Sunday, February 5, 2012

nobody

Neil Gaiman is a genius.  I mean really, he, like David Almond, has a way of writing that makes me hate him.  Not because I don't love the story--I absolutely love both their stories--but because I was not the one to write them.  Yes, alright, that's a stupid way to think... I should be thankful they set the bar so high and that I can learn from them... yada yada yada and a yoyo.  But look, I'm not the only who thinks this.  Take Hemingway.  Well, the Hemingway from the film Midnight in Paris, anyways. 

Gil: I would like you to read my novel and get your opinion.
Hemingway: I hate it. 
Gil: You haven’t even read it yet.
Hemingway: If it’s bad, I’ll hate it. If it’s good, then I’ll be envious and hate it even more. You don’t want the opinion of another writer.

So you see, I'm allowed to hate my favorite authors just a little bit.  Anyways, on with the business!  I read The Graveyard Book last year (good God) and absolutely loved it.  Why did I not write this?  Well, that's all okay, because I actually make an appearance in this book.  Yes indeedy.  
Why is this book so great, you ask?  What do you think about it Liza?  Please tell us your opinions.  

...

Well, alright, since you asked so nicely.


The Graveyard Book is one of those books that I am simply thankful exists.  It does one of the things that a lot of children's literature attempts to do (and is often unsuccessful): it helps kids work through and deal with one of the most difficult aspects of life.  And yes, obviously I mean death.  By creating a world of the dead that is not only accessible by the living, but protective of it, he allows children another form of reassurance and comfort.  No, I am not saying that children who have lost a loved one should retreat into fantasy land and go and try to live in a graveyard.  That would not be fun.  Or particularly safe.  (Though now that I think about it--graveyards should be relatively safe, right?  What is the crime rate in graveyards?  Everyone's already dead...) I am just saying, the overall message of The Graveyard Book, and stories like it, instill in children a feeling of hope and safety. It gives the feeling that those who love us never really leave us (not sure if I'm quoting Harry Potter or The Lion King, but probably the former).  Anyways, it is able to make a difficult situation seem light and joyful. 

Moving on.  Now, you all know how important I think names are.  Katniss Everdeen... horrible.  Just, just... blechk.  Milkman from Song of Solomon... urgh.  I know Toni Morrison is amazing and believe you me, I have so much respect for that woman because she is an amazing writer... but gross.  Milkman.  Oh, he's named that because his mother breastfed him until he was about ten. Yeah.  Blechk.  And now that I'm talking about names, let me let you in on a little secret: it's not just the way the name sounds--you can tell a lot about a person based on how they spell their name.  Yes, this is slightly (alright more than slightly) judgmental, but let me be.  Just watch.  Or read.  

There was once a girl named Ashley who loved to put on makeup every morning.  

So, when I read that line, I see a girl (specifically one of the Ashleys from Recess) putting on an appropriate amount of makeup.  Now:

There was once a girl named Ashlee who loved to put on makeup every morning.
And now she is wearing much to much makeup for her face.  And dear lord, I hope no one reading this is named Ashlee.  You see?  Judgmental.  But, when writing a story, never would I ever give a character a name that ends in two e's if I wanted her to be a protagonist. 

But on to my real point:  Neil Gaiman has some awesome names in The Graveyard Book.  First of all, his main character is Bod--short for Nobody.  Nobody Owens is the main character.  I like this for a few reasons: first, it is way clever and just plain awesome.  Second: the people of the graveyard could have named him anything under the sun--Shakespeare, Napoleon, Winston Churchill, Obama... Ryan Gosling... But no.  Nobody is the hero.  Which could be anybody.  It doesn't take a person with a great name to be the hero of the story.  Any old Mike, John, Sarah, Katie, or Rachel could have done it. The villain is also done extremely cleverly--his name is Jack, and he is one of many... Jacks of all trades.  Gaiman has an extraordinary amount of fun with the name Jack, though I won't say more here because I don't want to give anything away.

Plus, there is a character named Liza Hempstock, so obviously I approve. 

I also am in love with this book because it is so understated.  It doesn't try to take control of the reader's imagination.  By this I mean we are not even sure what exactly Silas is.  Okay, yes, he is most likely a vampire, but I did not get that in my reading of the novel.  And I consider myself a fairly active and observant reader.  Somehow Neil Gaiman finds a way to combine beautiful descriptions with the ability to enchant the imagination.  By this I mean (okay, hold on to your hats) he does something J.K. Rowling does not.  He allows the reader to have more than one interpretation of a character or setting.  I say this because we are not even allowed to surmise the sexuality of one of the main characters or who each character ultimately marries in Harry Potter.  As cool as I think it is that Dumbledore is gay, or that Luna marries the grandson of Newt Scamander, there are some things better left to the imagination.  That Neville and Luna were madly in love, for example.   Rowling gave enough hints in her books to let everything lie... and not tell more tidbits of her story in various interviews.

AND not only is this book illustrated with gorgeous illustrations, but it is yet another book written by Neil Gaiman that made me almost picture the style of film used in Coraline and The Nightmare before Christmas.  Very cool.

And here's another (the last) reason I love this book: the writing is absolutely fantastic, and quite inspirational.  Check it:

When describing the place where ghouls live, Gaiman says this, "Even from the path below Ghulheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong--that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth.  It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the gears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone" (82).

A conversation between Bod and Silas regarding suicide:
"'Does it work? Are they happier dead?'
'Sometimes.  Mostly, no.  It's like the people who believe they'll be happy if they go and live somewhere else, but who learn it doesn't work that way.  Wherever you go, you take yourself with you.  If you see what I mean'" (104). 

A conversation between Bod and Silas after Bod comments he wouldn't mind being killed, as some of his "best friends are dead."

"Yes... They are.  And they are, for the most part, done with the world.  You are not.  You're alive, Bod.  That means you have infinite potential.  You can do anything. make anything dream anything.  If you change the world, the world will change.  Potential.  Once you're dead, it's gone.  Over.  You've made what you've made, dreamed your dream, written your name.  You may be buried here, you may even walk. But that potential is finished" (179). 

Bod, upon his final departure:
"'If I change my mind can I come back here?' And then he answered his own question.  'If I come back, it will be a place, but it won't be home any longer'" (304). 

The song that his adoptive parents sang to him as he grew up in the graveyard:

"Sleep my little babby-oh
Sleep until you waken
When you wake you'll see the world
If I'm not mistaken.

Kiss a lover
Dance a measure,
Find your name
And buried treasure.  

Face your life
Its pain, its pleasure,
Leave no path untaken" (306).

Go out and be happy you aren't dead.  I'm happy you're not dead.  Go and see a volcano, or a forest, or a little bit of grass that is growing through the sidewalk.  Or make a snow angel, depending on the weather.  


I think I just realized that my phobia of white space isn't a phobia at all... it's an itch created by a space of infinite potential that I need to fill.  Just like a blank page...

L.R. Ogden

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