Following the resounding success of my Locus Quest, I faced a dilemma: which reading list to follow it up with? Variety is the spice of life, so I’ve decided to diversify and pursue six different lists simultaneously. This book falls into my LOCUS Y-A list.I think I’ll always have a soft-spot for imaginative young-adult speculative fiction and as the good people at Locus did such a grand job with picking their Sci-Fi winners, I’ll trust them to single out some special y-a books too.When I pulled up the list of previous Locus Y-A Award winners, I wasn’t surprised to see Coraline taking the 2003 prize. It’s one of those books that I had been meaning to get around to reading since it came out but never quite got to before the film came out in 2009. I probably would have picked it up sooner, if it wasn’t for the huge success of the film - I know that may sound counter-intuitive, but with the movie still fresh in my mind, I didn’t want to go into the book with my imagination pre-programmed.Having left it a few years, it was now possible to read the book on its own terms, without hearing Dakota Fanning’s voice coming out of Coraline’s mouth or picturing the world through Selick’s stop-motion interpretation. And, golly-gee, it was worth the wait!I think what grabbed me first was the scarcity of the descriptions. Gaiman does a marvellous job of conveying much while saying little. It would have been easy to tunnel down into many of these moments to build depth, tension and atmosphere, etc – in fact, that’s normally one thing I love a good writer doing – but Coraline is the work of a master storyteller. Reading it is like catching in the distance the melody of a complex pop song played on pan-pipes – it’s been stripped down to the bare essentials, but remains just as likely to get stuck in your head and your own mind does all the extra imaginative work, fleshing out the skeleton.Having said all that, the little details that Gaiman does embellish his tale with are vivid and evocative, imbuing his titular character and her world their own clear and quirky style. Much like a few eye catching pieces of jewellery (or some dayglo green gloves and wellington boots that look like frogs) can really set-off an outfit.Coraline herself is a wonderful heroine and I’ve come to the conclusion that her attitude is perfect for this story. She is so very matter-of-fact and quietly determined, in complete contrast to the dark whimsy of the other-world. In my review of The Graveyard Book (which is a cut from similar cloth) my only complaint was that the hero of that story, a young boy called Nobody Jones, was a too much an ‘everyman’ character, easily identified with but lacking a bit of sparkle himself. I was tempted to make the same complaint in Coraline – surely a girl with a bit of sass would have captured my heart more? I’m a sucker for a sassy girl. But on reflection, I’ve decided that Coraline is just right the way she is. If she’d had more fun with her adventure – treated it like playtime, like a complicated game – it would have lost a lot of its weight. But Coraline is serious, stubborn and independent, she’s not fazed by the threat the other-mother poses, but she takes it at face value and deals with it on its own terms. That grounded, sober perspective keeps the story firmly balanced, and curtails any risk of it drifting into the talking-animals and fairytale-baddies children’s fantasy pigeonhole.While we’re mentioning talking animals though – both the cat and the rats were highlights for me! I have three cats and I’m sure Gaiman must a lot of experience with cats, because he’s got the cat-itude spot-on. I looked at that last line and thought, this is the era of the internet – all the information of the world is at my fingertips! So I Googled “does Neil Gaiman have a cat?”, found my way to the “cats” tag on his blog and fished out this quote:“There used to be seven cats in this house. There were always seven cats. As one died off or went walkabout, never to return, another would turn up at the back door.”Yes, this man knows his cats! And it shows. And I loved every scene involving the-cat -with-no-name. Here are a couple of quotes, because they are smile-worthy.“What's your name,' Coraline asked the cat. 'Look, I'm Coraline. Okay?''Cats don't have names,' it said.'No?' said Coraline.'No,' said the cat. 'Now you people have names. That's because you don't know who you are. We know who we are, so we don't need names.”“The cat wrinkled its nose and managed to look unimpressed. "Calling cats," it confided, "tends to be a rather overrated activity. Might as well call a whirlwind.”And then there are the rats. I’ve read a few books recently with talking rats. Wind in the Willows, with good old Ratty. Thomas, with its evil (but stupid) minion rats. The Amazing Maurice, with its brave, magic Discworld rats (go, go, Dangerous Beans!). All three of these present their rats as small, furry people - but Coraline does not. The rats are something like an elemental evil. Like the spirit of treachery embodied. Or the essence of malignancy made flesh. They’re genuinely creepy!Which brings us nicely on to the buttons: will I ever look at buttons the same way? I think not. There is a beads and buttons shop in the Cardiff arcades, and every time I walk past I see the ghosts of a thousand other-mothers in their window display. Best subversion of a standard household object ever. Come here Coraline, so I can sew buttons into your eyes and you can stay and love me forever! Yuk, yuk, yuk! Creepy as cockroaches under your skin. Pure ick.Keely makes a good point about Gaiman’s body of work as existing as a modern reimagining of classic myth types. “He took inspiration from Fairy Tales in Stardust, from European myth in American Gods, and African myth in Anansi Boys. Though Morpheus was no small man, the individual story arcs dealt with normal folks. Sandman and Good Omens worked off of Christian mythos, while Neverwhere created myths from modern symbols”I (obviously) disagree with Keely’s conclusion - that Coraline , standing outside of an obvious storytelling tradition is worse off for lacking the genre savvy play of his other work. I’ve been thinking about how I’d classify the inspiration behind Coraline , and the phrase that’s come to mind is “domestic horror”. When you’re little, your parents warn you about the dangers of life. Don’t run with scissors. Don’t play with matches. Don’t take sweets from stranger. Pratchett riffed off the fears these warnings can create in Hogfather (the thumb-suckers thumb-cutting ostrich-scissor-monster?) – and it’s that same riff I feel running through Coraline . Don’t play with the sewing box, you might hurt yourself. Don’t play with rats, they might bite. Don’t wish for another mother or your other-mother will sew buttons into your eyes.Or perhaps the moral is for the parents? Ignore your child too much and she may just run away to someone more attentive... who may take advantage and hurt her. Try and ignore that thought when you wave your kids away to ‘go play’ because you’re too busy, huh?It’s a cracking little book. So why only four stars? Because it’s teeny. It’s barely a novella. To get a full five stars I need something I can sink my teeth into. This was delicious, but I was still hungry when I finished.tAfter this I read: Qualia
Social change? What has it got to do with Coraline?What is it that drives social change? What is it that leads to positive revolution and reform? I recently read an article where someone argued that the emotion of anger was the major driving force. I would argue that perhaps there are greater forces which can lead to a desire to change. Among them love with all its desire and passion and also an unequivocal sense of boredom. Anger might make us feel resentment or injustice but anger on its own may lead to rash action and martyrdom. I understand that revolution is such a complex issue and no one can easily say what it is that leads to such grand social changes. I merely want to open this review with a little questioning and a proposition that love and boredom are keys to change. For in my eyes love and boredom are key aspects to the change that occurs in our protagonist Coraline. Coraline is a child with parents focussed on their work (which involves sitting at a desk and typing on a computer). In fact they're too focussed to entertain her. So Coraline (not Caroline) is left to solve her own boredom. So she does so through visiting the other odd people who share her house. And she eventually finds another strange world just beyond a door that at first seems to lead to nowhere. And later, in a Narnian type of twist, that leads to another world. But unlike the fun other worlds of Peter Pan, Alice in Wonderland or The Chronicles of Narnia this other world is a world of nightmare. One exactly the same as Coraline's normal house but with her 'other mother' and 'other father'. And once she goes in there's no coming out. She's always hungry... LoveIn this story we get the sense that Coraline is loved by her family but is abandoned on the whole. Which leads to the interesting way she responds to her 'other mother' a monster with button eyes which claims to love her but really only wants to be loved by Coraline. In the end Coraline's love does win out in a way that the reader may not expect. Love and all its aspects are clearly responsible for change in my mind. When love is forbidden it perhaps leads to rebellious attitudes. When love exists in the other forms of forbidden passion and desire then it too can be responsible for great change. Love, to me, tends to be more active than passive where anger can be more passive at times. Or when anger is active it is active in a way that it was not intended to be. Moreover I find love is more often proactive than reactive whereas I find anger seems to be in reverse. BoredomBoredom is what I'd consider as another motivator of social change. In Coraline's world she has no siblings and no one who wants to help her keep occupied. As a result this leads her into the other strange world. One she'd been warned against visiting. Perhaps if she had entertainments (the internet, books, movies or video games) she might have stayed away from that world. However in a house with nothing to do the temptation of seeing what was behind the door proved too much. In our reality boredom can drive us to change through seeing that . It's one reason I feel that there is a greater sense of apathy in our developed nations. We have so much entertainment to keep us occupied. In Roman times they had what the satirist Juvenal called 'panem et circenses' or bread and circuses. In other words they had the circuses where they watched blood sport and they had the gifts (usually of bread) given to them there to keep them satisfied. It's the idea of give the people what they want and they will rarely question you. Whereas if people are bored or I extend the idea, dissatisfied, rebellion or change will be on their minds. The horror, the horror...Part of the appeal to the horror and the story of Coraline is in how Gaiman appeals to the common desires and fears of children. No child wants to be ignored; no child wants to lose their parents; no child wants to be lost in a creepy house; no child wants to discover hidden monsters; children want to explore; children want activities to do; children want above all to be loved. But as Coraline points out, "What kind of fun would it be if I just got everything that I wanted? Just like that and it didn't mean anything?" ConclusionI admit that I like Neil Gaiman's writing. It's charming, British and so reminiscent of other authors. In fact that is what Gaiman is praised for, the ways he summons to mind the spirits of other authors while inventing his own unique fairytales. He is, to my mind, one of the essential authors around ad a definite favourite. I recommend this if you want to see the world anew through the lens of a child or if you're looking to read more Gaiman stories. I also recommend The Graveyard Book, Neverwhere and Stardust emphatically.
