Good Omens (Amazon Prime and BBC Series)

As regular readers know, I am more of a book than TV show sort, and only rarely blog about movies or television. 

I am making an exception in this case to talk about Good Omens. Four years ago, we listened to the audiobook of the Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman original, and enjoyed it. (It also got us interested in Gaiman, who has now become my second daughter’s favorite author.) 

I tend to approach screen adaptations of books with trepidation, as very few have made the transition well. Usually, the stories get changed (for the worse) by the need to cater to Hollywood conventions, characters are reduced to stereotypes, and the limits on length mean that important stuff gets omitted altogether. There are exceptions. The BBC/A&E version of Pride and Prejudice is perhaps the pinnacle of the genre. I reviewed The Barchester Chronicles here. While not completely faithful, the classic Canadian version of Anne of Green Gables was a favorite of mine growing up. I haven’t seen the Harry Potter movies - I have only read the first two books, so I am sticking with my “books first” principles. 

[Note: there is a theme here. The good adaptations tend to be British or Canadian, NOT American. Seriously, USA, up your game!] 

Despite my worries, I was determined to watch Good Omens. Not least because the casting of David Tennant and Michael Sheen looked so incredibly perfect in the previews. I mean, just look. Here is the original illustration from the book:

And here are Tennant and Sheen:

And the mannerisms seem perfect too. Unsurprisingly, now that I have seen the whole series, it turns out that it was indeed perfect casting, and that the relationship of Crowley and Aziraphale is the best part of the whole thing. 

The best way to approach the series - as with any screen adaptation - is to view the movie and the book as two separate works of art. They are related, but they cannot be exactly the same, simply because written words and motion pictures are different media. A sculpture and a painting are different, even if they portray the exact same scene. 

In the case of Good Omens, I think the adaptation was excellent, and the artistic decisions quite defensible. The ending is slightly different. The scenes where Crowley and Aziraphale are put on trial for treason by their respective bosses is not in the book - although it is kind of funny. 

My biggest disappointment with the series was entirely predictable. While I am pretty sure all the important parts of the plot made it into the show, there were a number of hilarious scenes which either were cut altogether, or ended up as super fast allusions. For example, the scene with the Four Horsemen meeting the biker gang ("You're Hells Angels, then? What chapter are you from?" “REVELATIONS, CHAPTER SIX.”) is missing. Ditto for the spoof of televangelists. 

Likewise, the scene after Adam inadvertently converts a nuclear reactor into a lemon drop, when the terminally stupid reporter asks the nuclear energy chief if terrorists were involved is reduced to a little clip playing on the radio in the background. And while R. P. Tyler is still in a few scenes, the line about him is missing. (“R. P. Tyler was not, however, satisfied simply with being vouchsafed the difference between right and wrong. He felt it his bounden duty to tell the world.”)

But, this is what happens when you try to fit a book that takes ten hours on audiobook into a six episode series. A few things get cut. This is a minor quibble, given how good the rest was. 

Other things I liked: the opening credits, done in the Monty Python style, and the sly use of cultural references throughout. (The book did this too, although the series updates some of them for 2019.) The sets and details were delightful too. I really want to live in Aziraphale’s bookshop, honestly. 

The rest of the cast was excellent as well, even if Tennant and Sheen were clearly the stars of the show. Jon Hamm as the archangel Gabriel is delightfully smug. Honestly, I just wanted to punch him, which is also true to the book. Anna Maxwell Martin as Beelzebub and Ned Dennehy as Hastur were memorable as the two most featured demons. Sam Taylor Buck was unexpectedly convincing as Adam (the antichrist). With his combination of childlike innocence and charisma, he nailed it. He bears watching in the future. Screen veterans Miranda Richardson, Jack Whitehall, and Michael McKean were predictably excellent in bit roles as Madam Tracy, Newton Pulsifer, and Witchfinder Shadwell respectively. I know I am a sucker for brainy brunettes, but I think I have a crush on Anathema Device, played by Puerto Rican actress Adria Arjona. Again, excellent job on casting and acting - I can’t think of a character that didn’t work. 

