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THE SELFISH GIANT

The 1888 classic illustrated in a more robust and detailed manner than Zwerger's misty, ethereal version (Picture Book Studio, 1984). Here the illustrator, whose work first appeared in Mary Pope Osborne's Moonhorse (Knopf, 1991) has chosen to depict a fully imagined world, complete with 19th-century period detail: children in caps and pinafores playing with hoops and sticks and marionettes; the giant toting his lute, portmanteau, and picnic basket; the Hail personified as a blind man in pantaloons and a hat straight out of Tenniel tapping with his umbrella on the roof slates. The palette is soft brown, green, peach, and gold; even the snow-and-ice scenes have a faint golden glow. The face of the little Christ-figure is never shown, preserving the mystery of the text. For all its period aura, Gallagher's style is distinctly modern, marked by the use of extreme high and low vantage points and seemingly random cropping, so that even important figures and objects may be cut off by the frame. The effect is somewhat like looking into a room through a keyhole; because the aperture is not large enough to encompass the entire scene, the result is an intense focus on that part of it that can be seen. Dramatic and memorable. (Picture book. 8+)

Pub Date: March 22, 1995

ISBN: 0-399-22448-3

Page Count: 32

Publisher: Putnam

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: March 15, 1995

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BEYOND MULBERRY GLEN

An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.

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In Florence’s middle-grade fantasy novel, a young girl’s heart is tested in the face of an evil, spreading Darkness.

Eleven-year-old Lydia, “freckle-cheeked and round-eyed, with hair the color of pine bark and fair skin,” is struggling with the knowledge that she has reached the age to apprentice as an herbalist. Lydia is reluctant to leave her beloved, magical Mulberry Glen and her cozy Housetree in the woods—she’ll miss Garder, the Glen’s respected philosopher; her fairy guardian Pit; her human friend Livy; and even the mischievous part-elf, part-imp, part-human twins Zale and Zamilla. But the twins go missing after hearing of a soul-sapping Darkness that has swallowed a forest and is creeping into minds and engulfing entire towns. They have secretly left to find a rare fruit that, it is said, will stop the Darkness if thrown into the heart of the mountain that rises out of the lethal forest. Lydia follows, determined to find the twins before they, too, fall victim to the Darkness. During her journey, accompanied by new friends, she gradually realizes that she herself has a dangerous role to play in the quest to stop the Darkness. In this well-crafted fantasy, Florence skillfully equates the physical manifestation of Darkness with the feelings of insecurity and powerlessness that Lydia first struggles with when thinking of leaving the Glen. Such negative thoughts grow more intrusive the closer she and her friends come to the Darkness—and to Lydia’s ultimate, powerfully rendered test of character, which leads to a satisfyingly realistic, not quite happily-ever-after ending. Highlights include a delightfully haunting, reality-shifting library and a deft sprinkling of Latin throughout the text; Pit’s pet name for Lydia is mea flosculus (“my little flower”). Fine-lined ink drawings introducing each chapter add a pleasing visual element to this well-grounded fairy tale.

An absorbing fantasy centered on a resilient female protagonist facing growth, change, and self-empowerment.

Pub Date: Jan. 7, 2025

ISBN: 9781956393095

Page Count: 288

Publisher: Waxwing Books

Review Posted Online: Oct. 14, 2024

Kirkus Reviews Issue: Jan. 1, 2025

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CORALINE

Not for the faint-hearted—who are mostly adults anyway—but for stouthearted kids who love a brush with the sinister:...

A magnificently creepy fantasy pits a bright, bored little girl against a soul-eating horror that inhabits the reality right next door.

Coraline’s parents are loving, but really too busy to play with her, so she amuses herself by exploring her family’s new flat. A drawing-room door that opens onto a brick wall becomes a natural magnet for the curious little girl, and she is only half-surprised when, one day, the door opens onto a hallway and Coraline finds herself in a skewed mirror of her own flat, complete with skewed, button-eyed versions of her own parents. This is Gaiman’s (American Gods, 2001, etc.) first novel for children, and the author of the Sandman graphic novels here shows a sure sense of a child’s fears—and the child’s ability to overcome those fears. “I will be brave,” thinks Coraline. “No, I am brave.” When Coraline realizes that her other mother has not only stolen her real parents but has also stolen the souls of other children before her, she resolves to free her parents and to find the lost souls by matching her wits against the not-mother. The narrative hews closely to a child’s-eye perspective: Coraline never really tries to understand what has happened or to fathom the nature of the other mother; she simply focuses on getting her parents back and thwarting the other mother for good. Her ability to accept and cope with the surreality of the other flat springs from the child’s ability to accept, without question, the eccentricity and arbitrariness of her own—and every child’s own—reality. As Coraline’s quest picks up its pace, the parallel world she finds herself trapped in grows ever more monstrous, generating some deliciously eerie descriptive writing.

Not for the faint-hearted—who are mostly adults anyway—but for stouthearted kids who love a brush with the sinister: Coraline is spot on. (Fiction. 9-12)

Pub Date: July 1, 2002

ISBN: 0-380-97778-8

Page Count: 176

Publisher: HarperCollins

Review Posted Online: May 19, 2010

Kirkus Reviews Issue: June 15, 2002

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