Tweaking and Sociopathy for Kids

Little Tricker the Squirrel Meets Big Double the Bear

by Ken Kesey

New York, NY: Viking, 1990.

Finding this book on the shelf at the library was an experience all its own. Take a good look at that cover. Really look at it. Imagine seeing only the top half of it. Those eyes. Those horrible, all-too-human eyes! Those are not the eyes of one of Goldilocks' three bears. Those bears do not hate like this bear hates. This is a stone cold killer, waiting for you to let down your guard. This will not end happily!

Then, after pulling the book off the shelf (the eyes compelled you to), you see the name of the author; yes, yes it is that Ken Kesey. The only person who could write a children's book this bizarre. You know, the same Ken Kesey who wrote One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, and drives around in a real life "Magic School Bus":

"Navigate a nostril... spank a plankton too!"

The inside of the book is every bit as crazy and horrifying as the cover advertises. The bear on the cover is the titular Big Double, a monstrous brute who wanders through the woodland equivalent of a trailer park, eating every one of the creatures he meets, all of whom appear to be destitute and possibly addicted to drugs (at least, that is the effect of Barry Moser's illustrations). Each resident Big Double meets tries to escape him by a challenge of abilities, which the bear matches just before eating them whole. Big Double, by the by, bears a passing resemblance to another famous Ken Kesey character.

Note the Cap...

The protagonist of this story is Little Tricker the squirrel, whose primary redeeming feature is his ability to make a fool out of Big Double. Tricker only seems to have two main motivations: laziness and hunger. Until his meeting with Big Double, his only real struggle is between warring impulses to go get food to store for the winter, or to take a nap. Mostly, the nap wins. Incidentally, Tricker looks very much like he could be on meth-amphetamines, which makes him just about the most realistically depicted squirrel in all of children's literature.

As promised, the story ends awfully. In order to escape, Little Tricker lives up to his name, and tricks Big Double into leaping over the side of a wooded hill, where he then "splatters on the hillside like a thumping ripe melon". Certainly, this book is not meant to be read aloud to kids, right? Except that, like The Talking Eggs, Little Tricker is best enjoyed for its rich and highly accented language, which can only be really appreciated when it's performed.

With all that in mind, I would highly recommend this book for anyone looking to read a good modern variation on the classic trope of little people fending off scary animals. The language is violent in a way that few childrens' stories are, and it takes a certain amount of judgement to decide what the appropriate age is. Take heart, however, because with that glaring cover, it's unlikely any child is going to pick this book up unless they are comfortable with Big Double's gaze in the first place. For that alone, they should be congratulated (and probably feared just a little).

The Outer Darkness is a Delicacy!

The Monster Who Ate Darkness

by Joyce Dunbar; illustrated by Jimmy Liao

Cambridge, Mass. : Candlewick Press, 2008.

Move over, Shoggoth, here comes... The Monster Who Ate Darkness is a charming tale about a horrible little creature from under a little boy's bed, who eats all of the darkness in the universe, leaving nothing but a wasteland of stark, unforgiving light in its wake. Thankfully, the story has a happy ending, but not until many adorable tears have been shed.

Jo-Jo is terrified of darkness, fearing that there are monsters lurking in the shadows and beneath his bed. Naturally there is one; just a speck of a thing who is cute and cuddly and not at all terrifying when we first meet him. The Monster is hungry, and soon discovers that the only thing that will satisfy his appetite is darkness (note: "darkness sandwiches" = best lunch ever). So he does Jo-Jo a favor, and starts devouring all the darkness in the room.

You got nothin'!

However, his hunger is so immense that he ends up eating all the darkness, everywhere, disrupting the natural order of things and leaving all the animals confused. The monster becomes lonely, lost on a far planet in the stark light of an empty universe, until he hears Jo-Jo weeping in the distance, unable to sleep for lack of darkness. The monster returns to the boy, and holds him, singing him a "darkness lullaby" (which I imagine must sound something like this). As the darkness oozes out of a cone in his head, he shrinks back down as Jo-Jo falls asleep in his arms, until finally the story closes with the boy sleeping with the now-tiny monster nestled in his arms.

