A review by imogenrobinson__
Coraline by Neil Gaiman

adventurous dark inspiring medium-paced

5.0

Fairy tales are more than true: not because they tell us that dragons exist, but because they tell us that dragons can be beaten. - G.K. Chesterton 

I have always adored the film Coraline. I remember the first time I saw it: my Dad, a big movie buff, plonked me down in his study one evening, saying he’d heard good things from critics about a new kids’ film. I watched it on his computer monitor alone, in the dark, and really enjoyed the story. I also found it terrifying. 

When you're little and you have nightmares or you are scared of the dark, you want to go to your parents for comfort. After seeing this film, I felt paralysed with fear in bed; I was too frightened to go through to my parents' room, in case I found that their eyes had been replaced with buttons. 

I first read the book as a teenager and was in awe of Gaiman's writing style. There is so much to be learnt from how he writes. He is, in my opinion, an expert at his craft. 

Coraline has no siblings to play with and the weather keeps her trapped inside the house her family has just moved to. Her parents are busy, stressed, and overworked. They refer to Coraline as a pest, routinely ignore her, treat her with sarcasm/slight impatience, and remind her not to make a mess. 

Her new neighbours call her 'Caroline' and she is painfully bored without any friends to keep her company. She discovers a tiny door in the drawing room that is "only for best" and filled with her grandmother's uncomfortable furniture. She gets her mother to unlock the door with a key, but it opens to a wall of bricks. Later, she opens the door again and it opens to a portal. This portal leads to another world where everything is better and less boring. She meets her other mother and other father. Everyone has buttons for eyes and they give her the attention she craves.

About a year ago, I read up on how the text can be interpreted as an allegory for emotional abuse, child neglect, and narcissism (often referred to as the second-hand smoke of mental health). I think the creators of the film and Gaiman himself must have opened the story up to this interpretation, based on the epigraph and on what Gaiman has said about the book: 

Being brave means you are scared, really scared, and you do the right thing anyway.

So now, ten years later, I've started running into women who tell me that Coraline got them through hard times in their lives. That when they were scared they thought of Coraline, and they did the right thing anyway. 

And that, more than anything, makes it all worthwhile.

The other world could easily be read as Coraline maladaptive daydreaming or dissociating, as she is shown to have an active, fertile imagination. Change is difficult for any child to handle and this could be read as Coraline's way of coping and processing things. The film is brilliant for this; all of the terrifying, traumatic things in the other world have some link to the real world - the bug furniture is like the bugs she smooshes in the shower at the start and she could be spooked by the button eyes of the doll Wyborne gives her. All of the gothic aspects of the film could be how Coraline, a child, construes her world, in daydreams/actual dreams. 

That is kind of the metaphor at the heart of Coraline. She feels neglected by her family and so she dissolves into a world where she is the center of her "Other" parents' world. Children do disappear into their own worlds because their brain is protecting them from the violence that surrounds them; it doesn't go away. [1]

The other mother wishes to remove Coraline's eyes so that she will stay in the other world forever. The shoe fits perfectly here; victims of abuse are often blinded by love for their abuser. Here, the other mother wishes to literally blind Coraline, so that she cannot see things with her own eyes anymore.

She expects Coraline to fall for her traps. Narcissists prey on vulnerable, empathic people. They observe what is absent in their lives and offer it up on a silver platter, but they always expect something out of their victims; they want total possession of the other person, thinking themselves entitled to it. Their true colours always come to light however, and they cannot handle it when their victims do not relinquish full control of their lives. The other mother cannot stand Coraline making a decision that isn't mutual, and weaponises the kind, 'loving' things she does for her. 

“There, my sweet Coraline,” said her other mother. “I came and fetched you out of the cupboard. You needed to be taught a lesson, but we temper our justice with mercy here; we love the sinner and we hate the sin. Now, if you will be a good child who loves her mother, be compliant and fair-spoken, you and I shall understand each other perfectly and we shall love each other perfectly as well.” 

