The plot is archetypal Gaiman: an unsuspecting ordinary person (this time an infant) wanders into an unfamiliar and magical but not unappealing otherworld (this time an abandoned graveyard) where he learns just as much about himself as about his new surroundings.
Given the fact that I've read enough Gaiman books to identify this pattern, I suppose it's obvious I'm a fan. I had an inkling I would like this book before I cracked open its spine.
And I did like the book. So did the folks at the American Library Association (ALA), who rewarded the book their respected John Newbery Medal for singular children's literature. I can't quite reconcile myself to the thought that Gaiman, who one wrote a devilish story in which Snow White, a vampire-waif who seduced forest men for access to their blood before she married the necrophiliac Prince Charming, now joins the ranks of Beverly Cleary and E.L. Konigsburg as one of our country's foremost youth raconteurs, but that's how it is. Who'd have thought?
So, I liked the book, and some other people did, too. But despite the trophies it has amassed in the near-year since its release, the Newberry being only the most prestigious, I'm not convinced that Graveyard is Gaiman's masterpiece.
I have two prime complaints.
Complaint No. One:
The book's introduction is brilliant. (I know that doesn't sound like a complaint, but stick with me.) In the introductory chapter there is an unorthodox marriage of picture and prose.
First, on black paper, there is only a knife, a hand, and a few words. Flip the page. There, on white paper, you'll find the knife, the hand, the body they're attached to, and a few more words. Flip the page. Now you'll find the knife, the hand, the body, the stair they're all climbing, and a larger block of words. Flip the page again, and you're on to all-out prose.
Article comments
1 - Lou Novacheck
Excellent review, and right on all counts. I've been a Gaiman fan since his Sandman days, and even his worst book is infinitely better than most of the dross out there.