This story can be appreciated on a number of psychological levels. For one, it turns nighttime into an adventure; still full of monsters, but comforting in its own way. So, definitely a bedtime story for the kids who don't want to stop believing, but still need a decent night's sleep. The monster isn't evil, just hungry and oblivious, which makes his antics adorable even as he pulls the stars down from the sky. Jo-Jo, meanwhile, restores the natural order of things by embracing his inner darkness (thus, a supervillain is born! haha...). The illustrations are equally enchanting, in many ways telling a story all their own. Artist Jimmy Liao has a talent for drawing the cute with the horrible in the same breath, and the monster is truly a blend of both as he transforms from a kittenish little mite to a bloated monstrosity (also cute), and back again.

A Little Like This...

---

On a side note, I came across this interesting quote from the Q&A section on Joyce Dunbar's website:

"There's also too much cuteness for my liking. I write cute stories myself but this reflects what publishers accept rather than my range as a writer. But this really is a golden age of children's books and you can't expect to publish only the best."

This is part of Dunbar's response to a question about whether she had any complaints as a writer, about publishing and about being a children's author. I personally feel that it speaks to the sort of stories we like to talk about, here at SB/SC; things that break out of the mold, and might be a little frightening, provocative or challenging than what we typically find on the children's shelves of libraries and bookstores, things that are thrilling, and maybe a little more dangerous than cute.

More Dangerous than Cute

The things that make a story compelling are not always things that are comforting, and I worry at times that many of us shy too quickly from introduction our children (or the children around us) to fear in tiny doses. Not that I think we should go around scaring the tuna salad out of toddlers just to see them cry, but an important element in facing fear is the consequential feeling of empowerment we are left with afterwards, once we realize that we have outlived our momentary fear and become stronger for its passing. Children learn more than mere vocabulary from the stories we give them, they learn to live with complexity, ambiguity, distress; and in the end, maybe, they learn to sleep at night by holding the things they were once terrified of closest to their hearts.

PS: If you're looking for more about The Monster Who Ate Darkness, there's a great, thought-provoking review in The New York Times. Enjoy!

Tails, You're It

The Tailypo: A Ghost Story
Told by Joanna C. Galdone
Sandpiper, 1984

Using a misappropriated or a stolen item to build the suspense in a story is a common one in scary books for youth. A character either purposely or unwittingly comes into possession of an item, article, or appendage and the rightful owner of said item, article, or appendage slowly but certainly seeks revenge. Sometimes this revenge is with not so savory results. This storytelling framework is the one employed in a classic children’s scary picture book called The Tailypo: A Ghost Story. Whether or not this is an actual ghost story or just a scary story (for I feel the creature seeking its tail is not necessarily a ghost) can be debated, but nonetheless, this is a smooth and suspenseful tale for young schoolchildren.

The story opens with a lone woodsy cabin. We meet our main character, an elderly man, who lives a hermit-like existence deep in the forest with his three hounds. He lives simply and self-sufficiently. He seems to be a worn out shadow of a once rugged woodsman, the type that is honest, not inclined to superstition, and hearty to the core. After he hears a strange creature in the woods and scratching outside, and eventually in his own cabin, the woodsman strikes out to abolish the creature but instead only cuts off the creature's tail; his tailypo. From this point onward the tale crescendos with the creature calling out in a spooky verse for his tailypo until we fall upon a silent, yet telling scene in the final pages.

The Tailypo is a classic example of a spooky American folktale. The setting, the characters, the tone, and the illustrations are evocative of Appalachia or the Tetons. The rhythm of the tale makes it a great read aloud and storytelling piece. I would venture to guess, since versions of this story have been told for decades, that the first author of this tail didn't see Zombieland. The rules created by Columbus for zombie invasions definitely apply here. Had our woodsman executed rule #4, the doubletap, on our frightening critter instead of just chopping off his tale we would end up with a cheerful woodsman donning a tailypo skin cap and lounging with his hounds instead of an empty cabin and a possibly still at large demonic being roaming the forested mountain range. Well, in any event, it is a delightful little spooky story.

