I can’t decide which is worse: everyone who has been telling me, Just you wait until you’re more pregnant/you have that baby/that baby is a teenager and hates you, OR people who find out that I don’t like Neil Gaiman and are like, Oh yes but have you read X. Because I probably have, yes, and I was underwhelmed. I mean, there are dozens of authors whom I have not given a fair shake, but because youse guys LOVE THE GAIMAN so much, I keep trying, and I have read Neverwhere and American Gods and Anansi Boys and Coraline (which I liked, but mostly for the drawings) and Good Omens (which I loved, but I blame Terry Pratchett for that) so I think I have sampled all the necessary Gaimans, and I have never been buzzed.
The fact that The Graveyard Book rang my ghostly bell does not weigh against this. It maybe SHOULD, but whatever, because I have liked salmon exactly once and hated it almost all of the times and this does not make me a person who likes salmon. I am talking way too much about this but I am sick of being told that I’m wrong. I AM WRONG ABOUT A LOT OF THINGS like where Kuwait is on a map and how many litres are in a mile but I know whether I like a thing or not.
SO! A man breaks into a house and slaughters a family except for the one wee baby, which seems negligent since it was the baby he was sent to slaughter in the first place. But whatever, the baby wanders off and is adopted by some ghosts, who name him Bod (‘Nobody’) and raise him up good. He meets a girl, they investigate crypts and have rambly good times about the graveyard. It’s very Slice Of Life, Avec Ghosts.
But eventually the negligent murdery-man comes a-knockin once more and Bod’s taciturn guardian Silas is off doing mysterious doings and Bod has to do some brave and bold things and Scarlett (aforementioned girl) must do likewise and then MORE murdery men come ’round and it’s all very exciting.
And I like it because it’s sly and irreverent and a bit goofy, and don’t tell me that American Gods is sly and irreverent because I’ve read it. Stop trying to make me like things I don’t like, interwebz. You’re so pushy that way. (I clearly need counselling about this.)
As is the trend these days, there are pictures. Which I am decidedly feh about. I’m not trying to be difficult, I’m just not automatically going to die with delight because you doodled in your margins (God, that sounds dirty).
I know I’m being super-surly about a book that I actually liked, and that is stupid of me. So RAH, Graveyard Book! I really enjoyed your face. Eight caterpillars to you.