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The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge
"Both moving and hilarious. Spurge is not just an unlikely hero -- it's hard to know if he's a hero at all. But that only makes the finale of this political satire all the more surprising." -- The New York Times Book Review
Uptight elfin historian Brangwain Spurge is on a mission: survive being catapulted across the mountains into goblin territory, deliver a priceless peace offering to their mysterious dark lord, and spy on the goblin kingdom -- from which no elf has returned alive in more than a hundred years. Brangwain's host, the goblin archivist Werfel, is delighted to show Brangwain around. They should be the best of friends, but a series of extraordinary double crosses, blunders, and cultural misunderstandings throws these two bumbling scholars into the middle of an international crisis that may spell death for them -- and war for their nations. Witty mixed-media illustrations show Brangwain's furtive missives back to the elf kingdom, while Werfel's determinedly unbiased narrative tells an entirely different story. This National Book Award finalist and hilarious, biting social commentary is rife with thrilling action, visual humor, and a comic disparity that suggests the ultimate victor in a war is perhaps not who won, but who gets to write the history.
Uptight elfin historian Brangwain Spurge is on a mission: survive being catapulted across the mountains into goblin territory, deliver a priceless peace offering to their mysterious dark lord, and spy on the goblin kingdom -- from which no elf has returned alive in more than a hundred years. Brangwain's host, the goblin archivist Werfel, is delighted to show Brangwain around. They should be the best of friends, but a series of extraordinary double crosses, blunders, and cultural misunderstandings throws these two bumbling scholars into the middle of an international crisis that may spell death for them -- and war for their nations. Witty mixed-media illustrations show Brangwain's furtive missives back to the elf kingdom, while Werfel's determinedly unbiased narrative tells an entirely different story. This National Book Award finalist and hilarious, biting social commentary is rife with thrilling action, visual humor, and a comic disparity that suggests the ultimate victor in a war is perhaps not who won, but who gets to write the history.
544 pages, Paperback
First published September 25, 2018
102 people are currently reading
5259 people want to read
About the author
M.T. Anderson
59 books1,253 followersMatthew Tobin Anderson (M. T. Anderson), (1968- ) is an author, primarily of picture books for children and novels for young adults. Anderson lives in Cambridge, Massachusetts.
His picture books include Handel Who Knew What He Liked; Strange Mr. Satie; The Serpent Came to Gloucester; and Me, All Alone, at the End of the World. He has written such young adult books as Thirsty, Burger Wuss, Feed, The Game of Sunken Places, and Octavian Nothing. For middle grader readers, his novels include Whales on Stilts: M. T. Anderson's Thrilling Tales and its sequel, The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen.
-Wikipedia
His picture books include Handel Who Knew What He Liked; Strange Mr. Satie; The Serpent Came to Gloucester; and Me, All Alone, at the End of the World. He has written such young adult books as Thirsty, Burger Wuss, Feed, The Game of Sunken Places, and Octavian Nothing. For middle grader readers, his novels include Whales on Stilts: M. T. Anderson's Thrilling Tales and its sequel, The Clue of the Linoleum Lederhosen.
-Wikipedia
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June 5, 2018
If history is written by the winners then what happens when everyone loses?
In my job I read a lot of books written for kids and middle schoolers. To guide this reading I take into account a lot of professional reviews from sources like Kirkus and Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal and the like. If a book gets multiple stars, I flag it for my To Be Read pile. This is a good, effective method for finding great books but it is not without its flaws. I am in constant danger of Realistic Fiction Burnout (RFB). RFB comes when an adult subject has been exposed to a large number of children's books involving realistic characters in realistic settings, all set in the present day. If I have to read one more bullying, school bus, lunchroom scene I’m going to melt into a large, rather unattractive puddle. I read outside my comfort zone, but truth be told I just wish I was reading more fantasy and science fiction. Those are my sweet spots. So when I just can’t take it anymore and the world is just too depressing and real, I turn to something like The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge for relief. Essentially a book that takes a Tolkien concept and wraps it up in a healthy bit of Cold War paranoia, M.T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin have created what has to be the kookiest interpretation of Middle Earth-esque events to hit the children’s book scene since Ben Hatke’s Nobody Likes a Goblin. This book’s like that only longer and with a plot that feels like what you’d get if you combined The Rite of Spring with Yakety Sax. If that and the concept of a fantastical buddy comedy between an elf and a goblin (who are both historical academics) done in the visual vein of Brian Selznick appeals, then buddy have I got the book for you.
Open this book. It’s the darndest thing. The first thing you really see is what looks like a large, floating, warty Faberge egg. As you watch, the egg opens to reveal a jewel inside. And inside the jewel are grotesque carvings of a battle, pieces of fighters so inundated with spears and arrows that it resembles nothing so much as a pile of Pick Up Stix. That’s the Prologue, but Chapter One is equally visual. Now we are in a strange kingdom where elves load one of their companions into a barrel. He is handed the warty egg then launched into the sky, whereupon his vessel is plucked from the ether by a three-headed bird. This is where the text comes in and it is split in two. On the one hand we have the epistolary missives of the elf Ysoret Clivers, the Earl of Lunesse, who is dictating how an ancient artifact was found in Elfland and is now being sent with academic historical Brangwain Spurge to the land of the goblins to present to their leader as a peace offering. The other narrative follows Werfel the Archivist, the goblin historian who will be hosting Spurge, and who couldn’t be more pleased with the honor. A tentative peace has been laid between the two hostile countries and Werfel believes no one is better suited to treat his guest than he. But things don’t go exactly to plan. Alternating between text and images that represent Spurge’s point of view (which is not exactly reliable) readers receive a palpable understanding of what happens when two entirely different cultures have to fight through false assumptions and propaganda to reach a solid friendship.
There is an art to a good unreliable narrator. I suppose someone somewhere has probably written rules on the subject. First and foremost, the author has to decide whether or not they want to let the reader in on the narrator’s skewed p.o.v. from the start (think Timmy Failure) or if they want the reader to experience a kind of creeping suspicion and dread as they read (think Pale Fire). What sets Brangwain Spurge apart from the pack is that you’re dealing far less with an unreliable narrator’s words and more an unreliable narrator’s eyes. In fact, aside from the occasional letter from Earl of Lunesse, all thoughts come directly from the brain of the incredibly kind-hearted Werfel. But look how the book is set up. From the moment you open it you encounter not anyone’s words, but the images of Yelchin. Images that consistently undermine Werfel’s testimony. It’s as if the creators of the book are challenging young readers to question everything, even their own eyes. Why is it that we are so inclined to believe what we see over what we hear? We know better in the 21st century than we ever did in the 20th that images are unreliable. That they can be twisted and turned and changed to fit our needs. So here we have a book that takes a Brian Selznick style (more on him in a moment) and then slowly reveals to the reader that these pictures are frauds. The unreliable visual narrator is a new creation in children’s books, as far as I’m concerned. New, and extraordinarily vital in our post-Photoshop existence.
For Anderson’s book to work he needed an artist that knew how to indulge in pleasant grotesqueries. And since Stephen Gammell has long been out of the business of creepy, Yelchin makes a fascinating substitute. So let’s examine exactly what happens when you read this book. You open it up and encounter a series of illustrations that remind you, possibly, of the works of Brian Selznick. Yet for all that they are cinematic in scope and done in black and white, Yelchin’s art here is almost the anti-Selznick. Where Brian luxuriates in bringing forth subtle curves through the most delicate of crosshatches, Yelchin appears to have channeled Hieronymus Bosch by way of Terry Gilliam. And as I mentioned before, Selznick’s art is all about trust. The young reader trusts that if they pay attention to the art in his books, they’ll be able to solve the mysteries hidden in his words. I suspect that Anderson and Yelchin are playing with readers’ past experience with Selznickian books. If this book had been done as a graphic novel, it simply couldn’t have worked quite as well. Sure, there are plenty of comics where the art is filtered through an unreliable narrator’s perceptions, but when you do it through a book that is made up entirely of sequential art then you’ve no chance to surprise the reader later on. Whatever you may call this book (I think “illustrated novel” suits it best) the format fits the telling.