Do You like book Coraline (2006)?
YAY! I LOVED THIS! :DSo, basically, I can now safely say that Neil Gaiman 1/ Is in my list of favourite authors, and 2/ has one of the most beautiful voices I've heard.I will be doing a review of this on my YouTube Channel, but here are some thoughts:1) This was genuinely creepy and morbid at times, and when the mice sang their voice actors were so creepy I honestly felt fear.2) I love how straight forward and simplistic this book was. This can be attributed to the fact that it's a children's book, but The Ocean at the End of the Lane was also quite simplistic and so I think it's a Neil Gaiman thing and I love it.3) I really liked Coraline as a main character: she was down to earth, shy, independent, and brave even when she was scared.4) Neil Gaiman can create ambiance like nobody's business.5) I can't wait to read my next Neil Gaiman: The Graveyard Book!
—Ariel
While in a waiting-room situation with an antsy child, I downloaded this on my Kindle for my 6-year-old daughter, who loved it so much that she insisted on having a "real" copy. Figured I'd better read it, too...besides, I love Neil Gaiman.Hmmm...Bella reads the book, then I read the book. I really have this parenting thing down, no?AAAANNNNDDDDD...I loved it. Woulda REALLY loved it when I was a kid. I'm waiting for Bella to do her review, and see how she ranks it. All I know so far is that she ranks it above Despereaux.I keep reading comments about how childrens' lit is "becoming too scary." Um, hello? Classic fairy tales, anyone? Kids love having the stuffing scared out of them--I know I did.
—Belinda
I've read this book many different times in many different ways. I read it off the page when it first came out. Later, I listened to Gaiman's narration of the audiobook when I was sequestered in the north woods of Wisconsin in a desperate attempt to finish book two. I watched the movie and enjoyed it. My most recent experience of the book was listening to it with my little boy on a long car ride. I wasn't sure he'd be able to get into it. Not because of the vocabulary. He's very sharp for being 4.5. He's good with words. But sometimes he gets a little scared. Despite my worries, he seemed to enjoy it. He paid attention, attention, asking for us to turn it back on after we stopped by the side of the road. A day later, he excitedly told me all about the story, apparently forgetting I'd been in the car too. All of that was months ago. Fast forward to now.... * * *"Dad," Oot said. "Do you know the guy who wrote Coraline?"The question caught me by surprise. The two of us were driving to a party together, a friend was having a bonfire and I was amazed that he was thinking about anything other than smores."I do," I said. "His name is Neil Gaiman." "Do you have his phone number?" he asked."No," I said."Do you know where he lives?""I do," I said."Are you his friend?"That brought me up short. For Oot, that's a simple question. If you meet someone and play with them, they're you're friend. Easy. For adults these things are harder. And it's doubly hard for me these days. My life has changed so much over the last five years, and my previously established metric for friendship doesn't work very well any more. You see, for the majority of my life, a friend was someone who would, say, help me move a couch. Someone you could bum 10 dollars off of if you needed to. A friend was someone who felt comfortable enough to come over to my house without calling first. Then, if I wasn't home, they would let themselves in, eat out of my fridge, and start watching TV. While I'm terribly fond of him, Neil Gaiman has never done any of these things. Then again, neither have any of the other authors I've met over the last few years. I'm painfully aware of the need for new friendship metrics, but I haven't managed to develop a good set yet.That won't make any sense to my boy, but still, I try to be honest with him whenever I can. "I don't know if we're friends," I say. "But we're colleagues.""What's a colleagues?" he asks, right on cue. "That means we know each other and do the same job," I explain. "Oh yes," he says. "You're both authors." It makes me proud when he says that. I'm proud that my boy knows I write books. "Do you know his address?" Oot asks, and it takes me a while to realize that he's returning to his previous line of questioning. "I do," I said, not bothering to point out that knowing where someone lives and knowing their address is pretty much the same thing."Can you send him a letter?" "I could," I say. Oot pauses for a moment then, and I realize that this has been the point of the whole conversation. He wants to send Neil Gaiman a message. "What would you like me to write to him?" I ask. "You should tell him he *sure* knows how to write a scary story...."* * *So there you go. You don't really need me to tell you how I feel about one of Gaiman's books at this point. You know I love his writing. Instead, I'm offering up my boy's unvarnished opinion. Did he think the story was scary? Absolutely. But he still wanted us to turn it back on as soon as we were back in the car. What's more, he was still thinking about Coraline months later. And it was the first book where he's ever shown any interest in contacting the author. So. Bravo, Neil Gaiman. You've managed to win over two generations of the Rothfuss household.
—Patrick
