the name or much of the synopsis if your life depended on it? Well it happens to me quite a bit. Imagine my surprise when I read the blurb of Edith Pattou’s East and had a movie memory spring to mind. I saw The Polar Bear King as a child and remember loving it, but don’t remember much about the actual movie, apart from a polar bear who turned into a human by night and the girl who saved him from a witch’s curse. East reintroduced the story to me, and I’m not surprised why I liked it so much, as it’s very close to Beauty and the Beast, my all-time favorite fairy tale.

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Based on an old Norse fairy tale (East of the Sun and West of the Moon), East follows Ebba Rose, the youngest daughter to a 17th Century Norse mapmaker. Born to wander–literally, she was born facing North, making her a wanderer according to her superstitious mother–it’s no surprise that she is soon intrigued by a giant white bear who turns up near her home from time to time. One night, the bear visits her family, requesting that Rose become his companion. In return, her family’s recent dire straits–a sick sibling and a failing farm–will be reversed. Against her family’s wishes, Rose goes with the white bear to his castle in the side of a mountain. There she is cared for and given everything she wishes, including a giant loom where she weaves three extraordinary dresses.

Unfortunately, Rose’s curiosity gets the best of her and she is compelled to see the mysterious creature who visits her each night in complete darkness. Given a special candle by her mother, Rose sees her visitor for the first time–a  young man with golden curls and a sad face–and promptly loses him. As a child, the young man had a curse laid upon him by a troll king, dooming him to walk the days as a polar bear and the nights as a human, until he finds a maiden who can live with him for one year’s time without seeing his human face. Since Rose was one month shy of the one year mark, her white bear is taken “east of the sun and west of the moon” to the land of the trolls, never to see humans again. Rose being the spirited girl she is and refusing to let him be punished for her error, travels to the ends of the earth to release the man from his bonds. Being a fairy tale, I’m sure you know how it ends, but I won’t give away the specifics.

Pattou’s tale is an engaging read. Written in a slightly nontraditional format, the novel is narrated by five beings in turn–Rose, her brother Neddy, her father, the white bear, and the troll queen. Rose tells the main tale, with Neddy and her father chiming in with some background on the family. On the flip side is the troll queen’s story, written in journal format, giving a slightly sympathetic view of her character and the trolls in general.

Although all are well-written, I particularly enjoyed Pattou’s use of poetry for the voice of the white bear. I’m not much of a poetry fan, but poetry’s concise language and high use of imagery fits with how a human-turned-bear might think. The bear can speak to the other characters, but it’s extremely difficult for him, thus it makes sense that his human thoughts might also be slowed inside the brain of a bear. Even putting the bear’s narrative aside, Pattou does a wonderful job giving each character her/his own voice and perspective.

Another positive aspect of the book is the change in views on women from the original fairy tale. East of the Sun and West of the Moon tends to see women more as the pawns of politics rather than the makers of their own destinies. In Pattau’s version, however, the women make the majority of the choices (good and bad). In the original tale, the young woman is given to the bear by her father without much hesitation, and she accepts her new situation without a great deal of fuss. Rose’s character, however, leaves with the bear against her family’s wishes, but does not become complacent in her new life. She questions why she is there and who or what the creature is that comes to her room each night. She shows compassion toward both the night visitor and the white bear, but still wishes for her own comforts. When the white bear is taken from her, she does not hesitate to follow, even while knowing the journey will be next to impossible.

The troll queen, too, portrays a strong female figure. Far from portraying an evil sorceress, she is more a spoiled young princess who falls in love with the human prince whom she kidnaps. Her father, the troll king, curses the prince into the white bear and sends him away. Being a spoiled girl, the troll princess/queen could have spent her time moping and complaining, settling in with the fate she had been dealt, but she refuses, instead turning into a great leader and sorceress. She bides her time, waiting for the curse to end so that she may marry her prince.

No, the men are the true pawns in this feminist tale. The young prince, a mere boy, is turned into a bear before he knows what’s going on, Rose’s father loses his mapmaking business, and Neddy sits by watching his sister turn into a wanderer (all the while worrying about her). None of these men do much to fix their situations (though understandably there’s not much a cursed bear can do), instead letting the chips fall as they may.

As far as shortcomings, none stick out particularly for this tale. I’m not calling it a perfect book, but the overall cohesiveness of the story keeps any errors from rising to prominance. Perhaps a better critic than I could find the problems this book suffers from, but I enjoyed the story enough that I’d rather focus on the good. If you’re a fan of fairy tales and fantasy, you’ll love this book. If you enjoy multiple perspective narratives, read this tale. If you’re looking for a change in genre, this will be a nice little romp for you. If you’re wanting a history on 17th Century Norway . . . check out the non-fiction section of the library . . .