When I go into a review of a book I like to do so cold, without having seen anything that might influence my opinions of the piece. Usually. When I am stumped, however, I’ll grasp at anything that might possibly help me in my interpretation. Take the art of this book, for example. What . . . what is it, exactly? I saw that my edition of the book included a little conversation between Anderson and Yelchin and I figured maybe they’d let slip what it is that Yelchin’s doing here. No dice, though they do have a nice debate over whether or not the book invokes the works of Faxian and Herodotus or John le Carre (the jury is still out on that one). Likewise, Anderson discusses how it is “a tragic meditation on how societies that have been trained to hate each other for generations can actually come to see eye to eye” while Yelchin calls it “A laugh-out-loud misadventure of two fools blinded by ideology and propaganda.” All righty then. This is probably the best explanation of what’s going on here that I could come up with. Yet for a book like this to work you need to get beyond clever details and grand gestures. You need heart and maybe a little soul. And to my infinite relief, I found both.
Because for all that this book is visual Pop Rockets to the old eye sockets, it’s the relationship between Spurge and Werfel that props everything up. At the start of the tale Werfel (who is rather adorable) is just so giddy with the prospect of meeting Spurge that he imagines a glorious future where the two of them talk about his favorite things. “Finally: contact with the enemy. With another scholar. With someone else who loved antiquity and beautiful things, and who shared his hope for this beleaguered world.” When Spurge misinterprets everything he sees and rebuffs Werfel’s attempts at friendship, the goblin scholar sours on his guest. Yet their fates are tied closely to one another and slowly Werfel is able to peel away the skin of his guest’s prejudices with sheer kindness. My favorite part of the book is the moment when the two finally start to bond by “pretending to make friendly reading suggestions to each other while actually just trying to make the other feel stupid. It was the best evening either of them had enjoyed in a very long time.” By the time you get to the end of the book, the relationship is sealed, and you, the reader, are glad of it.
I’ve often said that the best way to get kids to read about adults having adventures is to turn them into furry woodland creatures (see: Redwall). But making your characters mythical creatures works just as well in the end. Anderson has always flirted with his love of fantasy, though until now it was mostly relegated to his Norumbegan Quartet. Here he takes a deep dive into a full-fledged fantasy world. I admired many of his choices along the way. For example, it would have been so easy for both Anderson and Yelchin to have given the goblins a free pass in this book. So maligned in the works of Tolkien and subsequent Tolkien imitators, the twist of making them more sympathetic than the elves is sweet. What upsets the applecart a bit is the fact that while the goblins may be more open-minded than the elves, they are also living in a police state with ruler so strange that I’m still trying to find a metaphorical or real-world equivalent to his Mighty Ghohg. Methinks I’m barking up the wrong tree with that, though. Methinks.
As strange as this may seem, the book that this reminded me the most of was the series of Avatar: The Last Airbender comics by Gene Luen Yang. Those books spend much of their time examining at length the intricacies of deconstructing an oppressive colonial system in a fantasy world, something that this book only touches on lightly. Yet even so, we live in a post-colonial world (for the most part). Colonialism didn’t go that well, and post-colonialism was botched in a variety of interesting and horrible ways. Which brings us to America in 2018, the year of this book’s publication. For kids reading this book today, a title that discusses prejudices born out of (often willful) ignorance coupled with warmongering and malicious leaders . . . golly, is there anything here that will speak to them? I won’t lie. This book will take some work to get through for some kids. Even dyed-in-the-wool comic book readers may stumble a little initially at the unfamiliar art style. But there will be a cadre of kids that stick with it. Kids that find the story of scholars in fantasy realms fascinating. And those kids are the ones that will cut through the treacle and figure out what this book is actually trying to say. I’d wager good money that more kids will get it than adults. A fascinating blend of the wholly original and what is normally overly familiar, Anderson and Yelchin are having way too much fun here. It shouldn’t be allowed. And I sure am glad that it was.
For ages 10 and up.
In my job I read a lot of books written for kids and middle schoolers. To guide this reading I take into account a lot of professional reviews from sources like Kirkus and Publishers Weekly and School Library Journal and the like. If a book gets multiple stars, I flag it for my To Be Read pile. This is a good, effective method for finding great books but it is not without its flaws. I am in constant danger of Realistic Fiction Burnout (RFB). RFB comes when an adult subject has been exposed to a large number of children's books involving realistic characters in realistic settings, all set in the present day. If I have to read one more bullying, school bus, lunchroom scene I’m going to melt into a large, rather unattractive puddle. I read outside my comfort zone, but truth be told I just wish I was reading more fantasy and science fiction. Those are my sweet spots. So when I just can’t take it anymore and the world is just too depressing and real, I turn to something like The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge for relief. Essentially a book that takes a Tolkien concept and wraps it up in a healthy bit of Cold War paranoia, M.T. Anderson and Eugene Yelchin have created what has to be the kookiest interpretation of Middle Earth-esque events to hit the children’s book scene since Ben Hatke’s Nobody Likes a Goblin. This book’s like that only longer and with a plot that feels like what you’d get if you combined The Rite of Spring with Yakety Sax. If that and the concept of a fantastical buddy comedy between an elf and a goblin (who are both historical academics) done in the visual vein of Brian Selznick appeals, then buddy have I got the book for you.
Open this book. It’s the darndest thing. The first thing you really see is what looks like a large, floating, warty Faberge egg. As you watch, the egg opens to reveal a jewel inside. And inside the jewel are grotesque carvings of a battle, pieces of fighters so inundated with spears and arrows that it resembles nothing so much as a pile of Pick Up Stix. That’s the Prologue, but Chapter One is equally visual. Now we are in a strange kingdom where elves load one of their companions into a barrel. He is handed the warty egg then launched into the sky, whereupon his vessel is plucked from the ether by a three-headed bird. This is where the text comes in and it is split in two. On the one hand we have the epistolary missives of the elf Ysoret Clivers, the Earl of Lunesse, who is dictating how an ancient artifact was found in Elfland and is now being sent with academic historical Brangwain Spurge to the land of the goblins to present to their leader as a peace offering. The other narrative follows Werfel the Archivist, the goblin historian who will be hosting Spurge, and who couldn’t be more pleased with the honor. A tentative peace has been laid between the two hostile countries and Werfel believes no one is better suited to treat his guest than he. But things don’t go exactly to plan. Alternating between text and images that represent Spurge’s point of view (which is not exactly reliable) readers receive a palpable understanding of what happens when two entirely different cultures have to fight through false assumptions and propaganda to reach a solid friendship.
