The Sandman: The Kindly Ones (9)

Yes, yes. I'm behind. I finished The Kindly Ones this evening, and I still need to write about the last three books. Yikes! Maybe Sunday afternoon I'll have time to catch up.

So, it's Sunday afternoon, and I'm catching up. :) The Kindly Ones was a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions, and I truly believe it will someday be regarded as such by people much more important than myself. Our basic plot: Dream has killed his son, Orpheus, and the Kindly Ones (the Furies) are now at liberty to pursue him because they are "allowed" to avenge blood debts. Hippolyta Hall (mother to Daniel) has her son stolen, and she blames Dream, despite the fact that Dream does not steal her son initially. She is the one who awakens the furies wrath against dream, and it only spirals downward from there. We also discover in this volume that Nuala is in love with Dream, and we see the reappearance of Thessaly as Larissa. She kind of falls in love with Dream too. Dream is one of those tortured souls that attracts women apparently. I wouldn't say I'm in love with him, but I can certainly see the attraction. So Dream dies, but Death spares him being tortured further by the furies. My favorite characters were definitely Matthew (the raven), Rose Walker, and Delirium. In some ways, Dream ceases to be a character in this book, but I'm not sure I could explain why. He just reacts to things rather than actually initiating action himself.

This book was definitely less sad than it might have been without the preparation of the previous two books. Still, the end of a myth is sad no matter what, even if it's a myth we've only known briefly (just this month, in fact). I did keep hoping throughout that Dream wouldn't die. I know that's childish, but I don't think it's fair to expect my readings to be that different than the average person. I'm sad when Romeo and Juliet die too. I keep wishing that they will work it out differently no matter how many times I read the tale.

Okay, so all that being said, I want to mention artwork. This volume was very "cartoony." I'm sure there's a technical word for this style of artwork, but I don't know what it is. The best way I know to describe is that the curves are more emphasized than the lines. It makes everyone seem less sinister and more innocent. There's nothing really hideous here: even the scene where "A makeshift barge made of dead flesh is slowly poled down a river of cold semen" becomes more about the words than the image this way. I normally really like cartoons, and I like that style of artwork. But, it definitely does not do the horror genre as well as some others. For the first time since reading this series (a pitfall of having several different artists), I felt like I was reading an illustrated story rather than a graphic novel. However, this is also the first book I've read in which I've found panels that I would blow up and hang in my bedroom...actually, I might just do that. It could be my next art project :).

I'm thinking about writing a longer blog on the series as a whole. I want to discuss this issue of dying mythologies at length, and it doesn't really fit with the purpose of these individual "reviews," if that's even what they can be called. We'll have to see if I make time to do it.

The Sandman: Worlds' End (8)

So much for quitting Sandman for a while. I was in a weird mood last night, so I picked up World's End, and I finished it today after I exported my grades. I have a bad feeling about this one, and I want to remind myself to talk about the artwork again. But, quite obviously, I still need to finish my blog on Brief Lives, so one thing at a time, eh?

Oh the perils of blogging out of order once the plot thickens! My first thought about this book is that it is out of order! Haha, what I mean to say is that the events in this book take place after the events in the next book. One of the introductions mentions that Gaiman is meticulous about time, but I really beg to differ. Perhaps he knows when all the events take place, but it would take a thesis to figure out the timeline for The Sandman.

Worlds' End is another collection of stories. I guess it's a function of the medium. They were produced monthly, and every once in a while, it must be nice to buy your comic once a month and have the story actually be self-contained. Dream is in most of the stories, but not all. Still the book is about him, and that becomes clear at the end of The Kindly Ones. No matter. The basic plotline is that a large group of travelers are stuck in an inn at the Worlds' End (a place where all the worlds end) because there is a reality storm. We don't know why there is a reality storm, but if we read Brief Lives (and we did), we can surmise that the reality storm might have something to do with Dream having killed Orpheus. The main characters are: Charlene Mooney, Brant Tucker, Klaproth, Cluracain, Jim (only he's really a girl named Peggy), and Petrefax. I say these are the main characters because we learn their names, but really they are only fleeting characters in the greater drama. In any case, much like The Canterbury Tales, each traveler must tell a tale to pass the time at the inn. Actually I think this makes it more like The Decameron.

