Betsy's Reviews > The House with Nobody in It

Often value is placed on those things that people have previously forgotten about and disregarded for years. Comic books only became valuable when it became clear how many were thrown out of parents’ basements. A first edition copy of a book that had a limited print run at the start is worth more than a title whose worth was evident from day one. Children’s books, traditionally, are discounted in a similar manner. The word “juvenile” is synonymous, in some brains, with the infantile, childish, and unworthy. I well recall a children’s author once telling me how a friend was shocked that he wouldn’t consider writing for adults. “You’re like a gourmet chef making baby food!” Never mind that that’s how babies stay alive. Board books, of course, are the earliest forms of literature of all. For an egregious amount of time people believed that there was no value in reading to a baby. They can’t even see properly for the first few months, for crying out loud! Even today, there are parents that hold off on reading to their children until those kids can speak whole sentences (as backwards a method of education as ever you might conceive). Even amongst children’s authors and illustrators it is not particularly common to expect them to make a board book in their career. Sendak never did it, nor did Seuss (though, in the latter case, his works have been turned into board books since). Occasionally a contemporary creator will give it a go, but unless you’re Sandra Boyton it isn’t really seen as a place on which to rest a career. So I suppose it was only a matter of time before it became appealing as a challenge. Hervé Tullet started playing with the form, creating books that are meant for flashlights and small poky fingers. Seymour Chwast, near the end of his career, came up with the nose shaped Nosy, as inventive as it is playful. But Jon Klassen? He’s not doing quite the same thing. Having gotten a running start already with the “Your” board book series (Your Island, Your Farm, Your Truck, etc.) he’s decided to flex his muscles a little and go in a slightly different direction. Somewhere odd and interesting and ultimately a new direction for the board book genre. And it’s about bloody time too.

The house shaped board book states quite clearly what’s going on in its title. Open it and you are outside the house. The text is straightforward. “There is nobody in this house. There used to be somebody. But there is nobody now. Let’s go look inside.” With a turn of each page you go through a room, usually with one object inside. Through the doorways, you can spot what’s coming up. It’s all very straightforward until you get to the third room. “There is a small stool on the floor in this room. And a lamp.” Next to the doorway stands a ghost, silent and staring. “Let’s go into the next room,” reads the text. Now as you go on, the ghost is always peeking out from where it stood. The narrator continues, oblivious, until you’re outside. It repeats what it said at the start. “But there is nobody now,” it concludes. End of tale.

This is one of those cases where you read a children’s book, put it down, then stare into space for a little while, trying to figure out how to categorize it, classify it, and order it in your brain. I’m a children’s librarian by training. I read a book like this and I need to know how best to sell it to someone. Who is the intended audience, what is the intended use, and how does that jive with how the publisher sees it? Out of curiosity, I read the press materials for this book. What does Candlewick Press think that they have on their hands here? Generally speaking… yeah, they’re not quite sure. They’re trying to say that it’s like a good book for younger siblings of kids who are into Klassen's The Skull (an adapted Tyrolean folktale of infinite charm). I mean… sure. But that seems like a kind of limited way of looking at it. For all that I adored The Skull I’m not sure it’s a household name quite yet. Extra points to the person writing the ad copy, though, for saying that this book contains, “die cuts to introduce mystery and precarity…” LOVE the use of the word “precarity” there. Then they consider it a possible Halloween book, which is probably a good bet and not a bad way to go. I can’t blame them for taking this tactic anyway, since I think this book’s use is a bit too difficult to describe in an elevator pitch.

Essentially, I see this book as having two distinct uses. In the first case, it’s going to be a perfect preschool readaloud. The person doing the reading will reinforce the text that says that there’s nobody there, causing the small children in the audience to scream and yell that they’re wrong. There’s a ghost! It’s right there! 100 points to anyone reading the book who acts like they don’t know what the kids are talking about. That’ll drive them bonkers. Now the second use of the book is a little more personal. I can well imagine someone with a child on their lap reading it, and some children being highly disturbed by the concept of “nobody”. This is precisely the kind of book that will both disturb and fascinate them. They’ll be scared of it… then secretly crawl over to pull it from the shelf to read and reread precisely because it does unnerve them. It’ll work its way into the fissures and cracks of their gray matter, affecting their reading preferences for, potentially, their entire life. No average board book can do that. For that to happen, you need something a little weird, and particularly special. You need a book like this.

