Adam Gidwitz has a specific kind of talent for making children—and their parents—deeply uncomfortable. If you picked up the In a Glass Grimmly book expecting a soft, Disney-fied retelling of classic fables, you likely slammed the cover shut in a mix of horror and fascination within the first twenty pages. It’s gritty. It’s wet. It’s often covered in a thin layer of grime and existential dread.
Honestly, it’s exactly what fairy tales used to be before we decided kids were too fragile for the truth.
This isn't just a sequel to A Tale Dark and Grimm. It is a standalone journey that weaves through the Cousins Grimm—Jack and Jill—as they flee a home where they aren't appreciated, only to find that the "outside world" is populated by giants, goblins, and a particularly horrifying mermaid. Gidwitz doesn’t talk down to his readers. He treats them like survivors.
The Brutal Reality of Jack and Jill
Most of us know the nursery rhyme. They go up a hill, they fetch water, Jack breaks his crown. Boring. In the In a Glass Grimmly book, Gidwitz strips away the sing-song melody and replaces it with a desperate need for validation. Jack is a boy who just wants to be admired, and Jill is a girl who wants to be seen as more than just a peripheral character in her own life.
They are flawed.
Jack is often vain. Jill is prickly. Their journey begins not because of a grand quest for glory, but because of a devastating moment of social humiliation at a party. It feels real. It feels like middle school, even if it's set in a kingdom of mist and monsters. When they set off to find a magic looking glass for a suspicious frog, they aren't heroes yet. They are just kids trying to find a place where they don't feel like failures.
The pacing of their development is erratic in the best way. Sometimes they learn a lesson and then immediately forget it because, well, that’s how humans work. Gidwitz uses a narrator who constantly breaks the fourth wall, warning the "small children" to go away if they can’t handle the gore. This meta-commentary isn't just a gimmick; it builds a bridge between the gruesome events of the plot and the reader's own sense of safety.
Why This Book Hits Different in 2026
We live in an era of sanitized content. Algorithms try to smooth out the edges of everything we consume. But the In a Glass Grimmly book thrives in the jagged edges. It taps into the "uncanny valley" of folklore. Take the mermaid scene, for example. In popular culture, mermaids are shimmering symbols of grace. In Gidwitz’s world? They are terrifying predators of the deep, more akin to the sirens of ancient myth who would just as soon eat you as look at you.
There is a specific scene involving a "Seeing Glass" and a goblin market that feels like a fever dream. It challenges the idea of perception versus reality. If you see yourself as a monster, do you become one? The book asks these questions without being preachy.
The Frog, the Cape, and the Salamander
You can't talk about this story without mentioning the Three-Legged Frog. He is the catalyst. He promises the children that the Looking Glass will give them everything they ever wanted: the love and respect of their families. But the frog is a liar. Or at least, he’s a creature with his own agenda.
Along the way, they meet a blue-skinned girl and a salamander that can survive fire. These aren't just "cool fantasy creatures." They represent the different ways people adapt to trauma. The blue girl has been literally marked by her environment. The salamander represents the resilience required to walk through the "fire" of growing up.
Deconstructing the Fairy Tale Tropes
Gidwitz pulls from Hans Christian Andersen and the Brothers Grimm, but he blends them into a singular, cohesive nightmare. He uses The Emperor's New Clothes not as a funny anecdote about a naked king, but as a biting critique of social pressure and the fear of being "less than."
The "Glass" in the title is multi-layered:
- It's the physical object they are searching for.
- It's the "Glass Hill" they have to climb (a nod to the traditional Jack and Jill).
- It's the metaphorical mirror held up to their own insecurities.
The violence in the In a Glass Grimmly book is frequent. Fingers are lost. Skin is burned. But it’s never gratuitous just for the sake of a jump scare. It serves to show that actions have consequences. In a world where most kids' media suggests that everything resets to normal at the end of the episode, Gidwitz insists that scars stay.
Dealing With the Narrative Voice
The narrator is a character in his own right. He’s snarky, protective, and occasionally a bit of a jerk. He’ll tell you to close the book. He’ll tell you that you’re brave for continuing. This creates a sense of "literary conspiracy" between the author and the reader. You are both in on the secret that the world is a dangerous place.
This style owes a lot to Lemony Snicket, but it’s more visceral. While Snicket is concerned with the absurdity of misfortune, Gidwitz is concerned with the anatomy of it. He wants you to feel the cold of the water and the sting of the salt.
The Moral Ambiguity of "Happy Endings"
By the time you reach the end of the In a Glass Grimmly book, the concept of a "happy ending" has been thoroughly dismantled. Jack and Jill do find a version of peace, but it isn't the one they set out for. They don't get the unconditional, easy praise of their peers. Instead, they get something much harder: self-respect.
They realize that the looking glass was a trap. Not just because of the magic involved, but because looking for external validation is a bottomless pit. You will never find enough "glory" to fill the hole left by a lack of self-worth.
Actionable Steps for Readers and Parents
If you are planning to dive into this book or introduce it to a younger reader, keep a few things in mind to get the most out of the experience:
Read the original tales first.
To truly appreciate how Gidwitz subverts the genre, spend an afternoon with the actual Grimm's Fairy Tales (the unexpurgated versions). Look for The Seven Ravens or The Juniper Tree. You’ll see the DNA of Gidwitz’s horror in those pages.
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Don't skip the footnotes or the narrator's asides.
It’s tempting to rush through to see if Jack and Jill survive the giants, but the narrator’s commentary provides the emotional context that makes the ending hit so hard.
Discuss the "Lies" of the Frog.
The frog represents the temptation to take the easy way out or to believe that a magical object can fix an internal problem. If you’re reading this with a child, ask them why they think the frog was so desperate for the glass. It opens up a much deeper conversation about greed and loneliness.
Embrace the discomfort.
The In a Glass Grimmly book is meant to make you squirm. If a certain chapter feels too intense, lean into that feeling. Why does it bother you? Usually, it's because the "monster" in the story is doing something that feels uncomfortably human.
The brilliance of Gidwitz's work is that he trusts his audience. He knows that children are aware of the darkness in the world. By giving them a map through that darkness—covered in blood and frog slime as it may be—he provides a much more valuable service than any "safe" story ever could. He shows that you can fall down the hill, break your crown, and still find the strength to stand back up.