There is an art to a good unreliable narrator. I suppose someone somewhere has probably written rules on the subject. First and foremost, the author has to decide whether or not they want to let the reader in on the narrator’s skewed p.o.v. from the start (think Timmy Failure) or if they want the reader to experience a kind of creeping suspicion and dread as they read (think Pale Fire). What sets Brangwain Spurge apart from the pack is that you’re dealing far less with an unreliable narrator’s words and more an unreliable narrator’s eyes. In fact, aside from the occasional letter from Earl of Lunesse, all thoughts come directly from the brain of the incredibly kind-hearted Werfel. But look how the book is set up. From the moment you open it you encounter not anyone’s words, but the images of Yelchin. Images that consistently undermine Werfel’s testimony. It’s as if the creators of the book are challenging young readers to question everything, even their own eyes. Why is it that we are so inclined to believe what we see over what we hear? We know better in the 21st century than we ever did in the 20th that images are unreliable. That they can be twisted and turned and changed to fit our needs. So here we have a book that takes a Brian Selznick style (more on him in a moment) and then slowly reveals to the reader that these pictures are frauds. The unreliable visual narrator is a new creation in children’s books, as far as I’m concerned. New, and extraordinarily vital in our post-Photoshop existence.
For Anderson’s book to work he needed an artist that knew how to indulge in pleasant grotesqueries. And since Stephen Gammell has long been out of the business of creepy, Yelchin makes a fascinating substitute. So let’s examine exactly what happens when you read this book. You open it up and encounter a series of illustrations that remind you, possibly, of the works of Brian Selznick. Yet for all that they are cinematic in scope and done in black and white, Yelchin’s art here is almost the anti-Selznick. Where Brian luxuriates in bringing forth subtle curves through the most delicate of crosshatches, Yelchin appears to have channeled Hieronymus Bosch by way of Terry Gilliam. And as I mentioned before, Selznick’s art is all about trust. The young reader trusts that if they pay attention to the art in his books, they’ll be able to solve the mysteries hidden in his words. I suspect that Anderson and Yelchin are playing with readers’ past experience with Selznickian books. If this book had been done as a graphic novel, it simply couldn’t have worked quite as well. Sure, there are plenty of comics where the art is filtered through an unreliable narrator’s perceptions, but when you do it through a book that is made up entirely of sequential art then you’ve no chance to surprise the reader later on. Whatever you may call this book (I think “illustrated novel” suits it best) the format fits the telling.
When I go into a review of a book I like to do so cold, without having seen anything that might influence my opinions of the piece. Usually. When I am stumped, however, I’ll grasp at anything that might possibly help me in my interpretation. Take the art of this book, for example. What . . . what is it, exactly? I saw that my edition of the book included a little conversation between Anderson and Yelchin and I figured maybe they’d let slip what it is that Yelchin’s doing here. No dice, though they do have a nice debate over whether or not the book invokes the works of Faxian and Herodotus or John le Carre (the jury is still out on that one). Likewise, Anderson discusses how it is “a tragic meditation on how societies that have been trained to hate each other for generations can actually come to see eye to eye” while Yelchin calls it “A laugh-out-loud misadventure of two fools blinded by ideology and propaganda.” All righty then. This is probably the best explanation of what’s going on here that I could come up with. Yet for a book like this to work you need to get beyond clever details and grand gestures. You need heart and maybe a little soul. And to my infinite relief, I found both.
Because for all that this book is visual Pop Rockets to the old eye sockets, it’s the relationship between Spurge and Werfel that props everything up. At the start of the tale Werfel (who is rather adorable) is just so giddy with the prospect of meeting Spurge that he imagines a glorious future where the two of them talk about his favorite things. “Finally: contact with the enemy. With another scholar. With someone else who loved antiquity and beautiful things, and who shared his hope for this beleaguered world.” When Spurge misinterprets everything he sees and rebuffs Werfel’s attempts at friendship, the goblin scholar sours on his guest. Yet their fates are tied closely to one another and slowly Werfel is able to peel away the skin of his guest’s prejudices with sheer kindness. My favorite part of the book is the moment when the two finally start to bond by “pretending to make friendly reading suggestions to each other while actually just trying to make the other feel stupid. It was the best evening either of them had enjoyed in a very long time.” By the time you get to the end of the book, the relationship is sealed, and you, the reader, are glad of it.
I’ve often said that the best way to get kids to read about adults having adventures is to turn them into furry woodland creatures (see: Redwall). But making your characters mythical creatures works just as well in the end. Anderson has always flirted with his love of fantasy, though until now it was mostly relegated to his Norumbegan Quartet. Here he takes a deep dive into a full-fledged fantasy world. I admired many of his choices along the way. For example, it would have been so easy for both Anderson and Yelchin to have given the goblins a free pass in this book. So maligned in the works of Tolkien and subsequent Tolkien imitators, the twist of making them more sympathetic than the elves is sweet. What upsets the applecart a bit is the fact that while the goblins may be more open-minded than the elves, they are also living in a police state with ruler so strange that I’m still trying to find a metaphorical or real-world equivalent to his Mighty Ghohg. Methinks I’m barking up the wrong tree with that, though. Methinks.
As strange as this may seem, the book that this reminded me the most of was the series of Avatar: The Last Airbender comics by Gene Luen Yang. Those books spend much of their time examining at length the intricacies of deconstructing an oppressive colonial system in a fantasy world, something that this book only touches on lightly. Yet even so, we live in a post-colonial world (for the most part). Colonialism didn’t go that well, and post-colonialism was botched in a variety of interesting and horrible ways. Which brings us to America in 2018, the year of this book’s publication. For kids reading this book today, a title that discusses prejudices born out of (often willful) ignorance coupled with warmongering and malicious leaders . . . golly, is there anything here that will speak to them? I won’t lie. This book will take some work to get through for some kids. Even dyed-in-the-wool comic book readers may stumble a little initially at the unfamiliar art style. But there will be a cadre of kids that stick with it. Kids that find the story of scholars in fantasy realms fascinating. And those kids are the ones that will cut through the treacle and figure out what this book is actually trying to say. I’d wager good money that more kids will get it than adults. A fascinating blend of the wholly original and what is normally overly familiar, Anderson and Yelchin are having way too much fun here. It shouldn’t be allowed. And I sure am glad that it was.
For ages 10 and up.
May 27, 2019
I had seen the cover of this, and knew a lot of people loved it, but didn't know what it was until a week ago, when Jill from the wonderful bookshop bbgb in Richmond told me I just HAD to read it! She was so right! What a delight! the book is, first of all, beautifully designed. Everything from the cover and endpapers to the paper itself and the fonts. Yelchin's art is fabulous, and the story is truly strange and fantastical, grotesque and funny at the same time!
October 11, 2018
M. T. Anderson is one of my all-time favorite writers, and this latest, a collaboration with illustrator Eugene Yelchin, is a witty wonder. This quirky novel, a collection of letters and dispatches concerning the ongoing strife between the Elves and the Goblins, is a brilliant reflection on nationalism, racism, and the frames that distort how we see people and events. It is rollickingly funny throughout as the titular Brangwain Spurge travels as an envoy (and secretly a spy) to Goblin country, where an earnest scholar named Werfel hosts him and attempts to accommodate this most ungracious of guests. Yelchin's Terry Gilliam-like illustrations record Brangwain's impressions of this new terrain and these new people. Ultimately, Spurge and his host realize that they are both pawns in a larger game of statecraft, and they form a friendship.
The central device of the book surprised me yet is also essential to its form. That's such a cryptic statement, but suffice it to say that Yelchin and Anderson make their political point by drawing our attention to words and images as vehicles for and reflections of propaganda and prejudice. Anderson's linguistic gusto and satirical sensibility married to Yelchin's simultaneous ornate and exaggerated illustrations make the book lushly and comically pleasurable, while the imminent likelihood of mutually guaranteed destruction bears a grim resemblance to our own geopolitical moment (significantly less pleasurable).
