reading notes

by Neil Gaiman

illustrations by Dave McKean

ISBN: 0380807343

I did not consider black button eyes to be creepy or malevolent. Then I read this book, and marvelled at Gaiman’s ability to invest the everyday and ordinary with dark possibilities.

Coraline is a smart girl; she’s just moved into a new flat, the school year has yet to start, and she likes to explore. Like many smart kids, she’s bored. Her parents, ironically, are distant — though they work at home, telecommuting to the office.

Coraline’s world is small but well-drawn. There are her parents, the house, the surrounding grounds, and the neighbors and not much else. Well, there is the not-quite-right parallel world Coraline discovers when she unlocks the door to the bricked-up empty flat next door and the brick wall separating the units is gone.

The smallness of the world works because it doesn’t feel small; it feels right. Every detail fits, Gaiman makes things matter. For instance, he is wonderful with names. Coraline’s neighbors (who don’t listen well and call her Caroline) downstairs are retired actresses Miss Spink and Miss Forcible. They have dogs with names like Hamish. The upstairs neighbor is Mr. Bobo, and he is training a mouse circus. I mean, Mr. Bobo? Coraline thinks, “if she’d known his name was Mr. Bobo she would have said it every chance she got.” You know something has to be up with people like these.

The most interesting characters, as well as the spookiest ones, don’t have real names, though. There is the “other mother” and “other father” and the rats, and a disembodied right hand. There are also three souls and a cat. The only one with an explanation for namelessness is the cat. He tells Coraline: “Now you people have names. That’s because you don’t know who you are. We know who we are, so we don’t need names.”

The story is a puzzle, one that isn’t all that hard to piece together (the book is aimed at younger readers, after all) but the joy of it — if I can use the word joy about a creepy book — is in seeing the whole picture and letting yourself get a bit scared along the way as the pieces fall into place. You have to want it to happen; you can’t steel yourself against it, just like you can’t insist time travel or space travel can’t exist if you are going to enjoy much science fiction.

The story is also a bit bigger than that. There is humor to balance the fear, for one thing: when her parents go missing, Coraline tells Miss Spink “I think I’ve probably become a single child family.” Then there are the menacing yet nursery rhyme-like “songs” of the rats, which go without a full explanation and get stuck in your head.

Dave McKean’s illustrations (generally appearing one per chapter, plus the cover art) are angular, and seem to vibrate with a strange energy. They strike a balance between showing story elements and leaving the best parts to the reader’s imagination.

I have to say, the only thing I didn’t really like about reading this book was that I waited for the paperback to come out. Sure, it was only $6, but I’m thinking the quality is such that it isn’t going to hold up over the long term. I’m going to have to keep an eye out for a used or remaindered hardcover copy, because this is one I’m going to want to pull down off the shelf and read again. Maybe even to a kid, who knows. Highly recommended.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, October 1st, 2003 at 10:27 pm and is filed under young adult/children.