Mister Gaheris tells a tale of a dreaming city and the man who roamed its streets. Cluracain tells a story of envoy to Aurelian, a city where the position of Lord Carnal and Psychopomp have been usurped by one individual. Cluracain's story is interesting because the climactic moment occurs when he decides to tell the truth about something. He says of his species, "Sometimes we will say true things. And these things we say are neither glamour nor magic, neither prediction nor curse: But sometimes what we say is true." Again, we come back to that recurring theme in Sandman about truth being something other than what has really happened. It's different from reality. Anyway, Jim tells a story titled "Hob's Leviathan," which features our friend Hob Gadling. This story was kind of interesting because of the possibilities for gender analysis. Hob tells Peggy that he is "Old enough to hae learned to keep my mouth shut about seeing a bloody great snake in the middle of the ocean," and somehow this is evidence that Peggy can trust him with her secret as well. The idea of the great submerged snake and the great submerged secret have some possibilities. The next story is told by an unknown slightly Asian looking man, and it is about Prez Rickard, the boy President. There was something very cool about the folding of mythologies, but other than that the story was a little weird. I might have to give it some more thought. The final story was told by Petrefax, and it was about Litharge, the Necropolis. There were a few tales imbedded within this one, and I enjoyed it. There is an interesting foreshadowing/warning about having the tale about the Necropolis in this book. The citizens of the Necropolis are supposed to respect the dead, respect the passing of life, and it is certainly placed so that we heed their beliefs.

The ending of the book is the part most worth writing home about, however, at least in terms of the larger Sandman plot. At the end of the book you see a funeral procession where the Endless are pallbearers. I admit to having read the wikipedia page on The Sandman early in the series, so I had a pretty good guess who was in the casket. I won't say more about it now, but it will come up again in The Kindly Ones.

The Sandman: Brief Lives (7)

These blogs are getting terribly long. I don't suppose that's the function of a blog. I better learn to keep it short! :) This is a problem with me with everything. I talk too much and I write too much! I'll try to keep this one shorter.

Wow! Sad! I really liked this book, but the ending was sad and the introduction (it came at the end--haha) was really, really sad. The conclusion Peter Straub gleans from the book is that the Endless "are merely mythic patterns, and as such do not have the authority to interfere in human lives." Having read so far ahead at this point, I have realized that is Brief Lives that sets up this simple fact as Dream's hamartia (not hubris--people are always getting these confused). Dream's whole existence is based on his responsibility, for the dreamworld, for the dreamers, for the dreams and nightmares. He justifies his actions according to the rules he has created or inherited and set up as his purpose in life. And in many ways he needs Delirium to show him this truth, both literally and figuratively. The character Delirium with her childlike innocence can ask questions and make statements that Dream's rather left brained mind cannot fathom. She tries to lead him to a greater freedom by leaving his beaten path. There is definitely something to be said about the fact that Dream apologizes to Delirium on at least two occassions in this book, but he never manages to apologize for what he needs to apologize for.

The plot of this book is quite unified and quite simple. Delirium decides she needs a change, so she goes to ask her siblings if they will help her seek Destruction, the prodigal brother. Destiny and Desire flat out refuse. Despair refuses slightly more gently. Death manages somehow not to get involved (she does have a job to do), and Dream ends up being the only of the Endless who is willing at all to help Delirium. The quest is multifaceted. Dream needs to get out of his morose mood; another lover has left him in mourning for his humanity (he cannot keep a lover because no woman (or man) can compete with his sense of responsibility as a quasi-god). As the story progresses he is also seeking some closure to the deaths the beginning of the quest incurs. Again he feels beholden to the mortals he has hurt. Finally the quest brings him back to unfinished business with his son Orpheus who he abandoned earlier in life. Orpheus manages to barter his death (which he has been seeking for a thousand years) for information about where Destruction is. Delirium gains Destruction's dog, Barnabus, and Dream returns to his castle to brood over his son's death.