Age recommendation: 12+ or experienced readers

Rating: 7.5 out of 10 stars

Reviewed by: Meagan

The Blue Sword – Robin McKinley

Many a child dreams of going off to a foreign land to find they play a part in some exotic adventure. Kids want to be different. They want to be special. They want to have cool powers. They want to be accepted. This is what makes the Harry Potter series so inviting. One need not go to a special wizarding school to find adventure though. And one need not be an eleven-year-old British boy either. In the case of Robin McKinley’s The Blue Sword (a Newbery Honor book), all it takes is one awkward girl, a desert, hill people hidden from the rest of civilization, and a sword of blue stone.

Angharad (aka Harry) is a tall, inquisitive girl fresh from her green, forested blue-sword-picHomeland, thrust in the empty, dry deserts of Damar where her military brother (as her guardian) can keep a closer eye on her. Living with an older couple near the military base, Harry falls in love with the desert, feeling a kinship with it that she cannot place.

Though she gets along with the friendly families and soldiers who live there, she doesn’t quite fit in. One night, after a visit from the neighboring Hill king, Corlath, she finds herself abducted on the back of the king’s horse. Soon she is thrust into a new culture that, while exotic and strange, feels more like home to her than anywhere else she’s lived. She soon learns the language and way of life of the hill people, only to be once more thrust out of her comfort zone and into the world of war, becoming one of the King’s Riders. In the midst of this change, Harry learns her ancestry and her destiny, and finds her place in her new home among the hill people she loves.

While not a tale that keeps you on the edge of your seat, McKinley manages to hold the reader’s attention through Harry’s view of this new world. Her keen interest to learn about her new home, plus her amusing outlook of those she meets, creates a hard to put down book. Even though the tale includes magic, Harry is ultimately a well-grounded character, unwilling to believe what she is told about herself and the king who takes her away from her loved ones. She is wry and intelligent without being sassy or overly quirky. Stubborn and willing to challenge authority, Harry becomes a leader and authority figure, though she never sets out (nor wants) to be one. These traits make a believable, likeable, and fairly real character.

Young girls will enjoy Harry’s outlook and will look up to the character as a hero. Boys who can get past the fact that the main character is a girl, can take pleasure in the action scenes, war sequences, and the roles of the minor characters (many of whom are King’s Riders-very cool to any adventurer).

Speaking of minor characters, McKinley does a wonderful job of developing their roles past the point of many minor characters. Amazingly enough, it is Corlath, the other “main character,” whom the reader ends up knowing little about. Until the end of the novel, he is mostly an enigma who spirits Harry away for unknown, supernatural reasons. His character stays relatively within the realm of “Great King Whom Everyone Loves From a Distance.” Only in the last few chapters do we see him in a more human role.

On the other hand, several of the King’s Riders gain rather dynamic roles, along with a mysterious mountain dweller, and a sword (assuming the characteristics of its former owner). Most prominent is Mathin, the King’s Rider who becomes Harry’s teacher in all things war-related. In the beginning, he is a silent, formidable character who speaks to few. During the six weeks he trains Harry in the hills, the reader sees him develop into a more complex character who is intelligent, has a family he left behind to work with the king, raised horses, and knows much in the way of herbs and remedies. Far from being the wizard/mentor character however, he is still mostly a soldier at heart who loves his king, his country, and his sword.

While character building may be McKinley’s strongest suit, her expertise in building a scene and bringing the reader into it falls as a close second. From the beginning, the reader can see the rolling sand dunes and endless desert that Harry sees out of her train (and later bedroom) window. We can feel the heavy heat during a horseback ride. We can sense the mystery and magic in the air around the Lake.

I love description, but I won’t stand for wordy, extraneous detail. McKinley has found the happy medium-the reader can see the scene, but doesn’t feel bogged down by it, perhaps because McKinley depends on Harry for description, keeping the reader in the character’s head rather than standing bodiless in the scene.

One quarrel I have with McKinley’s classically written novel is the pace of the first third of the novel. On my first read it was not too noticeable, but on further readings, I found myself skimming Part 1 to get to the meat of the novel more quickly. Like many classic novelists, much of the first third of the book sets the tale up for the later adventure. While needed to really get a feeling for the story, I believe she could have edited out or cut down some of the scenes and internal monologues, as they may scare away some faster-paced readers.

