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Neil Gaiman: <B>The Sandman</B>
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Every artform, no matter how low, no matter how despised and 
despicable, has its transcendent figure.  For superhero comics, 
that figure is... Walt Simonson, who turned his run of <i>Thor</i> 
into the only bit of Mighty Marvel that offered the same sort of 
pleasure as classic fantasy.  The narrative technique was 
sophisticated, the art loose and suggestive, and the reinvention 
audacious (Odin dead!  Mj&ouml;lnir taken by another!  Don Blake 
gone!).  The tone darted from the lofty to the comic as needed; there 
was even a cameo by the scion of the competition.  It was sad to check 
in on <i>Thor</i> some time later, and see that Marvel had learned nothing; 
the title was back to its old hack self.  Odin and Don Blake were back,
and Thor was battling drug dealers.

<p>Superhero comics have never gone beyond this (that I know of), and 
probably can't; but Big Comics has, in the form of Gaiman's 
<i>Sandman</i>.  And it only worked because DC gave Gaiman control
over his creation, and freed him from the house rules.  Though they 
retained copyright, which may mean that Sandman will end up fighting 
druglords too.

 
	<h5>Art vs. word -- Art loses</h5>

Now that I've set the scene for a rave review, I might as well temper 
it by saying that the series falls short of what it could be, chiefly 
due to the art.  

<p>I don't mean Dave McKean's covers, which are marvelous.  They're 
constructed as much as drawn, and the're not so much illustrations as 
suggestions of something buried and menacing.  

<p>But inside, it's mostly too eighties-Big-Comics... busy, well worked, 
but neither highly competent nor particularly imaginative; and 
<b>awfully</b> colored.  The garish flat colors look as bad as any 
superhero comic... worse, since newsprint takes the bite out of the 
superguys.   

<p>The gods that appear in <i>Season of Mists</i> typify the problem.  On
the one hand, the depiction of Odin and Thor beats the hell out of 
any of Marvel's versions but Simonson's: Odin is spooky, Thor is 
impossibly, comically muscular and stupid.  On the other hand, the 
depiction of the Egyptian gods is like a scribble on the wall compared 
with those of <a href="frenchy.html#bilal">Enki Bilal</a>.  

<p>Another example from the same book is the city of the angels, which 
comes out looking like a silver tea set, with matching angels in 
Italianate draperies. 
If only an artist with the skill of a Moebius or a 
M&eacute;zi&eacute;res or a Schuiten had worked on this.  

<p>There are high points, of course.  Mike Dringenberg and Malcolm 
Jones III in the last chapters of <i>Preludes and Nocturnes</i> and 
the entirety of <i>The Doll's House</i> rise to the level of graphic 
ingenuity that makes the book really shine.  Michael Zulli's work in
<i>The Wake</i> is spectacular.  I like Jill Thompson's 
sure, simple art in <i>Brief Lives</i>; and the art in <i>World's 
End</i> (by various artists) is varied and distinctive.


 	<h5>Mythology in the key of D</h5>

<img src="illo/sandman.gif" align=right alt="Death and Dream" title="Death and Dream">

The <i>Sandman</i> volumes are introduced by horror writers; but 
<i>Sandman</i> is not a work of horror, but of fantasy-- or better 
yet, mythology.

<p>Gaiman is an excellent writer-- if you're not sure of that, try 
his <i>Neverwhere</i>, an original, quirky, and very satisfying 
fantasy, in which London coexists with a ghostly underworld,
full of horror and magic, and the fatal temptation to explain 
everything is resisted.

<p>He is erudite on many levels-- <i>Sandman</i> is filled with 
references and homages to everything from Shakespeare to Lovecraft,
from Marco Polo to G.K. Chesterton, from Robert Graves to Narnia,
from Cerebus to a few decades of DC.  (The <a href="http://www.stahl.bau.tu-bs.de/~hildeb/sandman/">
Annotated Sandman</a> dissects all of this in loving detail.)  

