THE SLEEPER AND THE SPINDLE, Neil Gaiman

I almost feel as though this should be considered a Short Review since The Sleeper and the Spindle pretty much qualifies as a short story in length. With its illustrations, it comes out to just under 70 pages. And honestly, it’s a concise, beautifully rendered story that doesn’t need much said, and shouldn’t have too much said to avoid spoilers, so forgive the brevity of this review.

As one should come to expect from Gaiman’s approach to rehashed fairy tales, the stories of Snow White and Sleeping Beauty weave together in both a new and familiar way, and with such seamless ease you’d think other writers would have tried to bring them together sooner. The opening action follows three of the seven dwarves visiting the cusp of Sleeping Beauty’s kingdom to procure fine cloth for Snow White’s upcoming wedding. Right away we glimpse at the devotion the dwarves have for her (if only these three—keeping the number of dwarves low is an understandable alteration for the sake of effective characterization) as well as understand where we are in Snow White’s story. 

But it’s also worth noting that no one ever calls her Snow White, nor are the dwarves or anyone given names. The two kingdoms of Snow and Sleeping Beauty—Kanselaire and Dorimar—are the only named things. The narrator admits that “names are in short supply in this telling.” This limited presence of nomenclature, particularly for characters, harkens back to many fairytales where characters are called either by their profession or some distinctive physical or personal trait. Gaiman does anchor us with geographic references and names, pulling his story a little more towards epic fantasy while still living primarily in the realm of simple fable.

The queen, as Snow White is now addressed, is showing trepidation over her future as a wife and queen bound to the traditional duties of a woman in her world, even while she expresses a short affectionate moment with her prince—but only after she receives word from her dwarves that a sleeping curse is creeping across Dorimar and threatens to overtake her own kingdom. She decides to postpone the wedding to deal with the matter herself. She and the three dwarves set out to stop the magic, venturing under mountain and through towns littered with sleeping residents who, much to their surprise, occasionally get up and lumber after the heroes in their cursed sleep. More terrifying than the snoozing zombie citizens is the lingering threat of the curse itself. The dwarves are resistant to its magic, as is the queen due to her being under a similar curse, but the danger hovers around them nonetheless, all the more when they reach Sleeping Beauty’s tower. The queen is remarkably stoic throughout her venture, the reason for which we see through flashbacks of her stepmother, which become relevant when she comes face-to-face with the cursed princess and the witch responsible for her fate.

The twist is too good to reveal here, so please read the story to enjoy it yourself. Perhaps due to the setting and the themes, the story feels understated in many parts, almost contemplative. I’d dare say there’s a flavor of Hemmingway in how deceptively plain certain scenes and bits of description and dialogue feel, like a hazy dream layered with too many emotions to express in words. I suppose that’s why, for me, the ending feels a little anticlimactic. Like I said, the reveal and climax are great, but given how the story starts, the dénouement borders on overtly predictable, and yet you’re not sure why it happens. Perhaps a second or third reading will yield a profound revelation I haven’t hit on yet.

Since I’m a reviewer of stories rather than illustrations, I can’t give much insight into Chris Riddel’s art beyond the fact that I find them gripping and beautiful. He conveys movement and atmosphere without showing everything, therefore walking an odd line between illustrated book and graphic novel. The unusual style might leave readers wanting more or less of a visual component. I think if the artist leaves you craving a little more, as he did me, he’s doing something right. In a way, he’s a mirror to Gaiman’s storytelling style, a marriage of style and simplicity that grips you, charms you, befuddles you with what you don’t directly see, and has you longing for more to satisfy this hunger you now have. That’s a kind of magic right there.

Rating: 4/5