The moment near the end where Satan himself appears, with the intent of destroying Adam if he refuses to cooperate in destroying the world, was excellent. Adam, with his vulnerability in plain view, faces down Satan and informs him that he is not and will never be Satan’s son. “You can’t just show up 11 years later and expect to be a father!” Adam realizes that his true father is the man who did the work. His human father, who is a good-hearted, occasionally bumbling, and loveable mensch. And that is what matters. 

I must say, I do recommend reading the book. But the series was quite enjoyable, and I can recommend it without reservation. (And yes, the kids really loved it too.)

***

This review would not be complete without a look at the obvious connection between Good Omens and the worst of religious fundamentalism which gave rise to the book in the first place. 

Predictably, certain Fundies got their panties in an absolute wad over the series, and tried to get it cancelled. Except, in what has to be one of the funniest fails of recent time, they sent their protest to Netflix. (The series was created by the BBC and AMAZON, not Netflix…) 

Some of the criticism is entirely predictable, of course. A few others, though, are silly even from a Fundie point of view. I figured it might be worth mentioning some of them. And poking fun.

First, this is further proof that, unlike the truly admirable religious sorts of past and present, Fundies have no sense of humor whatsoever. People who are secure in their own faith, charitable toward others, and focused on loving their neighbor do not get all hot and bothered over a little satire. I mean, what kind of faith do you have if you can’t poke fun at it yourself from time to time? 

The wisest pastor I ever had, the late Jack Stiles, summed up true Christianity in a way that I still think is the best I have heard: “Love God. Love your neighbor. Don’t take yourself too seriously.” 

And that is what is going on with Good Omens. It is satire of a phenomenon that is so very ripe for mockery. 

That leads me to this:

The whole End Times™ thing is a modern invention.

I was raised in this craziness. In the circles I was in, the Rapture, the Antichrist, the Four Horsemen, the whole thing - was all the rage. Eventually, we ended up with the Left Behind series. A laughably bad, horribly written, mean spirited, and eminently mockable pile of shit that so many of my former faith tradition treat as gospel truth. (I highly recommend the takedown that Fred Clark of Slacktivist did of the series.) 

But the thing is, the whole edifice dates merely to the 1900s and one John Nelson Darby. I’m not kidding. In line with the trend of treating scripture like a scientific text that was all the rage back then (and still poisons the Evangelical understanding of the Bible), he tried to take three disparate texts - Matthew 24, I Thessalonians 4-5, and the Revelation (formerly the Apocalypse of St. John) - and make them into a literal and detailed prophesy of what would occur in the future. In essence, Darby took passages about different things, and tried to tease out a literal script for the future. 

That no serious and responsible biblical scholar would have justified such an approach, or that Evangelicals themselves would never have accepted such hermeneutics about literally ANY OTHER TOPIC is indisputable. But the appeal of a script whereby most of humanity (except for those with perfectly correct theology) would be slaughtered while the faithful look on with glee had too much appeal to Evangelicals, alas. The revenge fantasy won out over the historical teachings of the church, responsible interpretation of the apocalyptic genre, or even hermeneutical consistency. 

So, Gaiman and Pratchett had a lot of material to work with. They put it to good use, and came up with what I consider the best book on the topic of eschatology I have ever read. 

I am going to quote Pastor Stiles again here. When asked what he believed about the end times, he said, “I’m a pan-tribulationalist and pan-millennialist. I believe that with God in charge, it will all pan out in the end.” Which is a so much more productive approach to the topic than wasting thousands of hours building up a detailed fantasy. 

So, with that in mind, let me poke fun at some specific objections. 

#1: Good Omens is “another step to make satanism appear normal, light and acceptable.”

These are the same people who thought that AC/DC actually worshipped Satan. See my point above about no sense of humor. They can’t see satire when they trip over it.