The real weakness of McKinley’s writing, though, lies in her point-of-view, or lack thereof. While she tells most of the tale through the eyes of Harry, McKinley will randomly jump into another’s head, presumably to get a better idea of what is happening. Worse yet, McKinley does not even choose other main characters to help tell the story, but rather whomever is handy. Since Harry is a foreigner, perhaps the author felt the need to show what others thought of Harry’s arrival to their close-knit community. However, a good writer can make that happen without constantly jumping from brain to brain.

If one can make it through the first 80 pages and ignore the occasional jump to another head, she/he will be greatly rewarded with richly-drawn characters and scenes, along with a fascinating plot. One of my favorites of many years, I would recommend this to any book lover (especially lovers of fantasy or young adult fiction). Pick it up sometime soon-it’s a fairly quick and much-enjoyable read.

Age recommendation: 12+ or experienced readers

Rating: 8 out of 10 stars

Reviewed by: Meagan

The Book Thief – Markus Zusak

One of the most powerful wordsmiths I know, Markus Zusak finds his pace in The Book Thief. While his first novel, I Am the Messenger, is fantastically written and amazingly realistic, Zusak seems to do even better in portraying reality when his narrator is more otherworldly. Zusak’s poetic turn of phrase is best shown when used by Death to narrate the tale. His view of life is so alien to what humans see and know that it puts everything into a new perspective, which can make even horrible events seems beautiful, though heartrending.

The Book Thief takes place in WWII Germany and follows the growing years of Liesel Meminger, a foster girl living with an older couple who eventually hide a young, Jewish man in their basement. Liesel comes to the Hubermann household fresh off of the death of her younger brother and the loss of her Communist mother to the Nazis (though she only understands this later on). Death first meets the young girl during the loss of her brother, and the reader quickly learns he will meet Liesel three times during her life. Death takes an interest in her and, upon finding her autobiography, feels the need to tell her story to us. The tale follows Liesel as she meets her new parents, her friend Rudy, and the Jew (Max) who becomes her friend and confidant.

While wonderfully describing and developing the characters and story, Death focuses on stolen books as Liesel’s stepping stones in life. She stole her first book, The Gravediggers Handbook, at her brother’s funeral. At the time, she was unable to read, so this book became instrumental in her learning to read and in developing a close relationship with her foster father, who taught her to read in the early hours of morning. The second book was rescued from a book burning bonfire, and the third came from the town mayor’s library. Books become Liesel’s way of dealing with the world’s problems—and her own—and also her way of becoming closer to the people in her life.

Being an avid book reader, I greatly enjoyed the role books (stolen, gifted, and borrowed) play in Zusak’s novel, but the real draw for me was Zusak’s turn of phrase. His writing is so poetic and otherworldly that it’s easy to believe that Death really is narrating the novel. To Zusak, nothing is intangible. Sin feels scratchy, first words can have fingernails that dig into you, a voice can hook at a listener’s throat.

He also chooses not to use the usual words to describe scenes. As Liesel looks out on her town of Molching, it is described as being in a jar, and the mayor’s car is “slotted nicely on the side of the road.” This fresh writing could give life to the most dull of tales. Every strange turn of phrase made me smile a little, even if the moment was grave or sad. I couldn’t help reveling in the feel of the words in my ears (I chose the audio book for my second reading) and rolled them around in my brain for hours afterward.

Although the story is narrated, the book sometimes gives the impression of being a journal. In the midst of a description, there will be a line break on the page, followed by bolded, centered words surrounded by asterisks:


* * * A KEY WORD * * *
Imagined

or

* * * A NECESSARY EXPLANATION * * *
LSE
Luftwaffe Sondereinheit –
Air Raid Special Unit

as if the writer is making notes to himself for later readings. These annotations add character to the tale and fit well, despite that they may not seem to do so at first.

Despite the beauty of the writing and the tale itself, this book is not perfect. Very few, if any, of the characters have three-dimensional personalities, and many never go beyond a static nature. Of note are Liesel’s foster parents, Franz and Rosa Hubermann. Though highly entertaining, Rosa is always the high-strung, cursing, demanding butterball of a woman, and Franz never strays from the tall, silent, wise persona.

Still, the two- and one-dimensional characters do not detract greatly from the tale. Since the story is told by Liesel through Death, perhaps the characterizations make sense. Neither a young girl nor an alien being would have an easy time of seeing the complex personalities around them.

Overall, Zusak is a master of storytelling. The tale flows smoothly and completely. All is tied up in the end, which is the biggest hint that this was written for more of a younger audience. Still, adults will also find many things to love about this novel. I recommend it to anyone looking for something out of the ordinary.

Age recommendation: 14 yrs – adult (due to a liberal use of foul language)
Rating: 9.5 out of 10 stars
Reviewed by: Meagan