Coraline’s Mother/Mrs. Jones Quotes in Coraline
Chapter 8 Quotes
[The other mother] picked Coraline up, just as Coraline’s real mother had when Coraline was much younger, cradling the half-sleeping child as if she were a baby.
The other mother carried Coraline into the kitchen and put her down very gently upon the countertop.
Coraline struggled to wake herself up, conscious only for the moment of having been cuddled and loved, and wanting more of it, then realizing where she was and who she was with.
In this passage, the other mother retrieves Coraline from the cupboard behind the mirror after sending her there to teach her about manners and respect. As the other mother carries Coraline into the kitchen, Coraline is, in her drowsy, dreamy state, reminded of the love, care, and affection her real mother used to show her. Coraline feels betrayed by her own body and her own memories once the other mother sets her down—she longs for the other mother to hold her some more and show her more of that affection, even as she knows that any displays of warmth or love the other mother makes are false, deceitful, and even dangerous. Coraline is learning to differentiate between fake and real ideas of the comforts of home, and between the imperfect but genuine parental love and its perfected—but inherently dishonest—facsimile. This passage also has a dark undertone as it suggests that Coraline is not invincible to the other mother’s tricks—and shows that the longer Coraline is away from her parents and trapped in the other mother’s world, the more susceptible she’ll be to falling for them.
“I think I like this game. But what kind of game shall it be? A riddle game? A test of knowledge or of skill?”
“An exploring game,” suggested Coraline. “A finding-things game.”
“And what is it you think you should be finding in this hide-and-go-seek game, Coraline Jones?”
Coraline hesitated. Then, “My parents,” said Coraline. “And the souls of the children behind the mirror.”
Chapter 11 Quotes
“Help me, please,” she said. “All of you.”
The other people in the corridor—three children, two adults—were somehow too insubstantial to touch the door. But their hands closed about hers, as she pulled on the big iron door handle, and suddenly she felt strong.
“Never let up, Miss! Hold strong! Hold strong!” whispered a voice in her mind.
“Pull, girl, pull!” whispered another.
And then a voice that sounded like her mother’s—her own mother, her real, wonderful, maddening, infuriating, glorious mother—just said, “Well done, Coraline,” and that was enough.



