“Everything looks the same from up here,” he laments, scratching his head. But he’s just as hopelessly lost as Hilda and Twig. They happen upon a giant – or, rather, his foot – and exclaim that he must know where he’s going. At one point Hilda and her pet Twig, a blue fox with antlers, get lost in a “big, scary forest” after fleeing a troll. What sort of world must this be where hulking craggy-skinned trolls and sinewy sea spirits are commonplace?Īnd yet the books have a pleasingly irreverent streak, just as willing to poke fun as pay homage to the tropes of folklore and mythic narratives. The effect of Pearson’s unostentatious approach to storytelling imbues Hildafolk with tantalizing verisimilitude and inspired comedy. Later installments will illuminate this world’s hidden nooks and crannies, and flesh out its strange denizens, but in his first installment Pearson practices admirable restraint giants and trolls and wood men are simply facts of life in Hilda’s world, neither wholly unremarkable nor wholly disconcerting. Hilda inhabits a vaguely Nordic-inspired land populated by trolls and sea spirits and giants. This juxtaposition of homey charm and deadpan whimsy perfectly encapsulates the world of Hildafolk. But it’s okay because he brings them wood. The Wood Man, a diminutive creature with a globose head that hovers just slightly above his body, has a habit, we learn, of sneaking into Hilda and her mom’s house and lying about on the floor. She fancies herself an adventurer, and this is the type of thing adventurers do.Īnd then the Wood Man sneaks into the house. When she sees clouds gathering at the spire of a mountain, she asks her mom if she can sleep outside tonight. She’s about 10 or so, and she’s reading a book called Trolls and Other Dangerous Creatures. On the next page, we’re taken inside and meet Hilda. A wisp of white smoke from the chimney curls into a pale green sky. The first image is of a house, nestled among fields at the base of snow-capped mountains. Hildafolk immediately distinguishes itself on page one.

In my case, this book is actually five books: the all-ages series of graphic novels called Hildafolk by Luke Pearson.

But every once in a while – if you’re lucky – you’ll happen upon a book that engages your heart and your brain, that uplifts without resorting to manipulation, a book that seems to be for everyone and yet is also just for you. Some books we want to keep for ourselves they’re too weird or personal for us to press into the hands of friends, family and strangers. Not every good book elicits this reaction, though. Some books are so good you want to share them with the world.

Hilda folk