The Graveyard Book Graphic Novel,
Volumes 1 and 2. By Neil Gaiman. Adapted by P. Craig Russell. Illustrations
by Kevin Nowlan, P. Craig Russell, Tony Harris, Scott Hampton, Galen Showman,
Jill Thompson, Stephen B. Scott and David Lafuente. Harper. $19.99 each.
Bruce Coville’s Magic Shop Tales.
By Bruce Coville. Houghton Mifflin Harcourt. $34.99.
Neil Gaiman’s strange and
wonderful The Graveyard Book (2008)
has spawned a strange and differently wonderful graphic-novel adaptation that
incorporates Gaiman’s words, abridged and modified by P. Craig Russell to fit
the graphic-novel format, and features illustrations by Russell and seven other
first-rate artists. Published as a two-volume hardcover set, this adaptation is
costly and is clearly intended to stay on bookshelves for a long time to come –
and deserves to. Gaiman’s story of a boy whose entire family is assassinated by
a mysterious man named Jack, and who flees the scene of butchery to seek and
improbably find solace amid the ghosts in a nearby graveyard, is a tale of
old-fashioned wonder, a creepy, thought-provoking, occasionally amusing canvas
peopled by people long dead and by creatures that are people-shaped but are
really something else. The marvelous thing about Russell’s adaptation is how
clearly it hews to Gaiman’s story while enriching it through illustrations that
effectively highlight the tale’s visual underpinnings. There are little touches
of strictly visual humor here and there: for example, in Russell’s illustrations
of the chapter in which the boy, named Nobody Owens by the denizens of the
graveyard, meets a girl his own age, Scarlett is seen sitting on a bench,
reading – and what she is reading is Life
magazine. The wry humor of Gaiman’s original is here, too, as in his giving
ghouls such names as the Duke of Westminster, the Bishop of Bath and Wells, the
Emperor of China, and the 33rd President of the United States; and
in the wonderfully fairy-tale-like chapter called “Danse Macabre” (illustrated
by Jill Thompson), in which the living and dead temporarily, joyfully and
mysteriously interact. The frights are present as well: in the murder scene of
the opening chapter (illustrated by Kevin Nowlan entirely in dark colors,
except for the bright red blood); in the chapter with the ghouls (illustrated
by Tony Harris and Scott Hampton), showing the bizarre, almost Lovecraftian
city of Ghรปlheim; and in the
cruelties of the purely human world, especially in “The Witch’s Headstone”
(illustrated by Galen Showman) and “Nobody Owens’ School Days” (illustrated by
David Lafuente).
The multi-artist approach does
have some weaknesses, as the appearances of Bod’s guardian, Silas, of the ghost
witch, Liza, and of Bod himself, all change disconcertingly from time to time –
a particular issue when it comes to the supernatural characters, since one of
Gaiman’s points is that for those in a graveyard, nothing will ever change
again (one reason the dead agree to help raise Bod to adulthood). A notable
example of this issue occurs in the first volume, in the final panel of the
chapter that ends on page 108 and the splash panel of the chapter starting on
the opposite page, 109: Bod abruptly changes from an anime-inspired,
large-eyed, wide-mouthed youth with an almost feminine appearance to a much
more realistic-looking boy of the same age. It is also worth pointing out that
some notable aspects of Gaiman’s story, such as the death of Miss Lupescu, have
less impact in the graphic novel than in the original. These, however, are minor
matters in the overall excellence of the visual presentation. The adaptation
does not try to gloss over the few weaknesses of the original, such as the
eventual explanation for the murder of Bod’s family – a reason that readers
could not have anticipated and that comes so far out of nowhere that it seems
to have been grafted onto an otherwise taut and well-told tale. The fact is
that The Graveyard Book Graphic Novel
enhances Gaiman’s novel in some ways even though it is somewhat less effective
in others, inevitably playing up some points and playing down others because of
the need to compress and illustrate what happens. These are the pleasures and
perils of any adaptation to graphic-novel form – and in this case, the
resulting work is a masterly one that, for those willing to spend $40 for it,
will be a highly welcome addition to a collection of tales of the weird and
wonderful.
The Magic Shop books by
Bruce Coville are considerably milder and, by design, a great deal more amusing
than The Graveyard Book, but they are
just as delightful in their own way as Gaiman’s novel is in its. Paperbacks of
all five are now available in a slipcase edition quite suitable for gift-giving
or simply for rediscovering these delightfully offbeat fables – or discovering
them for the first time. They are The
Monster’s Ring (1982, revised 2002); Jeremy
Thatcher, Dragon Hatcher (1991); Jennifer
Murdley’s Toad (1992); The Skull of
Truth (1997); and Juliet Dove, Queen
of Love (2003). The connective tissue among the books is one of those
quintessential fairy-tale devices: a magic shop that really is magic and really
does contain magical objects, but that can only be found when people really need
to find it – or it really needs to find them. The proprietor is, of course,
enigmatic if not downright spooky, and his name is Mr. Elives (pronounced
“mystery lives” – what else?). In all the books, the kids who visit the shop
get just what they have coming to them, whether they know it or not; in fact,
they do not know it at first but come to know it eventually – whatever “it” may
be. In the first book, Russell
Crannaker, victim of bullies at school and at home, finds himself bullied (so
he thinks) into buying a peculiar green ring that can give him a way to stop
bullies forever – if he dares to take it. The shortest of the books, The Monster’s Ring was updated by Coville in 2002 to fit more
neatly with the later ones, notably by the author’s addition to it of two
talking rats that he had not actually introduced until the third book, Jennifer Murdley’s Toad. The second of
the Magic Shop books is the best known: Jeremy gets a strange egg from the
magic shop, soon discovers that it hatches into a creature with which not even
his father, a veterinarian, could possibly be familiar, and learns as the
dragon grows just how much he and it need each other. In the third book,
Jennifer, who has always longed to be pretty, somehow leaves the magic shop
with an especially ugly toad that, however, can talk – and that eventually
helps her confront her fears and discover that there is more than one way to
have a beautiful life. The skull in the fourth book gets into the hands of
habitual liar Charlie Eggleston, who discovers that it lets him say only the truth, no matter how painful
that may be for him and those around him. In this book, Coville produces the
very apt and thoughtful statement, “You can have truth, or you can have mercy.
…Generally you cannot expect both.” Finally, Coville has shy Juliet Dove be
given a magic-shop amulet that makes her irresistible to everyone she meets –
and that she only begins to understand when Jennifer Murdley’s rats show up to
help her figure out what is going on and why. The biggest problem with the
Magic Shop books, as young readers will likely realize after reading them, is
that there aren’t any more – Coville has since moved on to other topics, albeit
ones with similar mixtures of silliness and depth. The complete Magic Shop set
is no bargain – bought individually, the paperbacks would cost $34.95 – but families
that do not already have the books should certainly consider getting them this
way, neatly slipcased and presented with all the elegance they deserve (that
is, some, but not too much).
Individually and together, they are delightful to read – and more
thought-provoking than their continual bouts of humor make they seem at first
to be.
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