Also, anyone who thinks there are more than a handful of people who actually believe Satan exists and worship him is delusional. The Church of Satan is quite explicit about that. For the most part, “satanists” are just countercultural sorts who are atheistic or agnostic in belief, and humanist (in a rather good way, actually) in philosophy. They have far more in common with, say, Erasmus, Thomas More, and Soren Kierkegaard than with anything truly occult.  

And I would add that anyone who thinks that watching Good Omens leads to satanism hasn’t actually watched it. Satan is an asshole in the movie. And so are most of the demons. So...that’s a stretch.

#2: “This type of video makes light of Truth, Error, Good and Evil.”

No, actually it doesn’t. It makes light of YOUR SPECIFIC DOCTRINES about truth, error, good, and evil. Big, big difference. 

Anyone who thinks that Good Omens is immoral or agnostic about truth needs to pay closer attention. I have read quite a bit of Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman since discovering them a few years back. Both are highly moral and ethical writers and thinkers. Which is exactly why they reject many aspects of Fundamentalism. For the same reason I did: Fundamentalism is morally bankrupt and incapable of ethical thought or behavior. (That’s one reason that Christ’s ire was reserved for the fundamentalists of his day.) 

What Good Omens does do is question just which side is the good side. And which is the evil. And who is actually telling the truth. 

The central event in the book is, after all, the End of the World. Which is, in the Fundie revenge fantasy, exactly what Good Omens portrays it as: a cosmically epic dick measuring contest between the forces of “good” and the forces of “evil.” They get to finally show who is greater - and so what if most of humanity becomes the collateral damage. 

This is, to put it mildly, thoroughly unethical. And Crowley and Aziraphale come to that realization - because they actually like and love human beings, unlike the Fundie versions of God and Satan, each of whom burn with hate and rage against humanity. 

So yeah, if that is “making light” of morality, bring it on. It is high time the nastiness of Fundie doctrine is exposed for the evil it is. They make God out to be as nasty, vicious, cruel, and hateful as themselves. 

Now for the more amusing complaints:

#3: “The Antichrist is portrayed as an ordinary kid.”

Um, yeah. What else would he be? Okay, it is more likely that he would be a spoiled trust fund baby raised to be a narcissist. But Donald Trump is so beloved by Fundies and Evangelicals…

(Actually, it is amusing in a very dark way that Trump fits most of the Evangelical beliefs about The Antichrist™ and everybody can see that...except Evangelicals.)

But think of this: Jesus Christ himself was mostly an unremarkable human child. He shows up at age 12 with an unusual interest in and knowledge of the Hebrew scriptures - so he was a nerd, I guess. But then disappears for another 18 years. Thoroughly ordinary - to the point where people from his hometown laugh at the idea he is a prophet. That’s actually kind of the point: Christ was joe-average-human - the God who became fully human to suffer and die alongside us. 

So why would the antichrist be any different? It’s not like he would just drop from the skies. 

Also to the point is the scripture itself doesn’t tell of an antichrist. Saint John actually mentions multiple antichrists - and more importantly, the SPIRIT of antichrist. The key theological point here is that antichrist is a spirit of opposition to the spirit of God. It is opposition to the teachings and example of Jesus Christ. That there have been (and will be) MANY “antichrists” is predicted by the Bible. The grand idea of a single Antichrist™ is part of the whole misinterpretation of the other writings of Saint John - the apocalyptic literature, which was a known fantastical genre in the ancient world, intended to give comfort to the suffering, and NOT to be considered a literal prediction of the future. 

I might also add in here that I see nothing odd about the idea that a human might have the choice to be or not be an antichrist. The most obvious antichrist figure of the last century, Hitler, could have made different choices, and the world would have been different. (Also, some good parallels: ordinary kid, appeal to hatred against outsiders, wildly popular with the Christians of Germany, policies to dehumanize and persecute minorities...sound familiar? The spirit of antichrist lives - and it has possessed white Evangelicals in our time.) 

#4: “God is voiced by a woman”

This one makes me laugh every time. In orthodox and historical Christian doctrine, God is not male or female. God is spirit. Both men and women are equally created in the image of God. Thus, to the extent that God has any gender characteristics, God has the characteristics of both male and female. This is not theologically controversial. 