Spaghetti, Squash, and One Hungry Spook

The Ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam
By Angela Shelf Medearis
New York: Scholastic Press, 1997

In this book, as can be the case in scary stories, the spookiest part is the anticipation. We get worried about the suspense and get overwhelmed with fear of what happens next. Or as our character Chef Dan from The Ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam might say, we get caught up in a plot that thickens like standing fatback in a fry pan.

In this story, a brave chef takes up the challenge to spend the night in a haunted house. It is told that in this house lives a horrible ghost and anyone who can spend the night in the house without fleeing will rid the house of the ghost forever. To sweeten the deal, the realtor in charge of the house offers a hefty reward for anyone who can cleanse the property of its supernatural resident. Dan enters the haunted house hopeful and excited, with an armful of groceries to keep him cooking throughout the night.

The storyline builds rhythmically and quickly in this picture book. In the style of short stories like What Do You Come For? and Me Tie Dough-ty Walker! (both short folktales retold by Alvin Schwartz in Scary Stories To Tell in the Dark), the ghost of Sifty Sifty Sam appears piece by piece. With each turn of the page, we see a new incarnation of the spook and a more intense feeling of fear registers with our beloved chef. As we get closer and closer to seeing the entire ghost, the suspense builds and readers wonder what will be Chef Dan’s fate upon meeting the ghost in full form. While the first face-to-face meeting shows a cowering chef and a very intimidating ghost, readers will be surprised by Dan's craftiness as he appeases the spirit and the two forge a friendship in a light-hearted and silly climax.

The watercolor illustrations in this text do a wonderful job of representing the soul of both Chef Dan and Sifty Sifty Sam. Dan is wrapped in warm layers of whites, yellows, browns, and pinks. Sifty Sifty Sam is portrayed with cool blends of blues, whites, grays, and black. Throughout the book you will notice this contrast between the ghost and Chef Dan. This artistic element plays upon the underlying theme of the differences in the realm of the living and the realm of dead. Overall I think this was a fun and quick picture book that would be appropriate to share with children of varying ages.

Our Eyes Glow in the Dark... with Love!

While You are Sleeping

by Alexis Deacon

New York : Farrar, Straus and Giroux, 2006

The imagery in While You are Sleeping gives me what I can only describe as warm chills. The inside cover flap is papered over with your standard (normally innocuous) collection of toys and stuffed animals, except that some of them appear to be floating creepily, and they are all staring directly at you. The vague sense of friendly dread this imagery instills is a great emotional summary of the rest of the book, which has a touching, even heartwarming story even as it is subliminally unnerving.

The story itself is touching, and multilayered. On surface it is a story of reassurance, a letter written in the second person to a child from her toys. They stay awake, protecting you from nighttime terrors as you sleep. Of course, the idea of all my toys coming to life when I was a kid, even to protect me from things I was afraid of, would itself have inspired fear. On top of this, there is a story of indoctrination; there is a new toy (the cuddliest little lion), who must pass muster to remain part of the group. He does, of course, but what would they have done if he failed? I shudder to think.

This book sits in a position of delightful ambiguity. Though I have called attention to the strangeness of it, I should also make clear that the characters are endearing, in a soft and understated way. The illustrations are very warm, with a classic fuzzyness that makes you want to give them all a hug. Overall, this book is absolutely perfect for reading under a blanket, with a flashlight, just before bed. Just try not to look to closely at the eyes, glowing golden in the night...