The story is very circular. It begins with Orpheus's guardian's cheerful acceptance and Dream's brooding, and it ends the same way. The highlight seems to be on the two different mindsets. When Dream returns to the Dreaming, he tells Lucien, "For the rest of today I will be retiring to my quarters. I do not wish to be disturbed." While he is dying, Andros muses, "It is going to be a beautiful day." Andros appreciates and accepts his brief life, while Dream has spent the majority of his (much less) brief life feeling sorry for himself. Dream is an interesting character. He always tries to do the right thing. Whenever one of his siblings tells him he has made a mistake, he sets off to correct it. But he never seems to get the point that the real joy comes from treating people (and gods or whatever) the right way the first time. I really like him. I like that he seems to have a sense of honor. When I said he behaves in a godlike fashion, I meant it. He definitely has a code of behavior that surpases that of the mortal world. It just doesn't seem to be enough, and it bothers me that even our gods are saddled with these eternal questions of responsibility to others versus responsibility to self, too much work versus too much play, the constant struggle for balance. Can't life be simple for anyone? It's very frustrating, but it must be a truth. I believe that truth comes from our representations. Truth does come to light with the creation of art. Sometimes though it doesn't make it any easier to swallow.

On a happier note, I adore Delirium. I don't know if she is my favorite character, but I really, really like her. She is so cute about her "milk chocolate people:" "Have you got any little milk chocolate people? About threee inches high? Men AND women? I'd like some of them filled with raspberry cream." And when she drives: "I'm good at this, aren't I? I'm really good. I knew I'd be good at driving. Bzuum. Bzuum. Dream? Look at me! Look at me driving!" And, probably most importantly, she accepts truth in a way that Dream cannot. When they finally find Destruction and he explains that he will not return to his realm and make things as they were before, she simply says, "I thought you would," and it's over. She doesn't beg and she doesn't plead. It's simple for her. Perhaps craziness does make things simple.

I'm finding it harder and harder to write frivilously about these books. Straub says, "If this isn't literature, nothing is," and he nails it. Of course, I am getting further and further from my "near instant reaction too." It's hard to find time to write AND read, but still, the themes are just too weighty. What started out simply has become a quagmire of great ideas, and I suppose that is what literature is: a quagmire of great ideas. Still, I must try (it is my passion after all).

The Sandman: Fables and Reflections (6)

Like Dream Country, Fables & Reflections is a series of short stories in which Dream appears. There are nine stories, and many of them deal with historical figures. The stories are well organized; while many will have their favorites, they build from somewhat cute to serious to rather mind-boggling. I was especially fond of "Three Septembers and a January" and "The Parliament of Rooks." I enjoyed "Orpheus" as well, but just as in the story about A Midsummer Night's Dream, the actual story is not all that original, only the telling is original. I'm going to go through them in order though because I think I have something I wanted to say about each.

I have never seen a book do what Fables & Reflections did with"Fear of Falling." The story starts right on the first page. I wasn't sure that my book wasn't damaged. The copyright page, the table of contents, and the introduction all come after "Fear of Falling." The story itself was kinda cute, but it was fairly predictable. What intrigued me was the artwork. I am way out of my league discussing comic book artwork. I am only now starting to understand how many different people are required to make the artwork: there's an illustrator or person who draws the pictures, then there's an inker who puts the color in, and there's even a person who just does lettering. That's what I'm gathering from the credits and bio pages anyway. The styles are really different between different artists. It's kinda like the difference between the animation in Sleeping Beauty and Aladdin. It's just got a different feel. Okay, so back to "Fear of Falling." The faces were shaded very differently. Everyone seemed a little shady, and I'm not sure that that was consistent really with the story or even the spirit of the story, but it was interesting. Also, the characters looked stretched. Everyone was just a little overly tall and thin. It kinda reminded me of a Hellboy comic my boyfriend showed me. I wonder if there's a name for this style of artwork. There was a lot of shadow, and the shadow was black, not gray or deeper colored. It was black. And, as a side note, Morpheus was a little less attractive that way.