Or wasn’t, until the rise of Christian Patriarchy. Now, in order to justify the subordination of women, all kinds of genuine heresies have been embraced. And Fundies are so very, very pissed when it is suggested that God isn’t 100% completely male, and NOT in any way female. 

But if God isn’t either, why would their voice sound only like a man? Couldn’t their voice also sound like a woman? I mean, nothing against Morgan Freeman, but why not Frances McDormand too? 

#5: “The Four Riders of the Apocalypse shouldn’t be riding motorcycles.”

Whaaat? This one is so laughable. Because Saint John wrote before the invention of the internal combustion engine, we have to stick with literal horses? That is beyond silly. 

Leaving aside the fact that Death, Famine, Pestilence, and War are METAPHORS, if they were real in our day and time, they would totally ride motorcycles. PuhLEEZE. 

Besides:

"You're Hells Angels, then? What chapter are you from?" 

“REVELATIONS, CHAPTER SIX.”

 The Four Horsemen of the Tiki Apocalypse, by my artist friend Craig Fraser

 

Other things I’m surprised they didn’t complain about:

And I’m sure the reason they didn’t is that they only watched the previews, not the actual show. And haven’t read the book either, because these are all in the book.

[Spoiler] Anathema and Newton HAVE SEX. And it is really good sex too. And, like the couple in The House of Seven Gables, in doing so, they bring unity and closure to a centuries-long feud. 

Sexual jokes! “They'd come here to spoon and, on one memorable occasion, fork.”

There is music by gay people! Namely, by Freddy Mercury of Queen. Readers of the book will understand why:

“Crowley was currently doing 110 mph somewhere east of Slough. Nothing about him looked particularly demonic, at least by classical standards. No horns, no wings. Admittedly he was listening to a Best of Queen tape, but no conclusions should be drawn from this because all tapes left in a car for more than a fortnight metamorphose into Best of Queen albums.”

And, throughout the book, every time Crowley or Aziraphale try to play something else, it comes out as Queen. If you want to read more about all that, here you go. 

Feminism! Pepper, speaking to War: “My mum says war is just masculine imperialism executed on a global stage.” 

Also: Pepper is...not white. Horrors. (Amma Ris is great in the role, though. I wouldn’t mess with her.) 

Language: Fuck, shit, bitch, and more. Get used to it. (And for god’s sake, don’t ever read Chaucer…) 

Norse Mythology by Neil Gaiman

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

This would be a cool book to own. In hardback, of course.

We have wanted to listen to this one since it came out. It was, however, quite popular, and we had to wait for that to die down before we could listen to it. It was worth the wait.

At the outset, it is good to set proper expectations. This is not a complete book of Norse myths. It is not poetry. It is not scholarly. It is not particularly adult oriented. Rather, it is an elegant, spare, focused, retelling of the most important myths, at the level of a late elementary school reader. If you look at it that way, it is a fine work.

This isn’t my first exposure to Norse mythology. I own and have read the entire three volumes of Thomas Bulfinch’s Mythology, which devotes a couple of chapters to those myths. This book is still my go-to reference for Western mythology. I know I have read more detailed accounts of at least some of the myths elsewhere. And, of course, there is Wagner. I have a beloved 1895 first edition of H. A. Guerber’s Stories of the Wagner Opera, which has been a great resource. The Norse myths are also a part of our culture, and part of our storytelling - even our days of the week. Both Tolkien and C. S. Lewis drew heavily on the myths at various times in their writing, as did many authors since that time. And now, of course, they have been resurrected for comic book and movie franchises.

So these stories are familiar...but not entirely. Many of us know Odin (Wotan), Thor, Loki, and Freya. Some of us also think of Frey, and Frigg, and Baldur; Heimdall, Hel, and Fenrir. And then the giants, both mountain and frost. And the “midgard” or “middle earth” residents such as dwarves, humans, and elves.