Not Your Parents' Monster Mash

Boogie Knights
by Lisa Wheeler; illustrated by Mark Siegel
New York : Atheneum Books for Young Readers, ©2008

Boogie Knights is a delightfully silly book, and more than a little deranged. A young prince wakes to find his castle of full of terrible monsters and creatures of the night... all of whom are dancing! One by one, the seven knights who guard the castle are drawn into the party, only to be swept up in the merriment themselves.

The best part of this book is its visual musicality. The imagery begins in gray scale, but as each knight succumbs to the urge to dance, the pages become splashed over with colors and laughter. In the end, everyone ends up dancing the night away; and the seven knights return to their posts drenched in color, while the little prince sleeps with a smile on his face.

Lisa Wheeler and Mark Siegel (who worked together before in Seadogs: An Epic Ocean Operetta) explain the motivation behind the creation of this book far better than I ever could in this handy little video:


Enjoy the momentary tingle of fear, then go dancing!

She's Tough. She's Brave. She's 75.

The Little Old Lady Who Was Not Afraid Of Anything

by Linda Williams

Illustrations by Megan Lloyd

Harper Collins, 1986

The weather is cooling, which means fall is in our midst. This is my favorite time, with pumpkins on my balcony, gourds on my counter, walking my dog in the graveyard across the street to see the colors, and harvest stories and scary tales leading up to Halloween. For the little ones just getting into the spirit of the season and spooky tales, here is a friendly yarn about a gallant granny and a pumpkin head spook.

The Little Old Lady Who Was Not Afraid of Anything is a story that focuses around a brave little woman and a scary entity she meets in the woods on her way home from collecting seeds and herbs. Having walked a little too far to gather wild nuts and seeds, it is a dark and lonely walk back home for the little old woman. As often happens on these scary solo treks, she happens upon frightening figures. She first meets a suspicious pair of animated shoes, then pants, then a shaking shirt, on and on until she meets the frightening piece de resistance, a great and ghoulish pumpkin head. The culmination of the creepy clothing and the putrid pumpkin head put quite a fright in the once brave old woman and she runs home. When the being comes knocking on her door later that night readers will see how even a horrible scare can rejuvenate one’s bravery and even instill some creativity and ingenuity.

I chose this story for its simple style. It is just the right length for afternoon reading time at home or morning story time for preschoolers in class or at the library. This book focuses around the common motif of visibly constructing the story line as the plot rolls along. This is a useful tactic in picture books for pre-readers because it allows them to make predictions about what comes next. It reminds me of the story the Old Woman and Her Pig or the The Teeth in the way the events crescendo into the climax. The repetition of the events in the story help support a child’s ability to see how parts of a story relate together and it gets them excited about what will happen at the end. “Two shoes go clomp, clomp, and one pair of pants go wiggle, wiggle.” “Two shoes go clomp, clomp, and one pair of pants go wiggle, wiggle, and the shirt went shake, shake.” This type of storytelling allows children to remember the events more clearly and also to participate in the story telling with the “clomp, clomp” and the “wiggle, wiggle” type verse. The illustrations in this book are stylistically simple and as such, fit in very appropriately with the text. Despite the fact that mostly simple lines and primary colors are used, the artwork pops. The tone of the illustrations is not too frightening for a young audience. Overall this is a nice quick reading little picture book.

Brains at Every Single Meal, Why Can't We Have Some Guts?

Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich
by Adam Rex
Harcourt, Inc., 2006

It is most certainly impossible to not fall madly in love with monsters after reading Frankenstein Makes A Sandwich (byline: And other stories you’re sure to like, because they’re about monsters, and some of them are also about food. You like food don’t you? Well, alright then.). Author/illustrator Adam Rex, utilizing the literary art of poetry, presents a creative anthology of monster stories.

