Spiders and Flies


In addition to The Flowers of Evil, I have had a wealth of great reading material in the last few months. I bought Coraline for Ms Pope as a Hallowe'en present. It is a very quick read at 162 pages and by the night of Hallowe'en itself, I had finished a collection of ghost stories edited by Roald Dahl and picked up Coraline to read myself while handing out candy to trick-or-treaters.

Ms Pope had already warned me that it gave her nightmares (the good kind, I'm sure). Theoretically, this book is for young readers, say 14 or so, but it's one of Gaiman's scariest books I have yet read. Most of his books are kind of dark, but like with Anansi Boys, it's almost a farce.
Coraline is a young girl whose family has just moved to a new flat in an old house. There's a door from the drawing room that is bricked over if you open it. Maybe it once led to the other flat on that floor. But one day she opens the door and the bricks aren't there; there's a hallway that leads to what appears to be a mirror version of her family's flat. And in that flat, there's an Other Mother, an Other Father, there are Other versions of the neighbors that live in the real world. And everything is more interesting, the food is better, and they want her to stay with them. Forever.
When she goes back to her real world, her Other Mother responds by taking her real parents captive. Coraline has to go back and get them.

"Yes," she said. "I think I like this game. But what kind of game shall it be? A riddle game? A test of knowledge or of skill?"
"An exploring game," suggested Coraline. "A finding-things game."
"And what is it you think you should be finding in this hide-and-go-seek game, Coraline Jones?"
Coraline hesitated. Then, "My parents," said Coraline. "And the souls of the children behind the mirror."
The other mother smiled at this, triumphantly, and Coraline wondered if she had made the right choice. Still, it was too late to change her mind now.
"A deal," said the other mother. "Now eat up your breakfast, my sweet. Don't worry -- it won't hurt you."
Coraline stared at the breakfast, hating herself for giving in so easily, but she was starving.
"How do I know you'll keep your word?" asked Coraline.
"I swear it," said the other mother. "I swear it on my own mother's grave."
"Does she have a grave?" asked Coraline.
"Oh yes," said the other mother. "I put her in there myself. And when I found her trying to crawl out, I put her back."

Now, it is poetry and Mark Helprin's Winter's Tale. Winter's Tale is worthy of a long blog post on its own. It is absolutely beautiful, and utterly confounding.

What are you reading?

Posted: Fri - November 3, 2006 at 10:47 PM        

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