Nothing is ever enough for a person with narcissistic personality disorder; the other mother eats up children's lives until they are ghosts. She feeds on them and keeps them trapped in her world as children forever - they never age and they even forget their names (a very chilling detail, demonstrating Gaiman's mastery of horror and suspense):

'She will take your life and all you are and all you cares for, and she will leave you with nothing but mist and fog. She'll take your joy. And one day you'll awake and your heart and your soul will have gone. A husk you'll be, a wisp you'll be, and a thing no more than a dream on waking, or a memory of something forgotten.' 

'Hollow,' whispered the third voice. 'Hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow, hollow.'

I like how far you can go into analysing the film and the book in this way. One of the most important messages could be that a victim often need the help of those around them to escape an abusive relationship. Whilst Coraline is an extremely brave protagonist, she needs to lean on external parties like the cat (and Wyborne in the film) for help and support. For instance, her neighbours give her a 'seeing stone' which allows her to see the other world for what it really is: a lie. 

She said, “You know that I love you.” And, despite herself, Coraline nodded. It was true: the other mother loved her. But she loved Coraline as a miser loves money, or a dragon loves its gold. In the other mother’s button eyes, Coraline knew that she was a possession, nothing more. A tolerated pet, whose behaviour was no longer amusing. 

The other father is an interesting character too as he could be viewed as a co-dependent figure. He is too cowardly to fight back, but he does truly care for Coraline. He is quite literally made to be a monster:

'Poor thing,' she said. 'I bet she made you come down here as a punishment for telling me too much.'

The thing hesitated, then it nodded. Coraline wondered how she could ever have imagined that this grub-like thing resembled her father. [...]

'Poor thing,' she said. 'You're just a thing she made and then threw away.'

The thing nodded vigorously; as it nodded, the left button-eye fell off and clattered on to the concrete floor. The thing looked around vacantly with its one eye, as if it had lost her. 

Narcissists tend to be very calculating, well-read, and clever. This is true of the other mother. She plays mind games with Coraline, making her doubt and question herself until she struggles to know what is real and what is not:

'Whatever would I have done with your old parents? If they have left you, Coraline, it must be because they became bored with you, or tired. Now, I will never become bored with you, and I will never abandon you. You will always be safe here with me.'

In spite of this, Coraline manages to overcome all of the challenges the other mother puts her through. She escapes and throws the key to the door down the local well. 

I think that nowadays, we have to be careful as there's so much pop psychology shared online - similar to mental health awareness, it's easy to label things in a sort of tick-box exercise after consuming lots of short-form content on a particular subject matter. We live in a world of buzzword bingo - 'gaslight', 'coercion', 'manipulation'... all these words are thrown around regularly. Social media has made this kind of language widely accessible, which is a good thing - but I do think we have to be careful. 

Things can get confusing and complicated: we've seen this recently with Jonah Hill, a successful Hollywood star who everyone praises for his down-to-earth nature and weight-loss journey. His ex-girlfriend shared screenshots of their conversations where he is using ‘therapy speak’ to cover up his controlling behaviour. This is referred to as DARVO, where a narcissist reverses the victim and offender roles to avoid taking responsibility for their actions. 

 
Someone may behave like a narcissist now and then; their actions may fit into that category and their behaviours may follow a certain pattern. That doesn't necessarily mean they are one and that you can give them that diagnosis. Everyone in life experiences adversity and nobody is perfect. This particularly applies to parents; there is no such thing as a perfect parent. In Coraline, the parents may be neglectful but they don't want Coraline to cut her knee, or go without her multivitamin. They remind her to dress up warmly and suggest various ways Coraline can keep herself entertained when she complains of being bored. They care for her well-being.

It can be easy to brand someone as a narcissist but situations are rarely black and white; relationships are nuanced. But sometimes, things are more black than white, and you have to come to a decision, like Coraline. That is why I personally find this such a powerful story. 

When it comes to narcissistic and/or abusive people, often the best option is to lock the door to that relationship for good and throw away the key. Sometimes down a deep, deep well.

[1] http://www.healthyenvironmenthealthychildren.com/opinions/the-other-world-childhood-and-resilience