"The most charming spider you'll ever dine with!"—Henry Selick director of The Nightmare Before Christmas and James and the Giant Peach
"A gleefully sinister fable that spins its tale like a great old silent film. The kind one might only see in a haunted nickelodeon. I love the beautiful, dramatic, black-and-white illustrations."—Lane Smith illustrator of The True Story of the 3 Little Pigs and The Stinky Cheese Man and Other Fairly Stupid Tales
The Barnes & Noble Review
A recipient of a 2003 Caldecott Honor, this shimmering black-and-white masterpiece retells Mary Howitt's "cautionary tale" in a 1920s silent-film style, coupled with Tony DiTerlizzi's wry twist. As the author's familiar rhyme ominously hovers overhead, an innocent Fly -- garbed in a flapper dress, with flowered parasol -- becomes charmed by a fiendishly dapper Spider, ultimately meeting her maker with a spin of his web. As if DiTerlizzi had fashioned an old-time thriller on paper, the book charms with its silvery "sets" and striking characters, from the title page glowing with the eerie "movie opener" to shadowy scenes that subtly reveal the Spider's true motives (such as a "Joy of Cooking Bugs" book on his side table and two ghostly flies who try to warn potential victims). With each page capturing Nosferatu-like chills that will have readers amazed and enthralled, this illustrator's rendition of The Spider and the Fly is a tale to be heeded for its moral and admired for its genius. Matt Warner
Howitt's 1829 cautionary poem of a fly's risky entanglement with her perfidious predator springs to cinematic life amid silver-sheened black-and-white illustrations by an artist well known for his work on the Magic: The Gathering trading cards. Gouache images that seem to glow in the dark deftly recall the silent film era, craftily luring in readers even before the tale's famous opener, " `Will you walk into my parlor?' said the Spider to the Fly." An exterior view of a darkened mansion, its sole light coming from an attic window, gives way to a close-up of the same window as a petite dragonfly in flapper attire (complete with fringed dress, long gloves and flower-petal parasol) peers inside at Spider's lair: a Victorian dollhouse set amid cobwebby attic treasures. With an arsenal of Vincent Price expressions, the well-heeled Spider uses food and flattery to entice his guest into staying within his walls. Some of the text appears periodically against a framed black backdrop, la silent movie captions, while a silvery web is progressively woven in the background. Finely detailed scenes foreshadow Fly's demise with subtle, Charles Addams-esque humor that, while it may escape younger readers, will tickle the Lemony Snicket set. (In one scene, previous insect victims, now ghosts with their feet hovering above the floor, hold up a copy of The Joy of Cooking Bugs, in a vain warning to Fly.) DiTerlizzi has spun a visual treat that young sophisticates and adults alike will enjoy. Copyright 2002 Cahners Business Information.
This illustrated version of the old poem clearly states the ``beware of strangers'' message. The rather lengthy poem describes the many ways in which the spider attempts to woo the fly into his web. The feminine fly repeatedly refuses the spider's flattery, but finally succumbs and meets her fate. The message of the poem is pointedly clear. Yet this book also offers an addendum, which parodies the main poem and presents a modern day example of why it is best not to trust strangers; it is moralistic, didactic, and unnecessary. The illustrations, too, leave much to be desired. The anthropomorphic drawings of spider and fly are unattractive and may be frightening to some children. As for the ``stranger danger'' message, the poem itself, sans these illustrations and addendum, would be a good supplement to books such as Dorothy Chlad's Strangers (Childrens, 1982) or Stan and Jan Berenstein's The Berenstein Bears Learn About Strangers (Random, 1985), each of which provides practical information about strangers and how to deal with them. Jennifer Smith, Northern Kentuky University, Highland Heights
"'Will you walk into my parlor?'/said the Spider to the Fly." Howitt's 1829 cautionary poem is realized here in full cinematic fashion. Delightfully ghoulish full-bleed black-and-white spreads are rendered in gouache and pencil, and reproduced in silver-and-black duotone, resulting in
images that recall the slightly fuzzy-edged figures from old black-and-white horror movies. The typeface and occasional framed text pages heighten this effect by evoking silent-movie titles. The setting is a dustily gothic attic in which DiTerlizzi's (Alien and Possum: Friends No Matter What, ) "camera" never rests, zooming in, out, up, and down in a dazzling series of perspectives as a top-hatted and bespatted spider romances a naïve flapper fly. Her protestations in the face of his overtures grow ever weaker, and despite the warnings of the ghostly figures of past victims (one
brandishes a knife and fork while another points urgently at The Joy of Cooking Bugs), she goes to her inevitable doom. The illustrations embrace the primness of the poem -- the wide-eyed fly is the very picture of a bygone innocence -- but introduce a wealth of detail that adds a thick layer of humor. Aside from the aforementioned ghosts, evidence of the spider's predilections abounds: in his parlor, he relaxes with his feet up on a very dead ladybug stool with X's for eyes. A tongue-in-cheek "letter" from the spider follows the poem, in which he exhorts readers to "be advised that spiders are not
the only hunters and bugs are not the only victims." This cautionary intrusion serves to explicate the metaphor for concretely minded readers, but the message is not likely to diminish their pleasure in the grisly
doings one bit. Copyright Kirkus 2002 Kirkus/BPI Communications.All rights reserved
" 'Will you walk into my parlor?' / said the Spider to the Fly." Howitt's 1829 cautionary poem is realized here in full cinematic fashion. Delightfully ghoulish full-bleed black-and-white spreads are rendered in gouache and pencil, and reproduced in silver-and-black duotone, resulting in images that recall the slightly fuzzy-edged figures from old black-and-white horror movies. The typeface and occasional framed text pages heighten this effect by evoking silent-movie titles. The setting is a dustily gothic attic in which DiTerlizzi's (Alien and Possum: Friends No Matter What, p. 494, etc.) "camera" never rests, zooming in, out, up, and down in a dazzling series of perspectives as a top-hatted and bespatted spider romances a naïve flapper fly. Her protestations in the face of his overtures grow ever weaker, and despite the warnings of the ghostly figures of past victims (one brandishes a knife and fork while another points urgently at The Joy of Cooking Bugs), she goes to her inevitable doom. The illustrations embrace the primness of the poem-the wide-eyed fly is the very picture of a bygone innocence-but introduce a wealth of detail that adds a thick layer of humor. Aside from the aforementioned ghosts, evidence of the spider's predilections abounds: in his parlor, he relaxes with his feet up on a very dead ladybug stool with X's for eyes. A tongue-in-cheek "letter" from the spider follows the poem, in which he exhorts readers to "be advised that spiders are not the only hunters and bugs are not the only victims." This cautionary intrusion serves to explicate the metaphor for concretely minded readers, but the message is not likely to diminish their pleasure in the grisly doings one bit.
