Our journey begins on the title page, as two Victorian children and pet gazelle slip away from their father, treasure map in hand, and embark on an alphabetical path through a sewer populated with every sort of ghoul, only to emerge safe at home at the end. Following the “A is for … ” format, Gaiman’s text takes the form of 13 tight, evocative rhyming couplets, hand-lettered by Grimly. Page turns divide each couplet, moving the action forward and building the sense of mystery. The illustrations do double duty, telling the children’s story and filling each letter’s page with suitably ghastly, nominal matter. There’s some disturbing stuff on display (the sewer walls are lined with children bound in chains, straitjackets, and rusty manacles), but the character of the pictures, spiky and knobby and childlike, and a palette of beiges, accented by muted pastels, mitigates the creepiness. In the end, Gaiman and Grimly have combined forces to produce an acrid, gothic confection that bubbles with vitriol and wit.
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