I found Gene Wolfe's introduction interesting. He writes, "Do you read introductions? I do, and after having read a good many of them, I am sadly aware that most of us who write them do not know what they are supposed to accomplish, which is to enable you to start the stories without embarassment." I hadn't thought about how rarely people actually use introductions to introduce stories, but it's true, hardly anyone does. However, when Wolfe does get around to introducing the characters, he does it in a strange way. He gives us the literary/historical context behind the main characters, but he does not tell us anything that would enable us to have a conversation with the characters. He definitely leaves the human interest for Gaiman. He tells us that Caius is Emperor Augustus, but he doesn't tell us, "Hey, that's Caius, he's an okay guy, but don't mention Caesar; they had a sticky relationship." But I'm really glad I read this introduction. If I ever have to write an introduction of my own someday, I'll be sure to remember Wolfe's advice. Though I can't imagine why I would need to write an introduction.

"Three Septembers and a January" is a story about a challenge between Despair, Desire, and Dream. I liked it a lot. I liked Joshua, and I loved the fact that Dream was able to defeat his Despair by giving him the dream that he was someone. Some of it was obviously unrealistic: a newspaper would never really publish a letter claiming that one was emperor of the United States, for example. But the storyline was a hopeful one, and the minor appearances of Delirium and Death were fun. The scene between Dr. Pain and Joshua was a priceless little bit of Buddhist philosophy. I will eventually share this story with my mother. I may get her to read all the stories, but I definitely want her to read this one.

"Thermidor" is about the French Revolution, which I incidentally just learned about this past summer during my Romantic Poetry class. The main character is Lady Johanna Constantine, who I guess is in some way related to the other Constantines. Trying to protect the head of Orpheus she attempts to get it out of France, but she is waylaid by Louis-Antoine St. Just and Monsieur Robespierre. In the spirit of their revolution, they don't want any religious artifacts roaming around France. When the two are finally confronted with the head of Orpheus, they crack and can no longer run their country. The message seems to be that the way to end a bloody, misguided revolution is to bring a magic head to sing of liberty and freedom. This is, of course, a less than satisfactory answer to one of life's great questions, but...there you have it.

"The Hunt" is a story about a family of werewolves, but you don't know this until thirteen pages into the story. It was kind of romantic, but tales about vampires and werewolves often are these days. I still want to know why the werewolf man walks away from the sleeping "princess" figure toward the end. I guess true love conquers all? The grandfather telling the story was really pretty cute, and I think there are a variety of messages the young girl could take away from the story.

"August" is about Caius Agustus the Roman Emperor after Caesar spending a day each year as a beggar. I think I understood the message of the story. A lot of these stories are about boundaries, this one perhaps more than most. Caius says, "Firstly, Terminus, the god of boundaries. Jupiter must bow to him; boundaries are the most important of things, Lycius." In many ways, the boundaries Caius sets up for Rome are his way to rebel against Caesar, but in other ways, they are boundaries of morality and behavior. After telling Lycius that the number of men he has killed is countless, Caius seems to need a definite end, both physical and temporal, for the empire and its repercussions. I realize that I am talking about these stories like they all have morals, but the book is titled Fables & Reflections, so I don't feel too bad about it. Normally, I try not to talk about literature that way.