<p>And he's a marvelous storyteller-- few writers, in fact, could 
pull off one of his throwaway chapters, the story of an author who 
gets <i>too many</i> ideas.

<p>He easily reaches the level of Simonson's <i>Thor</i>-- revitalizing and 
reimagining a mass of received material-- but his real gift is in the
invention of a new mythology-- almost a new religion-- centering on 
Morpheus, the Sandman of the title, who turns out to be one of the 
seven 'Endless'-- deities who watch over the affairs of conscious 
beings, and on the side form the universe's oldest dysfunctional family.  

<p>Morpheus's own portfolio is Dream; everyone who dreams (or, broadly,
tells stories) visits his realm.  This gives Gaiman a wide latitude;
he can offer anything from contemporary dark fantasy to retellings
of ancient myths.

<p>In the first volume Dream finds himself imprisoned (by a 
"hedge-magicking occultist") for seventy years; then escapes and
works to reconstitute his dominion.  Gaiman spins a series of gothic 
horror tales, ending in the truly disturbing "24 hours", building 
them into an epic of loss and recovery.

<p>And then, just when you think you've got Gaiman's number, it's all 
turned on its head.  Morpheus turns out to have an older sister, 
Death... who bawls him out for being selfish and not realizing that 
she'd be worried <i>sick</i> about him.  It's a moment of humor, but 
also of sudden fascination: the palette has suddenly deepened.

<p>Death is not the grim old guy with the sickle; she's a perky goth 
chick with a rather sweet nature.  Her job is to attend the death 
of every living thing, and escort it to... whatever's next; several 
destinations seem to be possible.  She's perhaps Gaiman's neatest 
creation: here he shows that he has not only the rare gift of making 
old myths live again, but the even rarer gift of being able to throw 
out the old myths and create new ones in their place: in this case, 
imagining a Death you'd actually like to meet.

	<h5>Whingeing and moaning</h5>

This isn't to say that Gaiman always succeeds.  Some bits are very 
well done, whether long arcs like Morpheus's sister Delirium's search 
for her lost brother Destruction or short stories like that of Hob 
Gadling, the man who simply refuses to die.  

<p>On the other hand, a 
story about cats is rather self-indulgent (Jim Woodring's big, brutal
Big Red is ten times more convincing on the inner life of animals);  
and some of the story arcs suffer from the basic problem of the 
superhero books, as well as Ast&eacute;rix: the main character has 
become so powerful that he is never really in danger, and the 
emotional temperature drops. 
Morpheus visits Hell, for instance, and Lucifer utters elaborate 
threats-- but nothing really comes of them; what we expected to be a 
trick turns out simply to be a diplomatic scuffle among the gods.  

<p>The short book <i>Death: The Time of Your Life</i> is a 
disappointment.  It focusses on a lesbian singer whose personal life 
is going to pieces, and the deaths that break in on her; the moral
is more or less that Fame is a whore.  But, well, 
the couple gets back together again, Foxglove gives up on fame,
and everything is hunky-dory.  It makes no sense.  Whatever made
Foxglove chase after fame has not been resolved, nor has anything
been done to heal her relationship problems.

<p>And the role of Death is really a cheat.  An ominous choice is set 
up... and then dissipated; the required sacrifice is performed not by 
the principals but by an assistant (virtually crying "banzai!").  The 
metaphysical thread has been lost.  Death could conceivably be a good 
thing (especially if it isn't an ending but a transition), but I can't 
buy Death as a sort of tidyer-up of a few chosen people's temporal 
lives.

<p><i><a name="gameofyou">A Game of You</a></i> is more ambitious, and its faults are more 
interesting.  Here Gaiman takes a minor scene from an earlier book-- 
a vapid girl who dreams of being a princess-- and turns it 
into a rather dark fantasy; the girl's imagined, Narnia-like land 
is threatened by the sinister forces of the Cuckoo, and seems to be 
losing.  It's enlivened by some well-imagined characters-- Wanda, 
Thessaly, Wilkinson, even George, whose best scenes are all 
posthumous.  

