SOOOO…I finally fell! For weeks now, rather months, Neil Gaiman’s The Graveyard Book has been staring, rather glaring, at me from upon my bookshelves; screaming, as only a book can, “Read me now. NOW! Neil Gaiman wrote me. I won the Newbery—what more do you want? What have I done to you?” And there’s the thing—nothing. Nothing at all. Gaiman’s children’s lit has never really grabbed me. Sure, the art work is consistently great; Dave McKean’s work in Wolves in the Walls is phenomenal, but for the most part the stories leave me cold. This has always left me tortured, as I rate some of Gaiman’s work among my favorites: American Gods, Anansi Boys, Neverwhere, and the Sandman Series. And of course—Good Omens, Gaiman’s collaboration with Terry Pratchett. Here I must digress a bit…Pratchett was knighted at the beginning of the year. Congrats, Sir Terry! Also, as many already know, Pratchett was diagnosed with alzheimers last year; his bravery and dignity in this battle are inspirational. If you haven’t read Pratchett or his Discworld, you’re missing out—truly brilliant satirical wit. You can view his website at http://www.terrypratchettbooks.com/. Please do. Where was I? Gaiman, children’s lit, The Graveyard Book. Yes, yes, I finally read it.
There was a hand in the darkness, and it held a knife.
And there it is: the promised scary beginning. And fear-oh-fear, McKean is back—the knife drawn straight, held by a hand bearing no apologizes. Brilliant, I might like it! But wait…What? What’s that I hear? Oh, it’s a few reviewers bemoaning the current trend of scary children’s lit. Hello? We’ve been scaring children for ages! Ever hear of Brothers Grimm? If not, here’s a link: http://www.nationalgeographic.com/grimm/index2.html. It’s super fun. You can go through different links to get to different stories…all filled with the cutting off of digits, gorging out of eyes, and, not to be missed, parents mistreating their children. Yes, Gaiman starts off with murder, three murders to be exact; there was to be a fourth but somehow the man named Jack missed the baby that crawled out the front door and straight into a cemetery. But hell’s bells fun, the boy gets to live with ghosts and his guardian who is neither of the living nor the dead, in a cemetery, no less.
My favorite part…his name. Nobody Owens. Gaiman has stated that he based the idea of The Graveyard Book on Rudyard Kipling’s The Jungle Book (skip Disney and read the original), which is obvious, but I have to believe that the spirit of E.E. Cummings smacked his way into Gaiman’s head and said, “give my anyone and noone a baby…and let him dance his did.” Does the world not revolve around E.E. Cummings and his poetry? Yes, it does. And really, Nobody? It fits so perfectly with Cummings’ anyone lived in a pretty how town. I could go on about this connection a bit but instead I’m posting the poem below and would like to hear your comments on weather you see the connection or if I suffer, alone, a sick Cummings addiction. But…oh…I can’t shut-up…both the book and poem plead—live.
And Nobody, called Bod by his friends, does. But the man named Jack is still out there and Bod is only safe if he stays in the cemetery with his family of ghosts in the cemetery; however, the man named Jack is not the only danger to Bod. Anyone who has survived childhood knows it comes with a few bumps and bruises along the way, most of them self-inflicted. Each chapter, a story within itself, sees Bod age two years and as such he is faced with a different aspect of growing up. This is where The Graveyard Book shines. I don’t know if I related to it more looking at it through the eyes of a parent or remembering my own childhood. Gaiman skillfully blends fantasy and reality as Bod is forced to confront adolescence: bullies, developing friendships, the tedium of education, and stretching the bounds of parental control…throw in a werewolf, a few ghouls, maybe a vampire, a jack or two, and a beautiful dance between the living and the dead and you enter Bod’s world; you’ll want to stay there. And like Liza, you’ll want Bod to stay there, too, “Us in the graveyard, we wants you to stay alive. We wants you to surprise us and disappoint us and impress us and amaze us. Come home, Bod.”
How I want to say that to my daughter. Do you hear that, Bridget, come home! But you can’t because now it is time for you to surprise and amaze the rest of the world; time for the world to impress and occasionally disappoint you but it is all yours. That is what The Graveyard Book left me with…the bittersweet beauty of growing up, the trepidation of goodbyes, and the optimism of journeys to come. Gaiman did it this time; he caught me. Often as children, the world of reality coincides with the world of fantasy (okay, for some of us that continues into adulthood) and Gaiman’s cemetery full of ghosts, ghouls, and witches captures perfectly the wonder of the world to a child. I thoroughly enjoyed The Graveyard Book, Gaiman’s dark humor, and Mckean’s spot-on illustrations and would recommend the book to ages ten and up, even younger if a parent wants to take Bod’s journey with their child.
The Graveyard Book rates 5 out of 5
And as promised, of course…
anyone lived in a pretty how town by E.E. Cummings
anyone lived in a pretty how town by
(with up so floating many bells down)
spring summer autumn winter
he sang his didn’t he danced his did.
Women and men (both little and small)
cared for anyone not at all
they sowed their isn’t they reaped their same
sun moon stars rain
children guessed (but only a few
and down they forgot as up they grew
autumn winter spring summer)
that noone loved him more by more
when by now and tree by leaf
she laughed his joy she cried his grief
bird by snow and stir by still
anyone’s any was all to her
someones married their everyones
laughed their cryings and did their dance
(sleep wake hope and then)they
said their nevers they slept their dream
stars rain sun moon
(and only the snow can begin to explain
how children are apt to forget to remember
with up so floating many bells down)
one day anyone died i guess
(and noone stooped to kiss his face)
busy folk buried them side by side
little by little and was by was
all by all and deep by deep
and more by more they dream their sleep
noone and anyone earth by april
with by spirit and if by yes.
Women and men (both dong and ding)
summer autumn winter spring
reaped their sowing and went their came
sun moon stars rain
