| This set features a signed hardcover edition of Neil Gaiman's The Graveyard Book and The Graveyard Book Frangrance Set in exclusive CBLDF only bundle. For more informationabout the book and fragrance set see below.
*Only the book is signed
About the Fragrance Set:
Assortment of 3 fragrances based on Neil Gaiman's newest novel, The Graveyard Book. This set includes:
BANANA PEEL IN A GRAVEYARD
"We can put the food here," said Silas. "It's cool, and the food will keep longer." He reached into the box, pulled out a banana.
"And what would that be when it was at home?" asked Mrs Owens, eyeing the yellow and brown object suspiciously.
"It's a banana. A fruit, from the tropics. I believe you peel off the outer covering," said Silas, "Like so."
The child - Nobody - wriggled in Mrs Owens arms, and she let it down to the flagstones. It toddled rapidly to Silas, grasped his trouser-leg and held on.
Silas passed it the banana.
Mrs Owens watched the boy eat. "Ba-na-na," she said, dubiously. "Never heard of them. Never. What's it taste like?"
"I've absolutely no idea," said Silas, who consumed only one food, and it was not bananas. "You could make up a bed in here for the boy, you know."
A banana peel discarded among tombstones and crypts.
EAU DE GHOUL
They all started telling stories, then, of how fine and wonderful a thing it was to be a ghoul, of all the things they had crunched up and swallowed down with their powerful teeth. Impervious they were to disease or illness, said one of them. Why, it didn't matter what their dinner had died of, they could just chomp it down. They told of the places they had been, which mostly seemed to be catacombs and plague-pits ("Plague Pits is good eatin'," said the Emperor of China, and everyone agreed.) They told Bod how they had got their names and how he, in his turn, once he had become a nameless ghoul, would be named, as they had been.
"But I don't want to become one of you," said Bod.
"One way or another," said the Bishop of Bath and Wells, cheerily, "you'll become one of us. The other way is messier, involves being digested, and you're not really around very long to enjoy it."
"But that's not a good thing to talk about," said the Emperor of China."Best to be a Ghoul. We're afraid of nuffink!"
And all the ghouls around the coffin-wood fire howled at this statement, and growled and sang and exclaimed at how wise they were, and how mighty, and how fine it was to be scared of nothing.
Dessicated skin coated in blackened ginger, cinnamon, and mold-flecked dirt, with cumin, bitter clove, leather, and dried blood.
GHÛLHEIM
Ghouls do not build. They are parasites and scavengers, eaters of carrion. The city they call Ghûlheim is something they found, long ago, but did not make. No one they call knows (if anyone human ever knew) what kind of creatures it was that made those buildings, who honeycombed the rock with tunnels and towers, but it is certain that no-one but the ghoul-folk could have wanted to stay there, or even to approach that place.
Even from the path below Ghûlheim, even from miles away, Bod could see that all of the angles were wrong -- that the walls sloped crazily, that it was every nightmare he had ever endured made into a place, like a huge mouth of jutting teeth. It was a city that had been built just to be abandoned, in which all the fears and madnesses and revulsions of the creatures who built it were made into stone. The ghoul folk had found it and delighted in it and called it home.
A dark and disjointed scent: smoke and black musk, bladderwrack, opopponax, galangal, and pepper.
About the Graveyard Book:
Nobody Leaves.
Hear this tragic tale: a sleeping family, a talented murderer, and an adventurous toddler — orphaned, but not assassinated. Small and alone, by accident and luck he escapes the scene of the crime and climbs a grassy hill to safety. At the top of the hill the boy finds a fence, and on the other side, a dark, quiet place.
And what is to become of him?
Nobody Stays.
The boy is welcomed on the hill where the dead do not sleep, and the graveyard residents rally to protect him. For outside the fence that separates a city from its ghosts, a dastardly killer is patient and persistent. The danger is real, and it is alive. It is hunting, and wise, and evil. A little child must not be left to the merciless knife of a professional fiend.
But who will watch over him?
Nobody’s Home.
The chattering dead make a pact. A decision is made, and shelter is granted to the tiny fellow, who has no inkling of his peril. He has no parents, no place, and no name. But the kind-hearted spirits will not let him freeze, or starve, or meet his end by a murderer’s blade. They wrap the breathing boy in a shroud. They call him Nobody, for he looks like nobody but himself.
Mr. and Mrs. Owens, a Partnership. Married for 250 years yet childless all this time, they adopt the yellow-haired boy as their own and love him accordingly. They bring him into their lovely little tomb by the daffodil patch, and there they raise him to be clever and careful. They raise him to be wary of the living.
Silas, a Caretaker. The graveyard’s caretaker serves as Nobody’s guardian until he might guard himself, for the insubstantial dead must stay with their bones — and they have no means to nourish a living child. Teacher, counselor, and vigilant champion, Silas is not alive, but he is not dead. And unlike the ghosts, he may move among the living in order to acquire food, medicine, and other necessities.
Miss Lupescu, a Teacher. Foreign and strange, and a terrible cook, Miss Lupescu serves as substitute guardian and general tutor when Silas is called away. She may seem cold and somewhat uncaring, but she is a formidable woman and she has vowed to watch over Nobody, whether he wants her to or not.
Liza Hempstock, a Witch. She might be dead, but she still has her magic. Buried in the potter’s field outside the confines of the blessed graveyard property, she wishes for a headstone to mark her resting place and she wishes for a friend. One part trickster and one part helping hand, Liza is fickle but mostly fair … and honestly fond of the living boy from the next patch over.
Scarlett Amber Perkins, a Girl. The cemetery’s dead children make good playmates, but sometimes a living boy might wish for a bit of living company. Scarlett Amber Perkins roams the park beside the cemetery; her mother thinks that her daughter has found an imaginary friend. But as the little girl grows up, Nobody becomes harder and harder to explain away.
Nobody’s Safe, Not Living or Dead
The graveyard is a sacred place and well tended by its various attendants. It is quiet and homey, and there are worse places by far where a boy might grow up. But that is not to say that Nobody’s life is altogether simple or secure. Here and there lurk dangers unexpected and perils uncharted by the living. Though Nobody’s teachers instruct him in the ways of magic and caution, there are some threats a boy must face alone — and some lessons he must learn for himself.
The Ghouls. With their silly titles and preposterous claims to fame, the ghouls are violent, strong, and perfectly daft. Their gate is a dangerous, tempting place; and Nobody knows how to find it. He even knows how to open it.
The Sleer. At the bottom of a very dark barrow, beneath a hill, in a pit lost to history and myth, an ancient creature called the Sleer waits for its master to return. It hunkers deep below the earth with three objects of uncertain value and power—which it guards with threats and malice.
Every Man Jack. The less that is said of Jack, the better. His nature is an elaborate puzzle — a series of painful questions with answers that slit throats and break bones. What fiend would murder a family while it slept? What monstrous brute would seek to slaughter a toddling child in its crib? This Jack has his reasons, and those reasons reek of evil and rot. He’ll spare no trouble and show no mercy in his quest to end the boy called Nobody Owens. |