<p>Unfortunately, its center is never as interesting as the 
periphery.  The princess is too confused and learns too little; 
the fantasy land is little explored; and the story of the Cuckoo 
is basically resolved only by a deus ex machina.  And like Iain M. 
Banks in <i>Against a Dark Background</i>, Gaiman relies a little 
too much on the shock value of killing off his secondary characters. 

<p>There's a discussion of the difference between boys' and girls'
fantasy-- interesting, but unfortunately left at the level of
pop psychology; nor is there much consideration of what happens
to our fantasies as we grow up.  (A side note: it's interesting that
A.K. Rowling's <i>Harry Potter</i> series contains the elements
(Gaiman tells us are) characteristic of <i>both</i>
boys' and girls' fantasies.)

<p>In various stories, 
the necessity to stick Morpheus into everything becomes annoying.  
It's rather like Dorothy L. Sayers' <i>Gaudy Night</i>-- a lovable 
overstuffed attic of a book, but structurally ruined by the book's 
hero, Harriet Vane, having to yield her place in the center of the 
plot to the series's hero, Lord Peter.


	<h5>You can tell the difference 'cos he's not furry</h5>

Your enjoyment of the series will probably depend on how much you 
like the character of Morpheus.  Morpheus speaks in white letters
on a black background (which is supposed to sound "otherworldly",
I suppose), and is given to things like
standing on his balcony in the rain to mope after a failed
love affair.  

<p>Morpheus starts out selfish and even cruel; over the course 
of the centuries (like Cerebus, he's a slow learner) he achieves
somewhat more maturity, until... well, until, you could say, 
he racks up more maturity than he can handle.
 
<p>He's at his best, I think, when instead of fulminating
gothishly, he's forced to interact with the other characters--
Death; one or another of his old flames; his mercurial younger
brother/sister Desire; his psychedelic youngest sister Delirium;
even his pet raven, Matthew.

<p>The other main attraction is Gaiman's bemused, quirky, cluttered worldview.  
None of the various quests that make up <i>Sandman</i>'s story arcs
goes according to plan.  No one seems to have an ultimate handle
on things, and there's room in the universe for a little of
everything: the grotesque, the wondrous, the pathetic, the
humorous.


<h5>A <i>little</i> Sandman, anyone?</h5>

<p><img src="illo/death.jpg" align=left alt="Death and Milou" title="Death and Milou">

What?  You don't want to drop $200 on the whole series?
Here's brief descriptions and evaluations of each book.

<ul>

<li><b>Preludes & Nocturnes</b> - Morpheus's imprisonment, escape,
and recovery of his MacGuffins.  A nice mix of horror styles.

<li><b>The Doll's House</b> - Tracking down some escaped nightmares.
One of the best written and drawn, and featuring a truly creepy
antihero, the Corinthian.

<li><b>Dream Country</b> - Four short stories; the best is the story
of an imprisoned Muse.  The TPB includes a script for this story;
it's interesting to see what exactly writing for a comic book consists of.

<li><b>Season of Mists</b> - Morpheus goes back to Hell to undo a past
blunder.  A romp through various mythologies; not much of a
resolution.

<li><b>A game of you</b> - A woman revisits her childhood dreamland...
hell, everybody does.  See the <a href="#gameofyou">discussion above</a>.

<li><b>Fables and Reflections</b> - short stories of varying quality,
chiefly important as background for the next book.

<li><b>Brief Lives</b> - Dream teams up, improbably, with Delirium,
to find their departed brother.  One of the best books.

<li><b>World's End</b> - Short stories told in an inn between the
worlds.  Varied and unusual.

<li><b>The Kindly Ones</b></b> - Morpheus has managed to piss off
The Fates; while they press their deadly game, he mostly sits back
and hopes for the best.  There's a lot of everything going on, but
perhaps the most intriguing aspect is the return of the Corinthian...
as a good guy... a creepy good guy.  The fullest and most intense
of the books.

<li><b>The Wake</b> - The aftermath, drawn in Michael Zulli's 
suitably reflective pencil.  Great for fans, but don't start here.

</ul>

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