Against this grand narrative of vainglorious, autocratic leaders and corrupt, pusillanimous bureaucrats, Anderson and Yelchin hold out the slim hope of intimacy, companionship, and the power of friendship to undo old ills and teach new lessons. I also love--predictably for me because I study food in literature--the way that this encounter between nations plays out in the meals and tastes of the characters: "Spurge gagged. He pushed his plate away. He murmured that everything was to spicy. too smoky. Too heavy. Too greasy. All the flavors were too strong" (164). Racial difference is imagined as unpalatable. How meaningful, then, that by the end of the novel, the two friends share a pie and a bottle of wine: "It was not yet dinnertime, but among friends--friends who want to change the world togehter--new beginnings always call for a celebration" (518).
The central device of the book surprised me yet is also essential to its form. That's such a cryptic statement, but suffice it to say that Yelchin and Anderson make their political point by drawing our attention to words and images as vehicles for and reflections of propaganda and prejudice. Anderson's linguistic gusto and satirical sensibility married to Yelchin's simultaneous ornate and exaggerated illustrations make the book lushly and comically pleasurable, while the imminent likelihood of mutually guaranteed destruction bears a grim resemblance to our own geopolitical moment (significantly less pleasurable).
Against this grand narrative of vainglorious, autocratic leaders and corrupt, pusillanimous bureaucrats, Anderson and Yelchin hold out the slim hope of intimacy, companionship, and the power of friendship to undo old ills and teach new lessons. I also love--predictably for me because I study food in literature--the way that this encounter between nations plays out in the meals and tastes of the characters: "Spurge gagged. He pushed his plate away. He murmured that everything was to spicy. too smoky. Too heavy. Too greasy. All the flavors were too strong" (164). Racial difference is imagined as unpalatable. How meaningful, then, that by the end of the novel, the two friends share a pie and a bottle of wine: "It was not yet dinnertime, but among friends--friends who want to change the world togehter--new beginnings always call for a celebration" (518).
November 9, 2018
My favorite part of this book is that a goblin's love language is insults.
Honestly, I admired this, but it was not my favorite book of the year. Maybe I guessed the ending/twist too early, but it felt too long. I hope there aren't too many kids who fail to finish the story, because the pay-off at the end is worth it.
This is an excellent exploration of prejudice and politics. Annoyingly, my library has put it in our Teen section, but I think it will work best for ages 10-12 (and it's sophisticated enough for adult readers). I also think it will work best if the child reader has the opportunity to discuss it. It's complicated and surprising and definitely begs to be discussed and dissected.
I'm not a big fan of LOTR myself, but I got the feeling that this would appeal to Tolkienists.
Finally, you can add this to a relatively small number of children's books that don't have child main characters. (THE TWENTY-ONE BALLOONS is another.)
Honestly, I admired this, but it was not my favorite book of the year. Maybe I guessed the ending/twist too early, but it felt too long. I hope there aren't too many kids who fail to finish the story, because the pay-off at the end is worth it.
This is an excellent exploration of prejudice and politics. Annoyingly, my library has put it in our Teen section, but I think it will work best for ages 10-12 (and it's sophisticated enough for adult readers). I also think it will work best if the child reader has the opportunity to discuss it. It's complicated and surprising and definitely begs to be discussed and dissected.
I'm not a big fan of LOTR myself, but I got the feeling that this would appeal to Tolkienists.
Finally, you can add this to a relatively small number of children's books that don't have child main characters. (THE TWENTY-ONE BALLOONS is another.)
August 2, 2021
Buonasera.
Oggi sarà nostro compito cercare di rispondere a un quesito storico della massima importanza: perché, in ogni romanzo fantasy che si rispetti, Elfi e Goblin passano il tempo a massacrasi in epiche quanto sanguinose battaglie campali?
Quando, dove, come e perché è nato quest'odio insuperabile?
A confrontarsi su questo tema saranno con noi stasera i due massimi storici dei rispettivi reami: il Maestro Brangwain Spurge, esperto di storia elfica nonché bibliotecario di Dwelholm dalle bianche torri, e il dotto Archivista Werfel, Storico di Corte del potente e malvagio Ghohg il Tenebroso, Signore dei Goblin.
Lasciamo subito la parola al sapiente elfo.
Maestro Spurge, ci dica, da dove nasce quest'odio millenario?
«Mi dica lei, piuttosto, come si potrebbe non odiare una schiatta ripugnante di guerrafondai dagli usi brutali e dai costumi osceni, un'orribile genia di cui il qui presente stimatissimo collega ne rappresenta il perfetto compendio.»
Che partenza, Maestro.
Archivista Werfel, come intende replicare?
«Vorrei sommessamente ricordare al dottissimo Maestro Spurge che sono stati gli Elfi ad attaccarci per primi, più di mille anni or sono, privandoci della nostra terra e costringendoci a trovare rifugio oltre le inospitali montagne Ossacrudeli. Deduco che non avete mai letto Elfi. Se li conosci li eviti di Gulthrud Brodge, in cui le responsabilità del vostro popolo sono descritte con somma dovizia di argomenti.»
«Credo che sia citato brevemente in un’opera elfica di gran lunga superiore, Di massacri, squartamenti e altre atrocità Goblin di Beaugiuste di Varenne.»
«Ma ricordo che il volume di Varenne è molto più recente e perciò non tanto affidabile sulla storia delle antiche guerre degli albori quanto il resoconto di un testimone oculare come Tschump Welty nelle Cronache degli elfi barbari.»
«Venerabile Archivista, avete mai letto La storia vittoriosa degli eserciti elfici, con un’appendice sulle più eleganti bardature per grifoni alati d'ogni tempo di Clévis de Lavieille? Dovreste. E se non lo avete fatto, non sono certo che possiate con qualche autorità…»
«Ah, stimatissimo Maestro, ma le tesi di Lavieille sono state smentite con argomenti inoppugnabili da L'Elfo urlante. La tortura delle dita e altre turpitudini elfiche di Grugh de Frighut. Molto raro. Molto raro davvero come volume, dubito che ne abbiate una copia nella vostra scintillante biblioteca, quindi forse non ne avete mai sentito parlare…»
«Invece sapevo che lo avreste tirato in ballo… Ma vi consiglierei piuttosto di leggere il maggiormente attendibile Orchi bugiardi. Perché i Goblin sono tutti da sterminare di Benjalin Tourlachaise; sono certo che lo troverete illuminante.»
«Stimatissimo Maestro Spurge, lasciatevelo dire, siete un vero cretino!»
«Venerabile Archivista Werfel, e voi siete un perfetto idiota!»
Benissimo, purtroppo il tempo a nostra disposizione è giunto al termine, e mentre i nostri ospiti si stanno salutando cortesemente scambiandosi vibranti ceffoni, io vi ricordo che, se volete leggere un vero trattato sulla tolleranza, sul pacifismo e sulla lotta ad ogni forma di pregiudizio, non lasciatevi scappare La guerra segreta tra Elfi e Goblin di M.T. Anderson ed Eugene Yelchin, i cui strambi protagonisti ci hanno fatto compagnia questa sera.
Alla prossima!
Oggi sarà nostro compito cercare di rispondere a un quesito storico della massima importanza: perché, in ogni romanzo fantasy che si rispetti, Elfi e Goblin passano il tempo a massacrasi in epiche quanto sanguinose battaglie campali?
Quando, dove, come e perché è nato quest'odio insuperabile?
A confrontarsi su questo tema saranno con noi stasera i due massimi storici dei rispettivi reami: il Maestro Brangwain Spurge, esperto di storia elfica nonché bibliotecario di Dwelholm dalle bianche torri, e il dotto Archivista Werfel, Storico di Corte del potente e malvagio Ghohg il Tenebroso, Signore dei Goblin.
Lasciamo subito la parola al sapiente elfo.
Maestro Spurge, ci dica, da dove nasce quest'odio millenario?