Fiddler's Green reappears in "Soft Places" (see The Doll's House), and we meet Marco Polo and Rustichello. The story is reallyabout the soft places in memory and dream where we can get stuck. That is a little obvious, but you know what I mean. Marco Polo almost did not exist because he travelled to a soft place. Dream tells him, "You come in, you do not go out again," but he eventually gets him out. Good ole Dream, huh? Time is an interesting construct in this story. Structurally the layers are interesting. Marco Polo meets a man he will not meet in his life for many years, Fiddler's Green shows up to escape one of Dream's romantic moods, and Dream himself shows up just after his captivity. We are sucked into the time portal as well because we read about Dream's release from captivity five books ago. It's all quite strange, but as I said, the stories get progressively more mind-boggling as the collection continues.

Ah, "Orpheus." What to say about this sad tale? The Endless are inserted in an interesting way. Destruction helps Orpheus seek Death, but Dream is really a horrible father. Death is adorable as ever. It's nice to see Calliope again, but unfortunate to find out that she's not sure she ever really loved Dream. Dream's lovelife is really his own fault, but it's still fairly pathetic. The way he treats his son is unforgivable though. I am not extremely well steeped in Greek myth, but I never really thought of Orpheus as regretting his immortality as much as he does in this story. Of course, he is reduced to a head, so that might have something to do with it. But I really thought he went on trips with Hercules and Jason and stuff even after he lost Euridyce. Oh well.

"The Parliament of Rooks" was one of my favorite stories. Believe it or not, I like Cain and Abel as characters. I also really liked Eve! She is so...over it all. I think it's funny and realistic. She tells Cain, "I've stopped telling stories," and "I'm NOT your mother, Cain" in a way that makes it seem like she's bitter, but handling it. The story is really about Daniel's trip to "The Dreaming," which I think foreshadows a greater role he will have to play. He ends up with Matthew, the talking raven, Eve, Cain, and Abel all telling stories. Abel's story is absolutely adorable! The drawings are so, so cute! Eve's story is pragmatic and actually I think has a basis in other mythology. I've definitely heard of Lilith before.The whole storytelling is framed by some interesting bird talk. I really enjoyed it.

The story "Ramadan" was really interesting until the political protest became too transparent. Dream is all god-like again, and the Caliph is really quite rude to him, but the ending on the streets of Bagdhad was a little too much. I guess I would not have got the point on my own, but I'm really not sure I would be happy to replace Bagdhad the way it is now with what it was in the beginning of the story. It was just too allegorical. Not enough was left up to the imagination.

Okay, so now I have finally finished my thoughts on book 6, finished book 7, and I think I'm going to take a break soon. I started a blog on The Indigo King, and I would hate to see February come along with January's reading unfinished, but we'll see. There are other reasons for giving Sandman a break right now, but I'll talk about those in the next blog.

The Sandman: A Game of You (5)

I wrote myself a note last night to remind myself that the introduction to A Game of You really irritated me. I wish I had not. Though Samuel R. Delany did initially irritate me because he writes in his introduction to move on and finish the story before reading his thoughts (why on earth don't you put it at the end then!), when I did get back to his thoughts this morning, I found them to be really on point and fabulously written. Once again I find a short but extremely poignant bit of fantasy criticism at the beginning of a graphic novel! Delany writes, "the key to this particular fantasy world is precisely that it is a fantasy world where the natural forces, stated and unstated, whether of myth or of chance, enforce the dominant ideology." It seems like he is truly disparaging Gaiman's work until he says, "And it remains just a nasty fantasy unless, in our reading of it, we can find some irony, something that subverts it, something that resists that fantasy," and this is precisely what we find. Irony is definitely the dominant characteristic of A Game of You.