The title poem of the book sets the pace for rhymes that effortlessly roll off the page and off the tongue. The liquidity of the text throughout the book makes it quite a lyrical read-aloud as well as an enjoyable treat for solo reading. “When Frankenstein prepared to dine on ham-and-cheese on wheat, he found, instead, he had no bread, (or mustard, cheese, or meat).” Some other characters featured throughout the book include the Invisible Man, Dr. Jekyll, the Yeti, and the Phantom of the Opera, to name a few. Some of the characters appear once, and some are featured a few times. For instance, the Phantom of the Opera has a few poems dedicated to him for his inability to get catchy tunes out of his head while he tries to compose his arias (my personal favorite when he can’t get “The Girl from Ipanema” out of his head). The poems in this book create silly scenarios, such as spinach remaining stuck in Dracula’s fangs because everyone is too afraid to tell him its there. Possibly better yet, these poems are a wealth of valuable information, such as suggesting one to make a hat out of carrots so zombies will abstain from your brain.

To complete a poetry collection as varied and bizarre as this, Rex created accompanying illustrations that are purely magical. Paying homage to famous illustrators of children’s literature throughout the book, such as Richard Scarry and Tony Diterlizzi, he showcases a diverse color and style palette. The variations of media to represent the different personalities of each creature was an act of simple beauty. Vibrant colors, detailed ink drawings, and shiny black and whites are a few of the impressive artistic techniques employed. Overall, this book is the perfect marriage of silliness, gentle gore, flowing text, and smooth illustrations. I think children will delight in this book and quite simply, gobble it up. Just like Frankenstein did with that molding heap of unsavory edibles. Bon appétit!

You've Been Laminated!

The Librarian From the Black Lagoon
by Mike Thaler
Pictures by Jared Lee
Scholastic Inc., 1997

Being young and curious about the world is a great thing. But sometimes, with that curiosity there is fear. Fear of the unknown. Fear of the possibilities.

In a cautious and kooky picture book, The Librarian From the Black Lagoon, author Mike Thaler introduces young children to a new adventure; going to the library. There are rumors afoot. Horrible, cruel, and disturbing rumors of a monstrous librarian with a beastly personality who glues children to chairs, laminates them if they talk, and entices them with a “petting zoo” of porcupines and piranha fish. Abandon all hope, ye who enter here. With such a wicked librarian loose in the stacks, all who enter must wonder, will they ever come back alive?

Exploring fear of the unknown and taking that concept to a silly extreme, Thaler produces a picture book that plays right into a child’s psyche. Children swap stories, funny and horrific alike, and utilizing this tool of the bubble gum set, the author creates a tale that exploits the stereotype of the shushing librarian and the vulnerability of a grade school age child. I think most of people can relate to this depiction. If not with a librarian as the central figure, at least some type of authority figure that was a mysterious and stern creature that gave us the willies before we realized what a helpful and gentle soul they were.

With it being national library card sign-up month and with all the wee ones heading back to school I thought it the perfect time to share a story such as this. It’s a little suspenseful, a little spooky, and overall, a little silly. What a great formula for a shared reading experience.

Personal Note: I used to be terrified of the librarian at my elementary school. She was tight-lipped with a thin penciled frown. It wasn’t until my sophomore year in school, when I was working as a student assistant in the library, that I realized this mean looking lady was just a shy woman who was more comfortable dealing with catalog cards than children. We warmed up to each other quickly and were great friends until she passed away to a terminal illness. I guess what I’m trying to say is, give things a chance, even if they seem scary or uncomfortable. You just never know what lies beneath the surface.

What is Lurking Behind the Walls?

The Wolves in the Walls

by Neil Gaiman

Illustrations by Dave McKean

Harper Collins, 2003

The Wolves in the Walls, is a wild story with a level-headed heroine. The premise of the book plays on basic fears (home intrusion, fears of childhood fantasy) and takes the reader on a heart-thumping journey.

Lucy and her trusty pig puppet heard noises coming from inside the walls. While unsuccessfully trying to convince her family that the noises are coming from wolves in the walls, she is also introduced to an apparently well known axiom. A warning, if you were. “If the wolves come out of the walls, then it’s all over.” Her family doesn’t take her too seriously, even though Lucy is utterly convinced it is wolves inside the walls. Yet, despite her family’s flippant responses to her worries, there is an imminent sense of danger that they all seem to accept, either openly or subconsciously.