«Mi dica lei, piuttosto, come si potrebbe non odiare una schiatta ripugnante di guerrafondai dagli usi brutali e dai costumi osceni, un'orribile genia di cui il qui presente stimatissimo collega ne rappresenta il perfetto compendio.»
Che partenza, Maestro.
Archivista Werfel, come intende replicare?
«Vorrei sommessamente ricordare al dottissimo Maestro Spurge che sono stati gli Elfi ad attaccarci per primi, più di mille anni or sono, privandoci della nostra terra e costringendoci a trovare rifugio oltre le inospitali montagne Ossacrudeli. Deduco che non avete mai letto Elfi. Se li conosci li eviti di Gulthrud Brodge, in cui le responsabilità del vostro popolo sono descritte con somma dovizia di argomenti.»
«Credo che sia citato brevemente in un’opera elfica di gran lunga superiore, Di massacri, squartamenti e altre atrocità Goblin di Beaugiuste di Varenne.»
«Ma ricordo che il volume di Varenne è molto più recente e perciò non tanto affidabile sulla storia delle antiche guerre degli albori quanto il resoconto di un testimone oculare come Tschump Welty nelle Cronache degli elfi barbari.»
«Venerabile Archivista, avete mai letto La storia vittoriosa degli eserciti elfici, con un’appendice sulle più eleganti bardature per grifoni alati d'ogni tempo di Clévis de Lavieille? Dovreste. E se non lo avete fatto, non sono certo che possiate con qualche autorità…»
«Ah, stimatissimo Maestro, ma le tesi di Lavieille sono state smentite con argomenti inoppugnabili da L'Elfo urlante. La tortura delle dita e altre turpitudini elfiche di Grugh de Frighut. Molto raro. Molto raro davvero come volume, dubito che ne abbiate una copia nella vostra scintillante biblioteca, quindi forse non ne avete mai sentito parlare…»
«Invece sapevo che lo avreste tirato in ballo… Ma vi consiglierei piuttosto di leggere il maggiormente attendibile Orchi bugiardi. Perché i Goblin sono tutti da sterminare di Benjalin Tourlachaise; sono certo che lo troverete illuminante.»
«Stimatissimo Maestro Spurge, lasciatevelo dire, siete un vero cretino!»
«Venerabile Archivista Werfel, e voi siete un perfetto idiota!»
Benissimo, purtroppo il tempo a nostra disposizione è giunto al termine, e mentre i nostri ospiti si stanno salutando cortesemente scambiandosi vibranti ceffoni, io vi ricordo che, se volete leggere un vero trattato sulla tolleranza, sul pacifismo e sulla lotta ad ogni forma di pregiudizio, non lasciatevi scappare La guerra segreta tra Elfi e Goblin di M.T. Anderson ed Eugene Yelchin, i cui strambi protagonisti ci hanno fatto compagnia questa sera.
Alla prossima!
November 6, 2020
Well, I was going to write a review, but Betsy Bird has already written the definitive review for this book.
I will simply say, I loved it! It was a random sighting on Goodreads and my library happened to have a copy, and it was a match made in heaven.
This is a timeless book. It could have been written in 1968 just as well as in 2018. Not just suitable for literally all ages, but also recommendable for all.
I will simply say, I loved it! It was a random sighting on Goodreads and my library happened to have a copy, and it was a match made in heaven.
This is a timeless book. It could have been written in 1968 just as well as in 2018. Not just suitable for literally all ages, but also recommendable for all.
February 5, 2019
If ever there was a book that used satire and the unreliable narrator with a deft, dry touch whilst still wholly appealing to children then this is that book. The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge might be seen as the disgruntled older pubescent sibling of Zelnick’s wriiten narrative/wordless format but it is also far sharper, clever and deeply political for being so.
Anderson and Yelchin’s world is one of goblins and elves who have spent much of their past at war with each other. But the elves now seek to renew their peace and send across the borders an elfin historian, Brangwain Spurge, with a gift for the goblins. Meanwhile, at the other end, Werfel, the goblin archivist, has been tasked with the job of entertaining his esteemed guest and giving him a tour of his city before the gift can be handed over to their supreme ruler: Ghogh – a nebulous, black creature from a wholly different dimension.
But all is not what it seems in this story for the elf’s mission is not quite honest and both his world and his hosts is being cunningly manipulated by outside forces. Can Brangwain see past his prejudices and acknowledge the greater truth before it is all too late?
A fantasy that is, perhaps, more real than the fake news we encounter daily today and certainly a satire on all political skewing of ‘outsiders’ and ‘others’, what Anderson offers in words and Yelchin in his Boschesque illustrations is a story from two different perspectives. Whose narrative can be trusted is another matter altogether but by the end of it, the reader will doubtless be in a place where they have the sense to question the propagandist images in their own world and reconsider what the truth is in their own lives.
Whatever the impact of the book on the reader, Anderson and Yelchin make for a wonderful partnership and beyond its ideological ramifications, The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge is very, very funny.
Anderson and Yelchin’s world is one of goblins and elves who have spent much of their past at war with each other. But the elves now seek to renew their peace and send across the borders an elfin historian, Brangwain Spurge, with a gift for the goblins. Meanwhile, at the other end, Werfel, the goblin archivist, has been tasked with the job of entertaining his esteemed guest and giving him a tour of his city before the gift can be handed over to their supreme ruler: Ghogh – a nebulous, black creature from a wholly different dimension.
But all is not what it seems in this story for the elf’s mission is not quite honest and both his world and his hosts is being cunningly manipulated by outside forces. Can Brangwain see past his prejudices and acknowledge the greater truth before it is all too late?
A fantasy that is, perhaps, more real than the fake news we encounter daily today and certainly a satire on all political skewing of ‘outsiders’ and ‘others’, what Anderson offers in words and Yelchin in his Boschesque illustrations is a story from two different perspectives. Whose narrative can be trusted is another matter altogether but by the end of it, the reader will doubtless be in a place where they have the sense to question the propagandist images in their own world and reconsider what the truth is in their own lives.
Whatever the impact of the book on the reader, Anderson and Yelchin make for a wonderful partnership and beyond its ideological ramifications, The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge is very, very funny.
August 22, 2022
Estetica: non avendo trovato il volume in biblioteca, ho deciso di acquistarlo, fatto non banale dato che per motivi logistico-economici acquisto solo libri che sono certa di voler tenere nella mia futura libreria.
E’ stata una gradita sorpresa scoprire che il volume è molto bello, con copertina rigida che lo fa sembrare un antico libro da collezione (se si esclude l’angolo in basso a destra, che mostra inspiegabile segni circolari simili a impronte di dentini di gatto di circa tre mesi e mezzo). Anche le illustrazioni interne non sono da meno, quindi, nella peggiore delle ipotesi, il mio senso estetico ne è stato appagato.
Forma e contenuto: scritto molto bene, scorrevole e accattivante, con una trama ben strutturata ed originale, personaggi ottimi e battute divertenti. L’alternanza con alcune parti narrate in forma grafica impreziosisce il tutto, data la qualità delle illustrazioni.
Punto forte: le lettere di Lord Ysoret Clivers, il modificarsi progressivo del loro tono e, soprattutto, del logo finale.
Perché allora sembra che in fondo a tutto questo debba esserci un ‘ma…’?
Perché c’è: mi sono divertita, ma forse le mie aspettative erano così alte che pensavo mi sarei ribaltata per terra dalle risate dall’inizio alla fine, dovendo anche asciugarmi le lacrime ma così non è stato.
(E poi non posso dare troppa soddisfazione a Savasandir che ha consigliato questo libro).
