Project Muse 900329
Project Muse 900329
Kate Quealy-Gainer
Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books, Volume 76, Number 11,
July/August 2023, pp. 353-354 (Review)
It’s a readerly rite of passage to begin to notice the darker undertones of familiar
stories, to prod gently at the edges of uncertainty with the assurance that the book
can be closed at any time. Klassen has proved especially good at introducing new,
often solo, young readers to the unsettling but intriguing place where fear becomes
an essential narrative element, offering enough humor and absurdity to provide
comfort on the journey. Such is the case with The Skull, a reimagining of a Tyrolean
folktale that shows a young girl’s resolve against unnamed, unexplained threats.
The book opens with a menacingly simple statement: “One night, in the
middle of the night, while everyone else was asleep, Otilla finally ran away.” Fleeing
from an unknown danger, Otilla stumbles through the forest, eventually coming
to a large house. Upon knocking, she is greeted by a skull—bodiless—who allows
her to stay if she will carry him around (“I am just a skull, and rolling around is
difficult for me”). The skull is an affable tour guide as the two wander through the
house, eating pears in the garden room, dancing in the ballroom, and visiting the
dungeon with its bottomless pit. When dusk comes, the skull asks Otilla to stay
to protect him from the headless skeleton that comes to chase him nightly. Sure
enough, the headless skeleton does appear, but Otilla goes several steps beyond
merely protecting the skull: she pushes the skeleton over a ledge, smashes and
burns its bones, and then tosses the ashes down the bottomless pit. It’s a grim act
of violence, but it guarantees the skull’s and Otilla’s safety, and when dawn breaks,
golden and soft, readers are assured these two wounded souls will now begin the
work of healing each other and creating their own happy ending.
Klassen admits in the afterward that his version takes a much darker path
than the original iteration, in which the skull turns into a benevolent woman who
bestows gifts upon the young child. There is, perhaps, a similar sense of generosity
in Otilla’s protective act for the skull, but it’s clear her motivation for getting rid
of the skeleton is not just from her desire to save the skull but is also catharsis for
her fear and, notably, her rage. Readers never learn what or who is chasing Otilla,
but considering she’s willing to stay with a rolling skull in a strange and dangerous
house, it must be pretty bad; neither is it revealed what separated the skull from
its body and why the skull would like to keep it that way. Of course, it wouldn’t be
Klassen without a dash of the absurd. Ottila’s casual acceptance of a talking skull
and her willingness to feed him pears (that go right through him to the floor) and
hold him just so to dance keeps an irreverent thread running through the mostly
solemn tale.
354 • The Bulletin