The Graveyard Post

In which I ask that you please read the whole post before saying, "WHAT?!" and flaming me.

A confession: I did not want to like Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book.

Why?

1. I hated American Gods. I don't remember why. It wasn't a well thought-out criticism. Neil, if you are reading this, apologies. Please see above note about reading the whole post before hating me or feeling bad about yourself.

2. I thought maybe the Newbery committee had picked it as a "ha on you!" to all the people whining about recent award winners and popularity and blah blah we love to hear ourselves talk, wonder how many of us wouldn't give an eyetooth to win the Newbery blah blah blah.

3. The story-lady-in-training at my library read Gaiman's The Wolves in the Walls at preschool story hour this month. It's the story of a little girl who thinks she has wolves in her walls. Then it turns out, oh, she DOES have WOLVES IN HER WALLS and they kick her family out of the house to the street. Captain Destructo could be heard for days asking, "Wolves in walls?"

4. Bitter writerly envy.

Oh yes, I planned to hate it. But I had to read it, if only to gloat.

The book starts with a knife dripping with blood. By the end of the first chapter, the knife and the scary man holding it have brutally murdered an entire family except the toddler, who escapes to the graveyard.

REALLY?! And you people had a problem with "scrotum"??????

I was joyous.

And then I kept reading. And reading. And smiling.

Now Captain Destructo, as you might imagine, does not excel at staying asleep, or at falling back asleep once awakened. This is because these activities require being still, which is anathema to him. So the plan when sharing a room with him is this: sneak into the room well after he is sleeping, get to the bed without touching the floor, slide under the covers, and remain in whatever position you find yourself for the rest of the night without breathing, snoring, or adjusting no matter how numb you become.

Despite this, there I was, well after midnight, reading The Graveyard Book by nightlight, risking the sounds of pages turning and sighs of contentment.

Yeah, it's that good. It's so good I don't even hate it for not sucking. It's dark and delightful. It's a coming-of-age story that doesn't disrespect where the child's been. It's Dickensian in its characters and lovely in its language. You can find more detailed reviews here and everywhere, but my favorite is from emilyreads. And yes, the murder is scary, but it's also off screen and, well, I got over it and so will most kids.

When Tinkerbell is old enough, the first snow day she has, we're going to make cocoa and snuggle in bed and read the whole thing aloud together. I can't wait.