Devout Hershel Brings Hanukkah Back to a Goblin-Tormented Town

Eric Kimmel is an author who has made a name for himself with several picture books rooted in Jewish traditions. In Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins, one of his most lauded books, he draws from folklore to craft the tale of a clever man who outwits the goblins who have kept the residents of a tiny village from celebrating Hanukkah.

Hershel of Ostropol is a cheerful wanderer whose wits have clearly served him well in his travels. When he learns of the plague of goblins infecting the synagogue upon the hill, he takes it upon himself to outsmart the lot of them, thus reclaiming the sacred holiday for the people down below in the town.

Some of the methods he uses feel very familiar. In particular, I recall a Mickey Mouse book called Mickey Meets the Giant, which appears to have been based on a pre-existing story, in which Mickey fools a giant into believing that he can wring water out of a rock. Something very similar happens in this book, with Hershel crushing a rock that is, in reality, an egg. Another trick, which involves tricking a goblin into gambling away all of his money, reminds me of the game that Captain Kirk makes up in an episode of Star Trek.

That said, this is certainly an original story, and it’s fun to contemplate how the devoutly Jewish Hershel might go about tricking his next nemesis. Kimmel actually skips over three of the days, which is rather a shame, since it’s so amusing to see Hershel outwit those goblins. However, this gives us more time to perceive how much more formidable a foe the Goblin King is. While Hershel always has the upper hand in his previous encounters, it’s obvious that this frightening specter is going to give him some trouble.

One neat thing about the book is the way Kimmel deftly drops references to elements of a traditional Hanukkah celebration. We see Hershel eat pickles and hard-boiled eggs and play the dreidel game with a goblin - though, as Kimmel helpfully points out in a note in the back, Hershel makes up rules that render it impossible for him to lose. Through it all, the golden menorah rests on a small wooden table, and Hershel finds a way to light the candles each night, with the final night the most miraculous feat of all.

This is a Caldecott Honor Book, and it’s easy to see why, as Trina Schart Hyman’s wonderfully detailed illustrations truly bring the characters to life. Her artistic style is realistic, particularly when it comes to depicting humble, hairy Hershel, who nearly always has a twinkle in his eye. The goblins, meanwhile, are marvelously creative, from the tiny purple winged creature who harasses Hershel on the first night to the terrifying, wraith-like final visitor. The paintings are dark, with the blackness of the aged building only pierced by the illumination of a few candles, which emphasizes their importance.

There’s a fair bit of text in Hershel and the Hanukkah Goblins, so it probably would be best suited to children of at least seven or eight, though it could work as a read-aloud for younger kids. While the story might be especially appreciated by Jewish children, Kimmel’s explanations in the back of the book make this clever story accessible to those from all backgrounds.

Sendak's Freaky Tale of Goblin Abductions is Really Out There

In Jim Henson's Labyrinth, spirited young heroine Sarah has a copy of Maurice Sendak's Where the Wild Things Are in her room. I can't help but wonder whether Henson ever read Outside Over There, another story by Sendak involving young children and strange creatures. In this Caldecott Honor book, Ida, a girl who is a few years younger than Sarah, similarly loses her baby sibling to goblin abduction and must retrieve her. Curiously, Sendak's goblins look just like babies; I'm not sure if this is how they always look or if it's just a momentary disguise to confuse Ida. In any case, the basic plot is similar, though the two stories unfold very differently.

Outside Over There isn't a very long book, and there's only a sentence or two of text per page. Our focus is supposed to be on the paintings that take up most of the space. These are artful and pretty realistic, though there is a strangeness to them I can't quite pin down. Sendak's done some pretty trippy stuff before - In the Night Kitchen is especially bizarre - so it's no great surprise to find another of his books to be exceptionally odd.

The illustration in which the yowling baby is carried away by goblins while Ida idly plays her horn beside a freakish-looking faux infant made of ice is chilling, as is the one in which Ida floats over the city, yellow cloak flapping wildly, as the goblins, concealed in their wraith-like robes, stand guard over her sister. Ida always has a melancholy look about her, which is appropriate for a girl whose father is away at sea and whose sister has been taken, but it makes her a little harder to embrace. The colors used throughout the book are deep and dark, the landscape and clothing richly textured. I can understand why the artwork was recognized; I just don't care for it all that much.

I'm also not crazy about the writing style, which is clipped and seems to be trying to achieve a particular dialect, though I can't say what that would be. Words that seem like they should be adverbs become adjectives, as in "they quick churned," or adjectives that should be integrated more naturally into the sentence show up after the noun, as in "Ida mad" and "Ida sly".

Outside Over There is an odd and unsettling little book, and it's not nearly as creative and action-packed as Labyrinth, so I'd recommend the latter if you're in the mood for goblins and stick with the wild things if you've got a hankering for Sendak.