And then, one night, that danger awakens in a horrible way when the wolves finally do come out of the walls. The family flees the house and surrenders their home and possessions to the vicious, wily canines. Even though they are left to sleep in the garden, the entire family is safe, all except for Lucy’s puppet, the one entity that trusted her about the wolves. As her family is suggesting new, and wacky, places to live, Lucy decides she must get her puppet back. Upon stealthily re-entering the house and seeing the disrespectful actions of the four-legged fiends, Lucy resolves herself and convinces her family to take back what is theirs. Following is a brave conquest and a surprise twist ending.

This book is yet another amazing creation from author Neil Gaiman and illustrator Dave McKean. Gaiman’s writing is skillful and flows well, despite the twisted tale he is weaving. McKean’s illustrations compliment the story perfectly. His mixed media artwork emphasizes the chaotic plotline of this book. On one page you might see a dynamic ink drawing, while the next is a mixed-material collage. This type of artistic style suits the characters and the storyline.

The main character in this story reminds me of some of the Greek heroes. Lucy is not a hero in this story because she is superhuman or is untouched by fear. Her heroism lies in the fact that she experiences fear, terror even, yet steadfastly rises above it. Just as I’m sure Theseus was terrified when he went to slay the Minotaur, Lucy was when she went to win back her home from the wolves. Taking the reigns of her family and acknowledging the importance of allegiance to ones home and ones family, Lucy swallows her fear and accepts the daunting task of winning her stomping grounds back, as well as her puppet.

This story is great, not only for its wonderful writing and ferocious illustrations, but also because it teaches a few important lessons. Children learn that they can be heroes and leaders in their own family units. It was Lucy who first noticed, believed in, and eventually defeated the wolves. This can show children that they too can take active roles in their own lives and in their own safety. Adults can learn to take stock in what their children say. Sometimes we are so swift to dismiss things that children say just because it seems like nonsense or we can’t make hide nor hair of it. Perhaps we need to listen more intently when little mouths speak. I would recommend this book as a read-aloud or read together book with adults and young readers or pre-readers.

It's All About the Hair

The Witch's Child
by Arthur Yorinks; illustrated by Jos A. Smith
Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2007

The Witch's Child is one of the most seriously creepy children's books I've come across in a good, long while. The illustrations are terrifying; the Witch Rosina's posture drips with menace. The story draws from the fairy tale tradition, a cross between Hansel and Gretel and Pinocchio, and doesn't shy from the dark nature of the form; the result being a tale full of the kind of magic and terror of the true classics.

Rosina is a violent and cruel witch who, on a whim, decides to try creating a child for herself out of spare rags and straw, and bits of her own hair. However, she can't bring the little doll to life no matter how hard she tries, and in a fit of pique turns all the other children to bramble bushes. Finally, Rosina casts the doll aside, to be found later by a young girl named Lina, who rearranges her limbs and treats her with kindness. Rosina finds Lina with her forgotten child, and attacks her with knife in hand. The ending is happy, but it's paid for with a terrible price.

The Witch's Child is by turns stark and hopeful, with the occasional moment of truly off-putting humor thrown in - Rosina's smile is actually worse than her scowl, if you'd believe it. The "life" of the doll is also full of childhood fears, abandonment chief among them. However, the really wonderful part of this story is in the nature of her awakening - unlike Pinocchio, who requires an external conscience and is brought to life by someone else's love, the doll child wills herself into life to protect someone else from her own creator. The message of self-determination is subtle, but empowering.

Don't let the seemingly snuggly cover illustration fool you: this book is one of those really great scary stories that reminds me of why I love horror. Smith's illustrations are downright beautiful; from the first page, even Rosina's posture drips with malicious intent. The curse she lays on the children is captured mid-transformation, as is their eventual return. More sensitive children might be disturbed by the imagery and the content of the story, but, like The Spider and the Fly, and most fairy tales, for that matter, the object is to teach them to have a healthy respect for their own fears and (hopefully) to inspire them to rise above it.