I was most struck by the idea that Barbie (yes, Barbie formerly married to Ken--yuck!) is our protagonist. I am one of those short, plump, annoying moms who really doesn't want her daughters to play with Barbie because she represents unnatural and unhealthy standards for beauty. They say that if she were alive, she would be seven feet tall with a whopping thirty-eight inch bust (haha---smaller than mine), but it towers over an eighteen inch waist (definitely smaller than mine). A "perfectly proportioned female" would have ten inches difference between bust, waist, and hips (34, 24, 34) supposedly. Barbie, on the other hand, would not be able to stand or walk; she'd fall over at the waist, weighed down not by her expansive intellect, but her crazy long blond hair. Obviously, she is an ideal role model for young children. But, for Gaiman, Barbie is actually only consistent with her childhood toy theme on the surface. The first panel in which she appears shows her half naked in bed, but we learn that she has an interesting group of friends. She is the sweet Barbie the doll makers want her to be, but she is also best friends with a transsexual, strangely insecure about her face (she's always drawing on it), and she is obviously repressed in many ways.

It's hard for me to write a sentence summary of what this story was really about because I'm not sure exactly what happened. Barbie's dreamworld was in trouble from the Cuckoo, but this trouble had something to do with Barbie and Rose Walker (see A Doll's House). I was initially frustrated that Barbie was the princess of her realm (don't we get enough of Barbie's awesomeness in the pink aisle of Toys R Us?) but it wore off as the subtle hints showed how powerless and ridiculous she was in that function. Her realm is icy cold, and she has nothing on but a ball gown. She is also at the mercy of her friends/subjects because she has no idea where she is going. After losing, or being betrayed by, all her friends, she is eventually taken to the Cuckoo who turns out to be.........I don't know. I still don't know and I finished the book. There were some really cool parts of this confrontation though. As Barbie approaches the Cuckoo's Citadel, she realizes that it's her old house in Florida. I have to admit that I was really afraid to find out who the Cuckoo was at this point; I have this idea for a book of my own. But I need not have worried, the Lacanian/Freudian psychoanalysis was really quite straight forward. At least in appearance alone, the Cuckoo was Barbie's younger self. I could go on about her public self versus her private self, but I am more interested in the type of analysis Delany did in his introduction than the individual psychoses of a character based off of a plastic goddess. There was some part of her that she repressed and that part took over her dreamworld. But, that's not all there is to it. The Cuckoo was also something outside of Barbie, something like an actual cuckoo...a possessing force or something. When Dream shows up at the end, he speaks of her "kind," but no one ever really says what her "kind" was. The same is true for Thessaly, who is apparently some sort of witch but we never find out which coven or clan she belonged to or anything.

I could spend a great deal of time talking about Wanda, Hazel, Foxglove, and Thessaly too, but I really wanted to mention how interesting Dream's reaction to the whole ordeal is at the end. I think there is something very attractive about Dream. He acts like a god. I know that sounds weird because we really don't have many references for what a god acts like except what we get from mythology and religion and he really doesn't act like any of those gods. He has his own sense of morality and it's so logical that it is hard to resist. Barbie wants him to punish the Cuckoo, but he seems to feel sorry for her. Dream offers her one "boon," but she obviously has to get herself and her friends home, so she can't recreate her dreamworld or anything. I need to think more about how to explain this, but Dream is just so calm and detached. I don't understand why what the Cuckoo has done is not evil, but what Thessaly, Hazel, and Foxglove have done is evil, and yet, I feel like if I asked Dream, he could explain it. Don't get me wrong, this isn't some religious fantasy. I don't feel safe because the world is in Dream's hands or anything. I just think he's cool and godlike. I like Death for a lot of the same reasons, but Death is really nice. I always look forward to her showing up because she's sweet to the other characters. You never really know if Dream is going to be nice or not. He wasn't very sympathetic to Barbie, but he doesn't lose his temper, and he's not mean really. I'm not doing a good job of this. The point is I think Dream is kinda attractive as an Endless...thingy. :)

Best part of this book was the sheer femininity of the whole thing. I really enjoyed one of the last scenes where Barbie tells Wanda what it was like to go into a comic book store. I've only ever been into a comic book store once, and the people there were super nice! But, I thought it was cute that the guys weren't nice to Barbie at all. They made fun of her breasts, and she said they must have taken "unhelpfulness lessons." It makes me wonder if I just got lucky. I would have been more nervous the first time, but I had my kids with me. Luckily though, if I need to go into a comic book store, I can take someone with me to show me the ropes. The really funny part was when Barbie told Wanda she wished she was there because Wanda would have said something to the guys. I have mixed feelings about this. It seems like it would be nice to have someone stick up for you when guys pick on you, but on the other hand, is it really worth it? What was hurt? Her pride. Besides, the guys in the comic book store probably wanted her. Immature way of showing though.

