OLIVER JEFFERS
There are ghosts in this house
Transl.: Philippos Mandilaras
ed.. Ikaros, 2022, p. 44

I don’t know if Kasper meant the award-winning, best-selling Oliver Jeffers, the kind ghost; I vaguely but fondly remember him from a black-and-white animated series of past decades. And Casper has been around as an American comic, cartoon, television series, and film since the early 20th century, and the long Anglo-Saxon tradition of ghost stories, culminating every year around Halloween, is holding up well.

The find lies in the continuous alternation of transparent pages (such as tissue paper) with minimalistic ghost images printed on them.

Halloween has its honorary season, October 31st. It has not even been translated, and this, of course, is a sign of the times: young and old are now slowly “celebrating” it in Greece, naturally using the English word. Be that as it may, the Greek release of “This House is haunted” gives us a good taste of the Anglo-Saxon culture of reconciliation not so much with death as with the supernatural, the invisible, the mysterious, the incomprehensible. , and p.x. Mexican culture is dominated by the idea of ​​the return of the dead and our reconciliation with them, respectively.

In Ireland and Scotland — Jeffers, who was born in 1977, is of Northern Irish descent — the tradition of elves, ghosts, magical creatures remains rich and vibrant. The pop figure of a white sheet with black holes instead of eyes wanders quite languidly through our pedestrian world.

Jeffers has outdone himself here as both a writer and an illustrator, with a simple yet ingenious invention. As noted in the English-language review, the narrative breaks the so-called “fourth wall”, that is, from the very first page, makes the reader, young or old, a partner in the film. The door of a stately home, probably of Georgian architecture, opens and, like a museum, invites us to walk through the rooms, attics, corridors after – do we have the right to just say “girl?” – which constantly refers to us.

Can’t we see its greenish color? Her over-emphasized round white eyeballs? The little tour guide already has something strange about her. The first trembling passes through us pleasantly. The find, however, is the constant alternation of transparent pages (a type of tissue paper) printed on them with minimalistic images of one or more small white ghosts. When we turn the transparent page, and it closes the previous one, we suddenly see an ominous ghostly form, erased in some detail of the space depicted there. This is the moment when the child will probably scream “ah!” enthusiastically pointing out what has so far eluded our attention: nato, nato little ghost! A cunning green-haired tour guide plays an old game that fascinates young children: she pretends not to see. “I heard that there are ghosts in this house,” he says, “but I didn’t find them.”

Small hands are already outstretched, voices are heard trying to speak to her, to show her what we and children see through tissue paper, that is, “ordinary” images enriched with a mysterious fog and one or more ghosts. “There, there, on the stairs!” I hear a child’s squeal. “Maybe it’s my imagination,” the protagonist says coolly.

Here and there, serious museological signatures wink at adults: “The complete absence of carvings and decorative elements in this fireplace radiates grandeur, although the severity of its lines suggests other, less imposing premises.” But the child is already in a hurry to turn the transparent page, and together with him, excited and at the same time amused, while he is gone, we will enjoy three, or maybe four? – little ghosts that occupied the fireplace. This is an interactive book in every sense, with lots of wit and humor. As with all of Jeffers’ work, something simple touches us and at the same time touches us, and aesthetic pleasure and playfulness are pushed to the maximum.