Too Much Strawberry Junky Business

The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher
by Molly Bang
Aladdin Papberbacks, ©1996
Four Winds Press, ©1980

The Grey Lady and the Strawberry Snatcher is a suspenseful and delightful picture book. This Caldecott Honor winning wordless picture book follows the Grey Lady’s frightful trek home from the produce market with a pint of fresh, juicy strawberries. Upon leaving the market she is being relentlessly stalked by a greedy perpetrator known only as the “Strawberry Snatcher.”

As the book opens, the reader is instantly attracted to the pleasure upon the Grey Lady’s face as she purchases her strawberries and heads home. However, subtle shading techniques and figurative motifs in Bang’s illustrations foreshadow horrible events to come. For instance, as she is walking out of the door from the market, the shop behind her looks dark and foreboding. Subsequently, as she is heading down the sidewalk on the next page, we see a shocking and sinister face peering around the corner, intent on following her. This is the dark element or the evil figure that just might mean doom for the Grey Lady. He follows her by the shops in town, skateboards after her when she boards the bus, and he continues to follow her into an oddly beautiful swamp, an eerily daunting forest, and finally into a foggy grey clearing where the book reaches a startling climax.

For a wordless book, this story is an engaging page-turner. The rich and textured illustrations employ a vivid color palette which in turn creates a landscape that harnesses the driving energy of the story. The decision to illustrate the Grey Lady as a subtle, soft figure and the Strawberry Snatcher as a bizarre and freakish creature enhances the elements of the story. The Grey lady blends in with the landscape. You get the feeling she has lived in this area for a long time. It is her intimate knowledge of the environment which allows her to outwit her attacker again and again. The strange and colorful appearance of the Strawberry Snatcher illustrates he is an interloper on the local landscape. His fiendish features compared with the deep laugh lines and warm wrinkles of the Grey Lady further demonstrate the dichotomy which is the overall theme of the story: good vs. evil, the honest old lady vs. the devilish thief trying to wrest her most sacred treasure.

The wondrous artistry of this book makes it a triumphant yet spooky achievement. Readers are given the framework for constructing their own imaginative journey. Taking cues from facial expressions, environment, movement, and other illustrative devices, the reader can feel for themselves what emotions are conjured up and decide for themselves how to feel about the book's resolution. This is one of the great things about wordless picture books; there is so much more room for interpretation. The rise and fall of the plot of this book is one that can be appreciated by young and old alike and the pictures themselves can be appreciated for their detail and richness. Overall, I would recommend this book for readers of all ages.

Suspect Hospitality

The Spider and the Fly
by Mary Howitt, illustrated by Tony Diterlizzi
Simon & Schuster Books for Young Readers, ©2002

The Spider and the Fly is Tony Diterlizzi's delightfully creepy modern reworking of the 1829 cautionary tale by early romantic poet Mary Howitt. "Will you walk into my parlor?" asks the Spider of the Fly; a now-classic opening salvo in a story meant to warn children to be careful and observant of seemingly well-meaning strangers.

Diterlizzi's illustrations are packed with wonderfully subtle, terrible details on every page. The visual narrative is intricate, which adds value to repeat readings - even the wallpaper and curtains are drawn with wry, sardonic humor and a gallows mentality, and grisly easter-eggs abound. Despite the parable quality of the original poem, the anthropomorphized characters re-enforce the depth of horror: this is a story of seduction and murder, and may not be suitable for children who don't already have a fairly morbid sense of humor and a decent conceptual grasp of death.

Reading this book aloud, I found myself drawn subconsciously into imitating the sonorous, gravelly voice of Christopher Lee - the softly glowing font demands as much. The Spider, with his dangerous, rolling eyes and oily smile, channels Vincent Price, one of the kings of silent horror, and the Fly is reminiscent of Greta Schröder and Louise Brooks. Naturally, these details will be lost on young readers, but it's never too late to introduce these classic gems to your burgeoning horror afficionado's repertoire.