For a guy, Gaiman really does capture women pretty well. Barbie is fairly complex, as are Hazel and Foxglove. Thessaly is cool (weird and scary, but cool), but I don't think she's really human, so I don't think she counts. Gaiman seems like he would be a really cool person to talk to. Perhaps.

The Sandman: Season of Mists (4)

Okay, I am royally pissed now because I wrote a whole blog for this book, and I thought it was quite cute if not really good, and now it is lost! So, I am going to try to remember what I wrote and recreate it, but who knows how that will go. It will probably sound forced and annoying. Blah.

I really see the value of writing these blogs right after I finish the books because I finished Season of Mists last night, and already it is getting confused in my head with A Game of You, which I started today. And that’s no good because Season of Mists was my favorite of The Sandman series so far, although I really liked the first book as well.

So yeah...I finished Season of Mists last night. Let’s start with the introduction this time just for variety’s sake and because…well, it’s at the beginning. When I sat down to read the book, my boyfriend told me that Harlan Ellison was a jerk, and on the second page I knew he was right. I don’t admit this often, so something must have triggered it. Ellison’s comments, like “if you’re one of the few surviving atavists who still read for the pure pleasure of intellectual invigoration,” were really condescending. As I am one of those “atavists,” I can only imagine how an Average Joe would feel when he picks up this book for pleasure and finds the introduction chocked with smatterings of Latin and French. Who needs it? Not me. And furthermore, the introduction seemed to do little besides stroke both Ellison’s and Gaiman’s egos. I failed to see a message besides the fact that Ellison thinks Gaiman is as brilliant, or almost as brilliant, as he finds himself.

Enough though, because I really liked this book, and I really don’t want to get stuck being snarky about the introduction. The overarching storyline (I believe it’s called an arc, for whatever reason) is that Dream has to return to Hell after a family meeting because his siblings feel he was unjust to a former lover, Nada (which he WAS). Nada means “nothing” in Spanish, and it means “dew” in Arabic, but this is totally useless and unrelated knowledge that only makes me more like Ellison. Anyway…apparently, Dream pissed off Lucifer in book one (I don’t remember him being pissed off and I haven’t gone back to check), and Lucifer has a very original way of getting revenge. He abdicates. He kicks everybody out of Hell and gives Dream the key. So the story really ends up being about the groups of beings that travel to “The Dreaming” to obtain the key to Hell from Dream.

The factions are: Thor, Odin, and Loki; Anubis, Bast, and Bes; Susano-O-No-Mikoto; Azazel, the Merkin, and Choronzon; Lord Kilderkin (the manifestation of order); Shivering Jemmy of the Shallow Brigade (a princess of Chaos); and Remiel and Duma (angels). Remiel and Duma are just there to observe (haha). Hopefully at least some of these names are familiar as all of the characters are famous mythological deities/creatures from around the world. The borrowed characters aren’t really a problem though, possibly this is because of the medium (I’ve already come to expect that some of the characters will be visitors from other stories). But mostly, I think it’s because like most good artists, Gaiman creates his own mythology as he goes along. This particular story is the mythology of how the war between Heaven and Hell ends. I won’t tell you how it ends, but I will say that I was not happy about who obtained the keys to Hell. Gaiman may be a religious man after all, despite the “r” rated nature of his books.