E’ stata una gradita sorpresa scoprire che il volume è molto bello, con copertina rigida che lo fa sembrare un antico libro da collezione (se si esclude l’angolo in basso a destra, che mostra inspiegabile segni circolari simili a impronte di dentini di gatto di circa tre mesi e mezzo). Anche le illustrazioni interne non sono da meno, quindi, nella peggiore delle ipotesi, il mio senso estetico ne è stato appagato.
Forma e contenuto: scritto molto bene, scorrevole e accattivante, con una trama ben strutturata ed originale, personaggi ottimi e battute divertenti. L’alternanza con alcune parti narrate in forma grafica impreziosisce il tutto, data la qualità delle illustrazioni.
Punto forte: le lettere di Lord Ysoret Clivers, il modificarsi progressivo del loro tono e, soprattutto, del logo finale.
Perché allora sembra che in fondo a tutto questo debba esserci un ‘ma…’?
Perché c’è: mi sono divertita, ma forse le mie aspettative erano così alte che pensavo mi sarei ribaltata per terra dalle risate dall’inizio alla fine, dovendo anche asciugarmi le lacrime ma così non è stato.
(E poi non posso dare troppa soddisfazione a Savasandir che ha consigliato questo libro).
November 5, 2018
This is a *really* fun take on the unreliable narrator. As an adult reader, it didn't take me long to figure out why the illustrations and text weren't matching up, but this is such a great way to introduce this concept to younger readers (not to mention all the commentary on revisionist history, colonialism, etc).
I'm curious how much appeal this will have with kids - I feel like the satirical elements will go over their heads - but there's enough overt humour and adventure to keep them hooked, I think.
My one hang-up is that the art is printed really weird. It's hard to explain, but some of the illustrations looked like they were too.. pixelated? It reminded me of a digital image that's been blown out too much. However, there were other instances where the art was very detailed and clear. I dunno, maybe it's just me.
Otherwise though, I really liked this. Very relevant in our "post-truth"/"fake news" world.
I'm curious how much appeal this will have with kids - I feel like the satirical elements will go over their heads - but there's enough overt humour and adventure to keep them hooked, I think.
My one hang-up is that the art is printed really weird. It's hard to explain, but some of the illustrations looked like they were too.. pixelated? It reminded me of a digital image that's been blown out too much. However, there were other instances where the art was very detailed and clear. I dunno, maybe it's just me.
Otherwise though, I really liked this. Very relevant in our "post-truth"/"fake news" world.
October 27, 2018
There is no doubt this is brilliant, but often I found myself as confused as an Elf in a Goblin world.
July 12, 2022
This is how you write not-antisemitic goblins. A+ full stars for that.
Anti-monarchy is always a plus.
Anti-monarchy is always a plus.
March 11, 2019
The Elves have battled the Goblins for centuries and despite the commonality of pointed ears (not Vulcan), they are mortal enemies. The Elves find a unique jewel, which they think is a Goblin creation and send an emissary to deliver it to the Goblin king. Brangwain Spurge is kind of prissy and a stooge, not realizing he is a pawn in a game of deadly politics. His host, a Goblin scholar, names Werfel, does his best to be a good host, trying to show all of the high points of Goblin society, but Spurge is an ungracious pill. Eventually, they have to make a run for their lives, bringing them together as co-conspirators and eventual friends. Lots of social and political commentary cloaked in the story. A bit reminiscent of Terry Pratchett (i.e., high praise) in my opinion. The other unique thing about this book is there are 4-5 written chapters and then one of illustrations, which is fun for the readers and I think the collaborators, despite their silly postlude.
P.S. The insults between Werfel and his neighbors, as a means of showing love reminded me a little of the scene from Gran Torino when Clint Eastwood is trying to teach his Korean mentee to "man up" in the barbershop.
P.S. The insults between Werfel and his neighbors, as a means of showing love reminded me a little of the scene from Gran Torino when Clint Eastwood is trying to teach his Korean mentee to "man up" in the barbershop.
June 6, 2020
If you are my Goodreads friend, you can probably imagine that when life is tough I escape into books. Yesterday, I decided to read this fantasy book which I had bought as a hardcover two years ago and had never gotten around to reading.
At first I was finding it slow and boring, but now I am in awe of the relevant and timely allegory the author and illustrator have created. Here is what the illustrator had to say about the collabortion, “I wanted to work on a book in which the pictures wouldn’t illustrate the text like they normally do. Instead, they would actually disagree with it. They would tell a very different story.”
And here are the author’s words to describe the book, “a story about a bookish , somewhat meek, maybe even uptight elfin historian trying to describe the culture of the goblins. He would misunderstand the wonders and terrors he saw, the mysteries of a society very different from his own. He would send home images full of errors.”
So here is my take on what I read: A book about how those in power get to create the narrative that influences how we perceive those who are different from us to the point where we cannot see the commonalities between us.
In this case it is an elf and a goblin, but really it is about out humanity’s lack of empathy and understanding and how that results in not recognizing someone else’s humanity. And if that wasn’t deep enough, it is about how those in power can actually see those similarities even as they try, and often succeed, in making us blind to them. In making us create an alternate reality in which we express what we think we should be seeing, instead of what is actually there.
This is supposed to be a thinly veiled criticism of the explorers of old who misunderstood and misrepresented the cultures they encountered in their voyages, but reading it in the cultural climate almost two week after George Floyd was murdered, it can also apply to the systemic racism and oppression that permeates our daily lives.
At first I was finding it slow and boring, but now I am in awe of the relevant and timely allegory the author and illustrator have created. Here is what the illustrator had to say about the collabortion, “I wanted to work on a book in which the pictures wouldn’t illustrate the text like they normally do. Instead, they would actually disagree with it. They would tell a very different story.”
And here are the author’s words to describe the book, “a story about a bookish , somewhat meek, maybe even uptight elfin historian trying to describe the culture of the goblins. He would misunderstand the wonders and terrors he saw, the mysteries of a society very different from his own. He would send home images full of errors.”
So here is my take on what I read: A book about how those in power get to create the narrative that influences how we perceive those who are different from us to the point where we cannot see the commonalities between us.
In this case it is an elf and a goblin, but really it is about out humanity’s lack of empathy and understanding and how that results in not recognizing someone else’s humanity. And if that wasn’t deep enough, it is about how those in power can actually see those similarities even as they try, and often succeed, in making us blind to them. In making us create an alternate reality in which we express what we think we should be seeing, instead of what is actually there.
This is supposed to be a thinly veiled criticism of the explorers of old who misunderstood and misrepresented the cultures they encountered in their voyages, but reading it in the cultural climate almost two week after George Floyd was murdered, it can also apply to the systemic racism and oppression that permeates our daily lives.
October 31, 2024
A cute but incisive middle grade book about nationalism and the blinders that come with believing one’s own side is always in the right, as seen through a conflict between elven and goblin kingdoms, and a scholar from each who is caught up in diplomatic machinations. It’s definitely an old-school style children’s book: the leads are all adults and all male, it assumes an intelligent audience, and there’s some cruel humor kids will no doubt appreciate.
There are also goofy illustrations—perhaps the best part, as one point-of-view is shown entirely through pictures, and yet that character is an unreliable narrator, which is innovative and fun to see. (After all, what we see is filtered through what we feel, understand and believe.) Another POV is shown entirely through letters, and the third through regular third-person narration. There’s action and excitement, friendship, and a satisfying ending. The characters’ personalities are well-drawn, and their acting in accordance with their conditioning and gradual changes as they experience more are portrayed believably. There are surprisingly sharp observations for a kids’ book, too:
“You were useful,” said Werfel. “But just because you’re useful to the wealthy doesn’t mean they’ll reward you. It just means they’ll use you.”