If the name sounds familiar, that's because Tony Diterlizzi is the co-creator of the Spiderwick Chronicles with another author of gothic children's stories, Holly Black (whose work will inevitably be reviewed here as well). Geekery: Diterlizzi got his start with gaming company TSR, working on Dungeons & Dragons books, and moved on to Magic: the Gathering when TSR was bought out by Wizards of the Coast. There's also a fascinating picture of former First Lady Laura Bush reading The Spider and the Fly on the illustrator's wikipedia page.

Snicket Goes to the Orchestra

The Composer is Dead
by Lemony Snicket
HarperCollinsPublishers, ©2009

Lemony Snicket's newest masterpiece, The Composer is Dead, serves multiple purposes. Taking the format of a murder mystery (guess who the victim is!), the book serves first as a fantastic introduction to the parts of an orchestra, individually and as a whole. It is also an excellent primer in Snicket's signature brand of dry wit and macabre sensibilities.

The Composer (now decomposing) had died, and it is left to the Inspector (who is suspiciously autobiographical) to determine who was the culprit, and find them wherever they may be lurking. He then interrogates each section in turn, beginning with the violins and moving right through strings, woodwinds, brass and percussion. Each instrument, though, gives an alibi, until the Inspector reaches the Conductor himself, and discovers to his horror that "dead composers litter the musical world...". The entire orchestra comes to the Composer's rescue, however, with a revelation both shocking and hilarious (depending on your constitution).

One of the neat parts of this book is the CD that comes with it. In the first half of this, Lemony Snicket reads the story aloud with orchestral accompaniment composed by (still living) Nathaniel Stookey. The second half is just the music, without Snicket. As each instrument is interrogated, it is heard in the background, so that the second half of the CD can be used to help children learn to identify each instrument by sound.

The artwork in this book is somber, and a little bit retro; the color palette is reminiscent of 70's "Sesame Street", all faded earth-tones which could be friendly or tiring, depending on your tastes. Of course, that's probably the point - the Snicket books have always challenged the sensibilities of the young, glowing and lively, and are best suited to the underage curmudgeon-in-training.

Sanitary Friends

The Soap Lady
by Renee French
Top Shelf Productions, Inc., 2001.


The Soap Lady is an outlandish, heartwarming story of friendship, hope and sanitation, written and drawn by Renee French.

The story opens as the Soap Lady rises gently from the sea in a disconcerting parallel to the birth myth of Aphrodite. She is a lumpen, shambling horror; a bloated and dessicated body supported by skeletal legs, with a skull for a head. She meets Rollo, a young boy who can't seem to stay clean, and the two become instant friends. When the villager adults discover her presence, however, she is driven back into the sea, but not before leaving Rollo with a truly disturbing parting gift to remember her by.

Renee French's artwork consistently straddles the border between the uncomfortable and the charming, evoking the ticklish morbidity of Edward Gorey and the visual social criticism of Jhonen Vasques. However, French's imagery is much softer and more soothing than Gorey's, and far less frenetic than Vasques'. Moments that would be revolting if they were handled by any other artist become touching and somewhat sweet in this book... until you realize what exactly just happened. The beauty of The Soap Lady is in French's deft balancing of themes of loving friendship and rising horror.

According to a short blurb in the back of the book, the story was inspired by the real-life discovery of a corpse in a Philadelphia cemetery whose fat had turned to adipocere (aka grave wax) after burial. Adipocere derives from adipose - the multi-function substance found throughout the human body which builds up in excess in obese people.

For those of geek persuasion: you may also remember that the Tenth Doctor faced down an army of adorable Adipose aliens with Donna Noble in the first episode of the fourth series of Doctor Who. Apparently, there's just something about this substance that makes us giggle (and wiggle), even as we're horrified by it.