What a fun read this was! I think this is my book of the year so far. And Gustave Doré is no fiction, by the way...although winking gryphons and entrepreneurial, dragon-slaying naked women are. I wish they weren't though. The Time Pig reminded me of Pink Floyd for some reason????

Spoiler Alert!

This book is fantastic for one reason: beneath its kitschy, playful exterior Walter Moers ponders on the pain of first love, the peer- pressure effect of society on the individual (the Titans that make up the Natural Sciences laugh at Gustave when he tells them his dreams of being an artist), philosophical meanderings on the absurdities of time (courtesy of the Time Pig) and finally, the meaning of life itself. Moers manages to weave all this into his writing with his signature usage of metaphors, and Gustave, with his naivety, manages to complete the tasks with gusto. I'd recommend this to anyone starting out on Walter Moers' books anytime. ( )

mit Illustrationen von Gustave Doré

not my cup of tea ( )

"I've got no idea what's gone wrong with your dreams of late, but they've definitely been getting wilder."
When your own dear personal psychopomp aka "dream princess" who is also your late great-great-great grandmother tells you this, you know you're in for a weird adventure. Of course, by the time twelve-year-old Gustave Dore meets his ancestress and hears this observation, he's already been on one for a good bit: captaining his own ship and all but losing it to the "Siamese Twin Tornados", meeting Death and his sister Dementia, saving a Damsel in Distress from her Dragon but learning that he kind of misread that situation a bit...

Wait? Meeting Death? Yes. Death wants the kid's soul, like now, and the only way young Gustave can avoid complying is by performing a series of tasks. Welcome to the wild, weird, wonderful world of Walter Moers, here exhibited as part Where the Wild Things Are, part Maakies (Drinky Crow and Uncle Gabby would have felt right at home on Gustave's ship), with a dash of the Twelve Labors of Hercules thrown in.

Every Walter Moers book I pick up becomes my new favorite Walter Moers, and A Wild Ride Through the Night is no exception, despite the absence of Moers' cartoons. That's not to say the book is unadorned by illustration, though; far from it. The story took its inspiration from twelve engravings by 19th century French engraver and illustrator Gustave Dore*, and these appear sequentially in the book (and, being engravings, look pretty okay in e-Ink, to my surprise), making it at least partly a sort of wry commentary on sequential art and how any sequence's story can be altered by any amount of interstitial storytelling; it can even be made into an imaginary portrait of the artist as a young man.

I've been a fan of Moers since I first stumbled across The City of Dreaming Books in the new books section of my public library a few years ago. With a title like that, how could I pass it by? That book was nothing like I'd expected, but altogether wonderful -- and the lovely thing about his Zamonia books* (I mean, besides their inherent charm and their amazing, adorable illustrations) is that any one of them is a wonderful introduction to this world, populated by sentient, literate, civilized dinosaurs, adventuring educated dogs, blue bears who captain ships, and yes, dreaming books. But also, any one of them is a total gateway drug; once you've sampled from it, if it's at all to your taste, you will feel utterly compelled to go and get them all. So, you know, here.

A Wild Ride Through the Night is an earlier work than the Zamonia books, but already quite a mature one: Moers has already worked out his signature style (and so has his translator, John Brownjohn), blending whimsy, satire and pathos with fairly strong character creation (Lil' Gustave is no Rumo, but who is?) and a whole lot of just plain WTFery. If you don't laugh at loud at some of these bits, see your psychiatrist. And while a lot of the weirdest stuff (like a monstrous flying pig with lizard/goat legs) originated from the fevered imagination of Dore, I really don't think Dore could have come up with the kind of dialogue Moers gives to such grotesqueries. Truly, he is like no other writer, living or dead.

But you know, if you can't have Moers illustrations in a Moers book, Dore will do. Yes, yes he will.

This one needs SIX stars. SIX.

*Illustrations used are taken from "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner", Orlando Furioso, "The Raven", Don Quixote, Legend of Croquemitane, Gargantua and Pantagruel, Paradise Lost, and the Bible. ( )

Moers is a master at modern mythology. the adventure of a 12-year-old boy is crafted from select images of Gustave Dore. in fact, the boy it supposed to be Dore and is, therefore, a kind of explanation of the provoking and nightmarish images. great fodder for bedtime stories.

Campbell would admire the mythological landscape and hero's journey in any of Moers's books but this one represents a concise vision of a universal human adventure. the boy attempts to complete seemingly impossible tasks set before him by Death himself in order to regain his life after a would-be fatal sea voyage. i am reminded strongly of Terry Gillium's Adventures of Baron Munchhausen but Moers points to Don Quixote many times- certainly a similar soul.

the translation seems satisfying but the style conforms to that of a parable rather than a narrative- all fat has been cut from the prose so that what we have left is a pearl necklace of dark and witty fables.

wonderful, too, is being able to look at the Dore images throughout the book and know that this is *exactly* what the scene looks like because we know that the protagonist rendered them himself and that they inspired the author to write his tale from them rather than attempting to depict what he had envisioned. ( )