Overall, I definitely liked this: it’s a strong all-ages read that kids would likely enjoy (per my copy, ages 10+) but that’s smart, creative and fun enough to appeal to adults too.
There are also goofy illustrations—perhaps the best part, as one point-of-view is shown entirely through pictures, and yet that character is an unreliable narrator, which is innovative and fun to see. (After all, what we see is filtered through what we feel, understand and believe.) Another POV is shown entirely through letters, and the third through regular third-person narration. There’s action and excitement, friendship, and a satisfying ending. The characters’ personalities are well-drawn, and their acting in accordance with their conditioning and gradual changes as they experience more are portrayed believably. There are surprisingly sharp observations for a kids’ book, too:
“You were useful,” said Werfel. “But just because you’re useful to the wealthy doesn’t mean they’ll reward you. It just means they’ll use you.”
Overall, I definitely liked this: it’s a strong all-ages read that kids would likely enjoy (per my copy, ages 10+) but that’s smart, creative and fun enough to appeal to adults too.
November 17, 2018
Want another illustrated story recommendation? How about this one? It's dark, it's humorous, and it is a lot of fun to read as you see one person's POV as illustrations and the other's POV written out. Two view points from two sides of an old, ongoing war (elves vs. goblins).
Poor Werfel has to put up with so much shit!
Poor Werfel has to put up with so much shit!
Read
December 26, 2018All I will say is that I knew it was going to be Not For Me and indeed it was Not For Me at all. But I think it did its thing admirably even though I didn’t enjoy or admire it.
July 21, 2023
this was just delightful. very terry pratchett/douglas adams/monty pythonesque
June 5, 2023
You really don’t get many good novels about elves and goblins these days. Anderson and Yelchin’s novel centers on the important mission of a feebly elf who is seen by his kind as a total loser. He is tasked with crossing through dangerous locations to deliver a gift to a goblin kingdom as an attempt to protect their elf land, but it all takes a quirky turn when he and his goblin host get entangled on a whole other adventure.
It’s a very strange but funny and adventurous tale with some well-drawn transmissions that tell Spurge’s adventure. What makes it more unique is its cast of oddity characters and dialogue. It’s a pretty good choice for fantasy readers who want more elves and goblins in their reading diet. A elfish zero to hero. B+ (83%/Very Good)
It’s a very strange but funny and adventurous tale with some well-drawn transmissions that tell Spurge’s adventure. What makes it more unique is its cast of oddity characters and dialogue. It’s a pretty good choice for fantasy readers who want more elves and goblins in their reading diet. A elfish zero to hero. B+ (83%/Very Good)
April 3, 2020
This book had been on my TBR list since I saw it on the shelf. Just flipping through it, you quickly see that this is something different. Eugene Yelchin's artwork is so unique and strange, very Brian Froud-esque, I knew this would appeal to my Dark Crystal/Labyrinth fangirl heart.
The story is quirky and weird, but at its heart, it is about prejudice and biases and how we see "others" when we don't really know them. It is far smarter than it might look at first glance, especially when Spurge has to sneak into the Goblin undercity by crawling down a toilet. But don't be fooled, there are layers here.
The story is quirky and weird, but at its heart, it is about prejudice and biases and how we see "others" when we don't really know them. It is far smarter than it might look at first glance, especially when Spurge has to sneak into the Goblin undercity by crawling down a toilet. But don't be fooled, there are layers here.
December 10, 2018
An elf ambassador, Brangwain Spurge, is sent to the city of goblins to offer a gift of goodwill, a recently-found ancient artifact, after centuries of war and hostility. His goblin host, Werfel, is looking forward to the experience. He understands they both share a career and passion for history and learning, so he looks forward to bonding and founding an unprecedented, enlightened friendship with Spurge, while sharing the sights and sounds of his beloved city. But when Spurge arrives... things don't go so well. Spurge seems disgusted with every new thing learned about the goblins. Werfel struggles to make him happy, but nothing works. Meanwhile, political forces are rising from both sides. Is it war, or peace, that is on the horizon?
A super clever political satire. The awkward conversations between Werfel and Spurge are painfully hilarious to read. Eugene Yelchin's artwork is both spectacularly bizarre, and revealing in how our perception is shaped by prejudice and assumption.
A super clever political satire. The awkward conversations between Werfel and Spurge are painfully hilarious to read. Eugene Yelchin's artwork is both spectacularly bizarre, and revealing in how our perception is shaped by prejudice and assumption.
April 16, 2023
Delightful shades of Vonnegut and Pratchett, but as only Anderson and Yelchin could channel them.
October 22, 2020
Książka, obok której nie można przejść obojętnie - z wielu względów. Zaczynając od pierwszego wrażenia, czyli zachwycającego wydania, tak pięknego, jak piękne są stare księgi w starych bibliotekach. Warstwa wizualna została dopracowana do perfekcji, nie mogę się do niczego przyczepić. Okładka wyważona, spójna, ze złoconymi elementami, nie ma tu nic "za dużo" ani "za mało". Kolorystycznie cacuszko! Lecz okładka jest jedynie wstępem do wnętrza, a to "wnętrze" skrywa fantastyczne niespodzianki. Całą paletę niespodzianek. "Zabójstwo Brangwina Kąkola" jest powieścią na wpół graficzną, na wpół literacką. Za ilustracje odpowiadał Eugene Yelchin, zaś za słowa M.T. Anderson. Obaj panowie olśniewają talentem, błyskotliwością i niebywałym wzajemnym zrozumieniem dzieła, które tworzą. Dopełniają się, tak bardzo do siebie pasują, że czytelnik przestaje zauważać to, czy czyta, czy ogląda. Jest w tej nietypowej opowieści lekkość i wyczuwalna, namacalna wręcz przyjemność - przyjemność tworzenia. Widać, że autorzy mieli frajdę i włożyli w to serce.
Nie jest to jednak banalna historia, którą opowiedziano wyłącznie dla rozrywki gawiedzi. "Zabójstwo Brangwina Kąkola", to wnikliwa analiza ludzkich zachowań, gorszącej władzy, elit, które elitami są wyłącznie z samonadania i nazwy. Znajdziemy tu "szarych obywateli" dwóch zwalczających się królestw : elfiego i goblińskiego. Autorzy dokonali ciekawego zabiegu, o którym chyba nie mogę wam tu napisać, bo bym zdradziła wiele, ale zdecydowanie pomysł zasługuje na głośnie brawa.
Uderzyła mnie w tej książce prawda, bo jak to z prawdą bywa - nawet z tą oczywistą, o której istnieniu wiemy - bije po pysku. Choć w książce tej znajdujemy moc humoru, który jest pięknie wyważony i faktycznie zabawny, to wyłania się z niej także smutek, bo smutne jest, że to trafna diagnoza, że tacy jesteśmy i że taki świat tworzymy. Co jakiś czas wywołujemy wojny, a codziennie wywołujemy małe wojenki i zarówno te wielkie, jak i te małe w konsekwencji tylko niszczą. Nasze uprzedzenia często wynikają z niezrozumienia, dlatego takie ważne jest podjęcie wysiłku, otwarcie się na drugiego człowieka, bo prywatne sądy zazwyczaj są odbiciem w krzywym zwierciadle nagromadzonych przez lata kłamstw wbijanych nam do głowy przez władców świata. Rozmowa! Rozmowa! I jeszcze raz ROZMOWA. Rozmawiajmy ze sobą, uczymy się od siebie i słuchajmy się wzajemnie - to nam może tylko wyjść na dobre.
