Lower Decks

I just spent about the last month reading three different books from Neil Gaiman. It helped that during that span, I was on vacation for two weeks of it, but it also helped that I was reading, well, Neil Gaiman. This has been a good year for the celebrated genre author. He got perhaps his most distinctive cinematic exposure in the spring when ‘Coraline’ was released to unsuspecting audiences, while his latest book for young readers, ‘The Graveyard Book,’ is still new enough where I can remember that it’s the first time I can really recall his being treated with RESPECT (reserved, of course, for those really special writers). He’s also writing the Metamorpho feature in DC’s ‘Wednesday Comics’ newsprint-sized adventures, which is a different kind of exposure altogether.

I’ve got a bit of an embarrassing admission to make before we go much farther. The most famous of Neil Gaiman’s contributions to literature? I’ve only to this point read a handful of issues from his epic ‘Sandman,’ the most hallowed of Vertigo series (one might argue, the whole reason that line exists at all). It came around at a point where I had only just begun to have a chance reading comics (finally), and while I was aware of it, I was more ready to read that brand of stories most associated with the form, costumed superheroes, and besides, Superman was experiencing a giant experience all his own (one could say, earning a visit to the Sandman realm), the biggest ever. Still, ‘Sandman’ was around long enough, in the original series, so it would never entirely slip my attention, and continue to pop up to ensure I wouldn’t forget it, or its creator.

In high school, I became aware that this Neil Gaiman character had started writing books, too, but I was too caught-up catching up with Douglas Adams to really pay attention. It wasn’t until college, when I read the last Adams anyone really needs to read (‘The Long, Dark Tea-time of the Soul’) that Gaiman had ‘American Gods’ prepared to finally break down the barrier. For people outside the traditional influence of Gaiman’s work, ‘American Gods’ was the event they’d been waiting for, a big idea they could handle and celebrate, and it was, as I said, the perfect timing for me as well, so I read that and thoroughly loved it. Still, I didn’t seem to have the time to properly inure myself to his distinctive talents. I guess I had to get through Stephen King first, the gothic prince of Maine I seemed to follow through so many schools. In many ways, if you’re looking for the next logical step from King, Neil Gaiman is your man.

So by 2009, I found myself with three Gaiman books, and a reading list, and all three I purposefully lined up together, with the fervent hope that it would not somehow turn out to be a mistake. I started out with what seemed like a sure thing, the sequel to ‘American Gods,’ which hadn’t gotten quite such glowing critical praise, but since I don’t typically guide myself by what others say, I wasn’t too worried about it. I trusted Gaiman. I guess that’s as good a way to sum up my feelings toward him, all those years. As you go through life, you gradually realize you’re never going to get the chance to experience everything that’s out there, and so you begin to catalogue those things you know you’ll never get to but know you’d like all the same, while you reach those that happen to have some personal, immediate meaning for you. Gaiman was one of the former for a long time, but finally found himself in the latter. ‘Anansi Boys’ doesn’t even follow a direct line from ‘American Gods,’ as it turns out, but the more you read it, the better it is for it, the more clever, the more appropriate. Anansi, as those who read the first book know, is the trickster god who serves as Shadow’s and the reader’s introduction to Gaiman’s expansive understanding of modern mythology, and his death is a breaking point for one story and the opening for another, as his offspring gradually realize the role they inherit, and the tricky underpinnings that complicate their lives beyond all reason (but then, that’s the point, isn’t it?).

It didn’t take long to realize how addictive Gaiman still was for me. ‘Fragile Things’ came next. It’s a collection of short stories that among other things, held the promise of a more direct sequel to ‘American Gods,’ which was all the hook I needed at the time. But that’s the last story of the book (“Monarch of the Glen”), leaving a lot more before it to get through. Gaiman helpfully begins things by explaining the origins of each story, which I was continually referencing while I read them, like he was a shaman guiding the experience (no wonder he conjured Anansi…). I began to understand him better as a creative voice, reading this one. There were certainly some stories that engaged me more than others, but by the time I finally reached “Monarch,” and reunited with Shadow, I was not in the slightest bit disappointed, or worried that I still had one book to go.

‘Good Omens,’ as it is, is practically Gaiman’s literary introduction, a legendary collaboration with Terry Pratchett, the shaman of the Discworld, a book every bit worth recommending on its own, or as a companion to ‘American Gods,’ or as a reference for those wondering if Pratchett ever, um, leaves Discworld. Of those books, because there are so many of them and hardly enough time for me to devote to them, I’ve only read ‘The Truth,’ so this was an excellent opportunity to step on two turtles with one elephant (er, something). Easily the best of the lot (with no insult meant), ‘Good Omens’ is the kind of fable that in its total irreverence turns out to be exactly the kind of relevant thing you should be reading, commenting on things ineffable in just the way that makes you completely horrified to be alive on this planet, and hey, to also feel really good about it. I dunno. There’s also something about dropping this book in the tub a lot.

There’s lots of Neil Gaiman to be had, certainly ‘Sandman,’ if you want to start somewhere you know lots of people have been before, a grim and moody and no doubt quite fantastic predecessor to those things I myself have managed to find. The fact that it took me about a month and a half to get through all three of these books (when my average is a book a month) is one testament to his powers, but Gaiman is truly one for the ages, even if he’s not quite there in the public esteem today. He does something better than write stories that involve everyday experiences few quite know how to express, he goes one better and makes our world a little more clear, a little better, simply by exploring it in terms that make it bigger than it is. And exactly as it as, as all true imaginative minds know. Maybe he seems a little too familiar for some people, trading on language we already know. But it’s my sneaking suspicion that he likes it that way. Neil Gaiman’s gift is a trick, one that’s all too easy to fall for.

Now, as I’ve said, I’ve got a reading list, and it’s a long one, and I really want to stick to it as best I can. It’s bad enough there’s a new Hitchhiker’s book coming out in October. I have a feeling I’ll be wanting to revisit Gaiman soon, too. Maybe it’ll finally be Morpheus’s time. That wouldn’t be so bad…

Also, if you’ll recall, I stated last week that I was writing about Lord of the Rings this week. I rejiggered the HYGOTS schedule a bit, having originally made a lengthy projection window that I’ve been following pretty faithfully for a while. Rest assured, faithful reader, that one’s still coming.