Sam Downing

Neil Gaiman writes in the preface of this short-story collection that the most important rule for any tale is that is must consantly answer the question: “And then what happened?” Because why would you keep reading (or listening, or watching, or whatever) if you don’t care about what happens afterwards?

Not all the stories live up to the rule (I won’t name names, but a handful are so uninteresting that surely they only made the cut because the writers are pals of Gaiman and co-editor Al Sarrantonio), though almost all of them do, and many exceed it. An everyday husband develops a taste of blood (and then what happened?). An elderly woman’s dead twin sister attempts to manipulate her way back from the grave (and then what happened?). A “retired” serial killer releases his victims before killing them… mostly (and then what happened?).

There are many other tales worthy of a mention, but including synopses of them all would make for a super long post, so I’ll just say: there’s a heck of a lot of imagination stuffed between the covers.

The stories range from chilling to funny to outright bizarre, from the very short to the very long, and while they cross genre lines there’s a touch of fantasy to almost all of them (not to mention a pervading theme of death). It’s such a diverse collection of superb writing that there really is something for everyone – assuming that “everyone” likes their stories black.

(PS: This is my first book review in ages not because I haven’t been writing them, but because I’ve been trying to learn French in the time usually allotted to reading. But then I went on holidays for a week and read like a mofo, so.)

The last time I reviewed a Neil Gaiman book I noted that his authorial voice is one that people seem to either like (usually a lot) or they don’t. But, I don’t get how you wouldn’t like it! His writing is conveniently tailored to fit my interests: it’s imaginative, clever, eerie and a little bit creepy.

Coraline, I think, I would’ve been into bigtime as a kid: I loved (and still love) stuff that was scary but not gruesome, and Coraline fits into that niche with classics like The Witches. (Sidenote: I must’ve read The Witches a hundred times as a kid. I subsequently developed a terror of women with seashell noses, and I can’t wait for Guillermo del Toro’s adaptation.)

Much like Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Coraline is about a young girl who ventures into a strange land, but where Wonderland is eccentric-creepy, Coraline’s otherworld is creepy-creepy. It’s ruled by the Other Mother, a sinister matriarch with buttons for eyes. Gaiman smartly declines to reveal too much about the origins of the Other Mother and her powers, or about the nature of the mirror world Coraline winds up in, and it’s the mystery that makes it spooky.

Also highly recommended: Henry Selick’s film adaptation of Coraline, which is also wonderful.

My copy of Coraline is part of the Bloomsbury Phantastics range, and includes several of Gaiman’s short stories. Some of them I’ve previously read, either online or in Fragile Things, but even the ones I’d come across before are definitely worth re-reading. The highlights are Sunbird, about an epicurean club whose members decide to eat a phoenix; October in the Chair, which ties nicely with The Graveyard Book; and Don’t Ask Jack, a genuinely unsettling tale about a spooky jack-in-the-box and its effect on the lives of the children who own it. (It’s one of the shortest stories in the collection, but also the scariest.)

I realise that at this point it’s cliche to profess one’s adoration of Gaiman, but: he is such a great writer.

I was chatting with a friend not long ago about Neil Gaiman’s writing style, and we agreed that his is an authorial voice you either like or you don’t: my friend doesn’t like it, but I do. A lot. Gaiman has a knack of adapting to whatever genre he’s writing in, but his work always has a sense of the very old, the very deep, and the very strange.

I started The Graveyard Book with high expectations, and wasn’t disappointed: Like all the best children’s literature, it’s wildly imaginative, seductively scary, and a sophisticated read for both kids and adults.

Loosely inspired by The Jungle Book, Graveyard is the story of a baby who escapes from the ruthless killer who’s murdered his parents, and escapes to a very old graveyard. Rechristened Nobody “Bod” Owens, he’s raised by the graveyard’s ghostly  inhabitants and encounters vampires, werewolves, witches and other beasties as he grows up. (The Guardian has a more detailed, though mildly spoilery, synopsis; I recommend going into it without knowing about the plot’s direction.)

It kind of reminded me of Harry Potter, if Harry Potter’s sprawling story was condensed into a single book: Graveyard has the same magical, captivating and adventurous tone. I felt really sad when I turned the last page, both because of the way the plot wrapped up, and because I’d finished a really great book.

Each chapter advances Bod’s age by around two years and stands alone as a story (more or less), making this a breezy read. If you never read anything of Gaiman’s before, this is a fine entry point.¹

Gaiman has proposed writing more books exploring the backstory of the Graveyard universe, but with a darker, more adult tone – a sort of “The Lord Of The Rings, to which The Graveyard Book would have been The Hobbit“, in his words. I want to read that book so bad. Right now. (Especially since the propects of a Graveyard Book movie aren’t looking so hot right now.)

1. After you finish Graveyard, try his short story collection Fragile Things. Then move along to American Gods and Anansi Boys, or maybe Coraline (which I haven’t read, yet, though the movie adaptation is stellar), if you’re looking for more “kiddie” stuff. I haven’t sampled Sandman yet, but I plan on getting to it one day. [↩]

I bought this one a few months ago but only picked it up over Christmas, after seeing the new Sherlock Holmes movie: it’s a collection of fanfiction¹ short stories written by prolific authors, exploring the famous sleuth’s “improbable” cases (a reference to his famous quote).

First impression: though the blurb indicates that the tales track Holmes’s investigations in the fantastic, many of the stories are relatively mundane. But this isn’t a bad thing – by “mundane” I only mean they’re set in the “real” world that Arthur Conan Doyle himself wrote in.

But the bulk of the stories are rooted in fantasy, as Holmes and Watson² confront Lovecraftian monsters, New Orleans pirates, dinosaurs, ghosts and other beasties. There are some absolutely cracking stories here – some of my favourites included Neil Gaiman’s haunting ‘A Study in Emerald’ (which is one of the best short stories I have ever read, period); Peter Tremayne’s ‘The Specter of Tullyfane Alley’; and Naomi Novik’s ‘Commonplaces’, which isn’t even one of the supernatural ones, instead offering a remarkable take on Holmes’s and Irene “The Woman” Adler’s reunion during his Great Hiatus.

(There are several other stories that I really really really loved, but if I include them all this post will turn out very very very long.)

If you’ve burned through all Doyle’s Sherlock stories and you’re looking for something fresh, absolutely pick up a copy of Improbable Adventures. I kind of want to go off and write a Sherlock fic of my own now…

And one last thing: I liked Sherlock Holmes (the movie), but Improbable Adventures – whose stories, while not canon, are generally written in a voice akin to the one Doyle lent Watson – highlights that Robert Downey Jr’s Sherlock is very unlike the real deal. Make of that what you will.

1. Actually, this is interesting. If a derivative story is written by a fan who’s also a professional author, does it cease to be fanfiction? Is fanfic defined by its amateur nature? [↩]
2. Best. Sidekick. Ever. [↩]