Brangwin Kąkol, czyli jeden z głównych bohaterów i jednocześnie bohater tytułowy, elf historyk na początku zraża do siebie wszystkich, również czytelnika, lecz poznaje Werfela, goblina archiwistę, który wywróci jego światopogląd do góry nogami. Co ta dwójka nawywija, ile arystokratycznej krwi napsuje, jakie międzynarodowe nieporozumienia wywoła - tego tutaj nie sposób opisać. Śledzenie ich losów było dla mnie wielką przyjemnością i bardzo się cieszę, że sięgnęłam po tę książkę.
Podziwiam talent obu panów. M.T. Anderson pisze doskonale. Ma charakterystyczny styl i cięty dowcip (cięty, ale elegancki). Jego pomysłowość przerosła moje oczekiwania, bo kto to słyszał o dwugłowym ośle, który sam nie wie, dokąd iść i gdzie ma tył, a gdzie przód (spróbuj człowieku, elfie i goblinie na nim dojechać do celu). Co zaś się tyczy Eugenea Yelchina... świetna robota, ostra kreska, wyrazista, groteskowa i doskonale oddająca klimat opowieści. Ogólnie całość : perełeczka.
9/10
Wydawnictwo Dwie Siostry
Nie jest to jednak banalna historia, którą opowiedziano wyłącznie dla rozrywki gawiedzi. "Zabójstwo Brangwina Kąkola", to wnikliwa analiza ludzkich zachowań, gorszącej władzy, elit, które elitami są wyłącznie z samonadania i nazwy. Znajdziemy tu "szarych obywateli" dwóch zwalczających się królestw : elfiego i goblińskiego. Autorzy dokonali ciekawego zabiegu, o którym chyba nie mogę wam tu napisać, bo bym zdradziła wiele, ale zdecydowanie pomysł zasługuje na głośnie brawa.
Uderzyła mnie w tej książce prawda, bo jak to z prawdą bywa - nawet z tą oczywistą, o której istnieniu wiemy - bije po pysku. Choć w książce tej znajdujemy moc humoru, który jest pięknie wyważony i faktycznie zabawny, to wyłania się z niej także smutek, bo smutne jest, że to trafna diagnoza, że tacy jesteśmy i że taki świat tworzymy. Co jakiś czas wywołujemy wojny, a codziennie wywołujemy małe wojenki i zarówno te wielkie, jak i te małe w konsekwencji tylko niszczą. Nasze uprzedzenia często wynikają z niezrozumienia, dlatego takie ważne jest podjęcie wysiłku, otwarcie się na drugiego człowieka, bo prywatne sądy zazwyczaj są odbiciem w krzywym zwierciadle nagromadzonych przez lata kłamstw wbijanych nam do głowy przez władców świata. Rozmowa! Rozmowa! I jeszcze raz ROZMOWA. Rozmawiajmy ze sobą, uczymy się od siebie i słuchajmy się wzajemnie - to nam może tylko wyjść na dobre.
Brangwin Kąkol, czyli jeden z głównych bohaterów i jednocześnie bohater tytułowy, elf historyk na początku zraża do siebie wszystkich, również czytelnika, lecz poznaje Werfela, goblina archiwistę, który wywróci jego światopogląd do góry nogami. Co ta dwójka nawywija, ile arystokratycznej krwi napsuje, jakie międzynarodowe nieporozumienia wywoła - tego tutaj nie sposób opisać. Śledzenie ich losów było dla mnie wielką przyjemnością i bardzo się cieszę, że sięgnęłam po tę książkę.
Podziwiam talent obu panów. M.T. Anderson pisze doskonale. Ma charakterystyczny styl i cięty dowcip (cięty, ale elegancki). Jego pomysłowość przerosła moje oczekiwania, bo kto to słyszał o dwugłowym ośle, który sam nie wie, dokąd iść i gdzie ma tył, a gdzie przód (spróbuj człowieku, elfie i goblinie na nim dojechać do celu). Co zaś się tyczy Eugenea Yelchina... świetna robota, ostra kreska, wyrazista, groteskowa i doskonale oddająca klimat opowieści. Ogólnie całość : perełeczka.
9/10
Wydawnictwo Dwie Siostry
January 25, 2019
MT Anderson has a terrific range of writing styles! Every book that he has written so far is an absolute winner, each for different reasons. I never would have guessed him to come up with something this fanciful, political, and imaginative in such a unique style! Well, he did it. I could hardly put it down.
Can't wait to see what Anderson comes up with next!
* I just got the hardcopy version of this book from the library because, since I audiobooked this story, I missed out on all of the illustrations. The illustrations are so brilliant that I highly recommend reading the hardcopy version. If you decide to audiobook this title I would suggest checking out the hardcopy book and following along chapter by chapter so that you can delight in the very clever and unique illustrations! Well done, Mr. Yelchin!
Can't wait to see what Anderson comes up with next!
* I just got the hardcopy version of this book from the library because, since I audiobooked this story, I missed out on all of the illustrations. The illustrations are so brilliant that I highly recommend reading the hardcopy version. If you decide to audiobook this title I would suggest checking out the hardcopy book and following along chapter by chapter so that you can delight in the very clever and unique illustrations! Well done, Mr. Yelchin!
September 3, 2018
The Assassination of Brangwain Spurge takes me back to the whimsy and invention of classics like The Phantom Tollbooth, Willy Wonky, and The Yellow Submarine. A comedy of etiquette errors, of historical hilarities… it’s been a long time since I genuinely laughed out loud while reading a book. I might have snorted once or twice (no witnesses). It’s easy for me to say that Yeltsin’s iconic art style and Anderson’s wit make this one an instant classic in YA fantasy literature.
For my full review: https://paulspicks.blog/2018/09/03/th...
For all my reviews: https://paulspicks.blog
For my full review: https://paulspicks.blog/2018/09/03/th...
For all my reviews: https://paulspicks.blog
January 24, 2019
As always, M.T. Anderson's book is bizarre, humorous, twistily intelligent. The satirical humor is both dry and absurd, and there's some really fun exploration of the unreliable narrative concept. The 3 star rating is entirely based on my subjective experience: I liked the book, I recognize the superior craftsmanship that went into it, but I just didn't connect with it meaningfully. For me, it stayed a fun intellectual exercise, but not emotionally compelling in either plot or character development. For me, the illustrations felt less integral to the text than was the intention; they were a fun counterpoint to the text, but didn't pull the full weight of their bulk in the pages.
November 27, 2018
All of M.T. Anderson's books are so weird and I love them so much. He's such a funny, incisive author no matter what he's talking about. This book was a real trip. I also loved Eugene Yelchin's illustrations, and the whole conceit is so clever and so well-excecuted.
I feel like this has appeal and accessibility for a wide range of ages--the language is pretty simple and straightforward but the story and concepts are complicated. I think it would be great to discuss in a classroom or book club setting.
I feel like this has appeal and accessibility for a wide range of ages--the language is pretty simple and straightforward but the story and concepts are complicated. I think it would be great to discuss in a classroom or book club setting.
November 22, 2021
I picked up this odd bird in a small book sale on my college campus. The illustrations are so fun, and the plot line is funky to match. While the book was cute, it was densely political and sometimes hard to follow. However, this follows closely with its themes of untrustworthy narrators, biased perspectives, and convoluted stories about war and political tension. If you liked The Invention of Hugo Cabret, this is a very close style. Very interesting.
September 12, 2018
I’m just going to let everyone else gush over this one. I’m not the right person for the job.
January 20, 2019
A snowday turned this 500+ doorstop into a one-sitting read.
February 28, 2022
I would die for Skardebek, that lovely icthyod.
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