I’ve a disparaging term I like to use when I talk about board books that aren’t really meant for children: Coffee Table Board Books. You know the kind. The books that address adult topics in a board book form, for the sole purpose of making the parents of the kids look cool. Surprisingly (to me anyway) that description does not fit The House With Nobody In It. Not a jot. Not a smidgen. And it all comes down to its language. I often get a bit peeved when I encounter children’s book creators that are masterful at both writing and art. Seems unfair to the rest of us over here. Kadir Nelson falls into that category, and so does Jon Klassen, only Klassen seems to have mastered simplicity, which is a skill even most children’s book writers have failed to acquire. The book opens with “There is nobody in this house. There used to be somebody. But there is nobody now. Let’s go look inside.” That tone. How do you acquire a tone like that? And shoot, I’m just gonna say it, but please also note the font. Nobody talks about font choice in children’s books, but when you have a title like this one it can mean the world. Apparently it’s Helvetica LT Pro and I can guaran-damn-tee you that Klassen had a hand in that choice. There’s something that happens when the wordplay and the look of the wordplay combine that actually can affect how you read a book out loud. Your cadences cool. Your voice takes on a plummy quality. It’s as though the calm of the book seeps into your eyeballs and out your larynx, and, so help me, I don’t know how the man does it.

Now let’s talk about color. The house in question is a deep umber red, a color that miraculously does not come across the average reader as “barn”. The red is just a little too brown for that. The doorway and window with the ghost are black, which strikes one as a little spooky. Indeed, even the title page and publication page are pure black. Yet when you turn the page suddenly we’re outside the house again and it’s sunny. Sure, the sun appears to be setting, and the rooms in the home are cast with that end-of-day yellow and blue, but it’s still relatively chipper. As you turn the pages and walk through the home, however, not only are you moving farther and farther away from that sun, but the rooms themselves are darkening as the day closes. Ignore the clock that seems to indicate that it’s 12:55 (one can assume that the clock is busted in a house with “nobody” in it). A co-worker and I took note of the fact that the ghost appears in the first darker room (a deep forest green), and that the next rooms grow only a little bit darker and a little bit darker after that. Klassen isn’t overplaying his hand, and he’s being extremely careful with his color choices. The fact that the only objects in the last room are boots (where everything else was furniture) lends just the slightest increase to the creepy factor of it all. By the time you get outside the sun has set and a moon has risen. You get those final lines, “There is nobody in this house. There used to be somebody. But there is nobody now.” And it’s absolutely pitch perfect.

The board book was never originally designed to do much more than be a potentially munchable form of introducing kids to literature and books early on. Over the years its form has been tweaked and perfected. Flaps are now less likely to get tugged out. There are tactile elements, parts that spin, even mirrors sometimes. As children age, even if they’re still rough-handed preschoolers, they sometimes feel that they’ve graduated beyond board books. Yet, as any preschool teacher will attest, board books remain the number one way of providing small children with books that will last more than one or two reads. Jon Klassen’s interest in the form is, perhaps, the start of something new. Following The House With Nobody In It, he has the potential to inspire other creators and other publishers to explore and play with the form in more creative ways. If they do, though, they’re going to need to understand why exactly this book works. It isn’t because it’s cool (it is) or trendy looking (it is). It’s because it’s cool and trendy AND actually interesting to kids. This book respects very young readers. It respects their capacity to tell a story beyond the one in their hands. The House With Nobody In It is a jumping off point for small brains and imaginations. And because of the level of care and attention that Klassen has poured into this book, THAT, if anything, is why it’s going to succeed. The rare board book that threads the needle between what kids like and what adults like. In other words, this book lives in the sweet spot. Now pick it up and go see why.