To return to the beginning (this is becoming an issue for me I fear—this circular writing thing), the family meeting affords the opportunity to meet all the Endless, except Destruction, who is on holiday. I am looking forward to getting to know Delirium better, but she’ll be hard pressed to replace Death or Dream as my favorite character. Death is great! I really hope Gaiman is divinely inspired in this mythology so that when I die an adorable brunette shows up to take me on.

Oh, and did I mention this was my favorite so far? Thank goodness I have seven more to read! :)

The Sandman: Dream Country (3)

I caught a lot of crap this weekend reading my graphic novel around a bunch of veteran comic book readers. Apparently, I am not to read the introductions, and it is absolutely ludicrous that I would read the published script at the end of Volume 3. It was an interesting reading environment; I am a very vocal reader, and when something is funny, I laugh out loud. When something is strange, I read it aloud to make sure it makes sense to me. The guys were quite amused I'm sure. In any case, I digress.

Dream Country was unlike the previous two Sandman books because it was really a collection of short stories in which Dream makes an appearance rather than chapters in a story about Dream. The first story, "Calliope" was about a muse that had been captured by one famous author and given to another in order to inspire further best sellers. I enjoyed this story because I aspire to write, and I can certainly sympathize with the frustration the authors feel when they have no ideas. However, the really sad part of the story is the complete lack of respect both authors have for the muse. The one who captured her refers to her as a cow, and the one who obtains possession during the story rapes her and doesn't even feel guilty about it. Dream rescues her by cursing the latter author with a plethora of ideas, which he finds so all encompassing that he has to write them on the walls with his own blood in order to get them out.

Incidentally, this is also the story for which the script is provided in the back of the book. It was really interesting to see how the artist, Kelley Jones, interpreted Gaiman's words. Gaiman's comments were really amusing too. At some point, he randomly apologized for being too tired to finish a certain number of pages in a night. He also makes several wry comments mid explanations. The script was quite long: several pages longer than the actual story. My boyfriend made the comment that perhaps the bloated scripts were one reason The Sandman series has a new artist for every book. I think not, but whatever.

The second story features felines as the main characters, and it left me a little cold. I wanted the cats to change the world with their dream, as the afflicted cat promised their concurrent dreaming would. However, I guess I see the validity in the idea that cats cannot agree on anything and are therefore incapable of community action. Still, I think from the fantasy aspect, the story would be more subversive if the cats actually did manage to change the world. A theme that seems to be running through the books is that though things never happened, they can still be true. And in this case, our imaginations simply have to make the alternate universe true for the cats.

The third story is the one about Shakespeare that seems to have attracted a great deal of critical attention. The writing was actually mostly Shakespeare's, and the twist to the story was that the actual characters were the audience. Once again, Gaiman seems to be playing with the idea of truth. The truth of the actual characters validates the truth of Shakespeare's version of human nature. It was interesting. I like the completely fictional idea that Shakespeare's son Hamnet hangs out with him for a while though. It increases my respect for Shakespeare as a man, even though I know it is completely untrue.

The fourth story featured a character that I knew nothing about, and I really didn't find it that interesting, except that Death showed back up, and I like her. Rainie, or Element Girl (?), longs for death because she can no longer function in society. She goes out to lunch with a friend and loses her fake face she has put on for the occasion. Death leads her in the right direction for suicide, and it was a little touching maybe. But mostly, I was just interested in what her body was made of. I am sure that there is a running theme through traditional comics about the inconveniences and difficulties of being superhuman, but this story really didn't wrench my heart the way it could have.

So, back to introductions (I'm tacking this on at the end--can you tell?) I did not enjoy the introduction to The Sandman: Dream Country as much as I enjoyed the previous intro (The Doll's House), but Steve Erickson did provide a nice anecdote about a dream he had about his father shortly after his death. I liked the previous intro because it was all about fantasy, and that is really my thing. And, so far, Dream Country is my least favorite of The Sandman series because I like Dream, and I missed him. Thank goodness I have another seven to read.