Review:
American Gods, by Neil Gaiman
| Publisher: |
HarperTorch |
| Copyright: |
July 2001 |
| Printing: |
May 2002 |
| ISBN: |
0-380-78903-5 |
| Format: |
Mass market |
| Pages: |
588 |
At the start of
American Gods, Shadow is in prison. He's done
three years of a sentence of six and is about to get released on parole.
He has a wife and a job waiting for him and every hope of getting back to
a good life.
None of that happens. The day he's released, he finds out his wife died
in a car accident. The job is gone too; it was an offer from his best
friend, who died in the same accident. Numb, an ex-con, with no job
prospects, he's recruited by a strange man named Wednesday, with the help
of a leprechaun named Mad Sweeney, to drive Wednesday around the country,
run errands for him, hurt people if absolutely necessary, and hold his
vigil if he dies. And that's how Shadow is drawn into the conflict
between old gods and young, between the gods that immigrants brought to
America from the old world and the flashy new gods of technology and media
that America is creating for itself. With native American gods and
cultural legends watching around the edges.
I first read
American Gods shortly after it came out and before I
started writing reviews, so this is a re-read. It's a book I'm glad I
re-read before reviewing. The first time I read it, I was thoroughly
engrossed and thought it was excellent. This time, I was entertained, but
surprised at how slowly it moved, how disconnected it sometimes felt, and
how little substance there was to the plot.
Reading
American Gods involves spending lots of time with Shadow,
and I think one's reactions to this book will vary a lot based on how much
one likes him as a character. Shadow is very withdrawn, very detached
from the world, and quietly matter-of-fact in how he goes through his
life. He's been through some major shocks and has been severed fairly
thoroughly from society by three years in prison, and he doesn't reconnect
easily. To some readers, such as myself, this comes across as taciturn
competence and quiet observation, two things that I greatly enjoy reading
about. I liked Shadow, liked reading between the lines for hints at his
feelings, and sympathized a lot with his emotional state. But I can
easily see an alternative reading that makes him a cipher or, worse, a
blank spot in the book into which the reader has to insert themselves.
One has to work at seeing Shadow's character and finding some sympathy for
the degree to which he stays separate from the world.
American Gods does have a plot, but it's the sort of plot that
allows for endless digressions, background stories, and side meetings. In
that, it reminded me less of Gaiman's other novels and more of several
arcs of
Sandman. I think it's worthwhile to think of this less as
a novel and more as an extended ramble through the world as Gaiman sees
it, full of mythology, stories, quirky people understanding the world in
their own ways, and upwellings of the sacred and significant in the most
unexpected of places. For example, the holy places of America in
American Gods, analogous to the multiple small sacred places and
old ruins in Europe, are roadside attractions, via a line of argument that
makes much more sense than it has any right to and demonstrates a canny
understanding of the expression of American entrepreneurial culture.
As with much Gaiman, reading with Wikipedia or another mythological
resource at hand is a good idea. Even if you have a good general
knowledge of the most common mythology studied in the US, you probably
won't recognize many of the figures Gaiman draws on: Czernobog, for
example, or Wisakedjak. Part of the fun of this book is seeing Gaiman
humanize them and embed them in modern culture and modern concerns while
retaining their mythological edge and strangeness. As any reader of
Sandman can tell you, this is one of Gaiman's strengths as a
writer, and he does it well here. The bits with the undertakers Mr. Ibis
and Mr. Jacquel (Thoth and Anubis) are absolutely brilliant and probably
the best sections of the book (although Sam's exchange with the Men in
Black is a strong contender).
"Back in my day, we had it all set up. You lined up when you died,
and you'd answer for your evil deeds and for your good deeds, and if
your evil deeds outweighed a feather, we'd feed your soul and your
heart to Ammet, the Eater of Souls."
"He must have eaten a lot of people."
"Not as many as you'd think. It was a really heavy feather. We had
it made special. You had to be pretty damn evil to tip the scales on
that baby."
Like so much of Gaiman's work, this is the sort of book that contributed a
half-dozen quotes to my quote file during my first reading. Gaiman always
impresses me by not only managing to portray gods as human without losing
the numinous edge, but sustaining that portrayal through very extended
contact with the same god.
And despite the interlude with the undertakers, the long interlude in
small-town life in Lakeside, and the numerous other digressions and
meanderings of a book that's not in much of a hurry to get anywhere, there
is a plot and a definite conclusion, and Gaiman has some interesting
twists in store at the end of that road. There's a lot of philosophical
currents going on under the surface, not all of which cohere, but Gaiman
does pull a lot of them together. The resolution can be a bit of an
anticlimax, but I think it's a fitting one that's true to the nature of
the story.
I didn't enjoy this as much on the second reading as I did on the first.
It didn't feel quite as coherent as I'd remembered it, and the meandering
pace occasionally made the story feel stretched. But I do like Shadow, I
love spending time in Gaiman's head and with his portrayals of deities,
and
American Gods is a treasure of great quotes. If you enjoy
Gaiman's other work and aren't looking for a lot of plot and
forward-moving energy, this is definitely recommended.
Rating: 7 out of 10