As I noted, Gaiman selects the best known - and most complete - stories. In his delightful introduction, he mentions a number of story threads which are incomplete, characters whose back stories are alluded to, and so on - but their stories have been lost somewhere in antiquity. There is no doubt that Gaiman loves the myths: these are truly loving retellings.

Adding to the experience is Gaiman reading his own stories. Seriously, he is so good at his reading. I think this is one reason he ended up as kind of a literary superstar. It is definitely worth seeking out his audiobooks for this reason alone.

My kids greatly enjoyed the book. In particular, any scene when Thor eats to excess was popular. The favorite had to be Thor in drag, pretending to be Freya so he can kill the giant who stole his hammer.

Also funny, of course, is just how much of a lunk Thor is, and how too-clever-by-half-for-his-own-good the ever-scheming Loki is. After all, he is the source of most of the problems for the gods; and also the only guy who can get them out of those problems. I have joked before that Loki is the God of Lawyers. I’m only half joking. He was the master of the loophole centuries before we switched to Due Process as a replacement for Trial By Battle. Thor may be the brawn behind the law, but Loki is the one who gives Thor’s hammer its legal cover.

And then there is poor Freya. Cursed with beauty, she is constantly desired by giants and ogres. And, of course, because she inhabits a patriarchal and sexist Aasgard, Thor and Loki (and the rest) are more than willing to use her as a bargaining chip. One wonders if the poets who first told the tales realized that she seems smarter than the gods combined, and that the deities would be far better off if they let her run things? It seems possible. Poets have tended to both support and subvert the established order.

I was also intrigued by the dichotomy of gods and goddesses, and the giants. They are actually fairly evenly matched in many cases. Sure, Thor and his hammer are pretty badass. But the doofus keeps losing it. And without their magic apples and magic castle, the gods can be a bit helpless. More often than not, it seems that the main advantage the gods have over the giants is that they are just a little bit smarter. They can plan and not just react. Which is why it takes Loki to end the world.

When it comes to ancient stories, there is no one right way to tell them. Myths live because we retell - and reinvent - them. For someone who grew up reading the Fitzgerald translations of Homer, there are times that Gaiman’s prose seems less, well, epic and poetic than it could be. It isn’t Seamus Heaney’s Beowulf or Robert Pinsky’s Inferno. But Gaiman is a skilled storyteller, and his prose flows beautifully in its own way. It is perfect for kids, honestly, and an adult can appreciate its simple beauty. Perhaps, as Sibelius said about his own music, others may offer exotic cocktails, but he serves cold, clear water.

***

Yes, I have read or listened to a lot of Neil Gaiman lately. My second daughter is a huge fan, and I try to read stuff she is interested in too. Here is the list of other Gaiman stuff we have read over the past few years:

Coraline

Fragile Things

Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett)

The Graveyard Book

M is for Magic

Neverwhere

Odd And The Frost Giants

***

This post definitely calls for some Wagner. We can certainly quibble with the fact that Wagner really means Asgard, not Valhalla, but the music is still fantastic.

Fragile Things by Neil Gaiman

Source of book: Borrowed from the library.

We have already listened to a Neil Gaiman book this year, Neverwhere, so I ordinarily would have waited before reading more. However, my 14 year old second daughter is really into Gaiman right now. Okay, so she has loved him ever since we listened to Coraline a few years back. Anyway, she checked this book out, read it, and told me I should read it. When your teenager says that, well....

This book has some overlap with “M” Is For Magic, namely “October in the Chair,” “How To Talk To Girls At Parties,” “Sunbird,” and the poem, “Instructions;” but it also contains a number of more adult stories. The short stories and poems were mostly published previously in magazines or book anthologies. They span a wide range of genres, although they all are recognizably Gaiman within a few paragraphs at most. He has, shall we say, a style. I’ll stick to the format I used in “M” Is For Magic, and detail the short stories not in that former collection. There are also a number of poems, which range from fairly traditional to free verse. With the exception of “Instructions,” which is simply fantastic, the poems aren’t as good as the story, in my opinion.

A Study In Emerald

This is, as Gaiman puts it, Sherlock Holmes finds himself in an H. P. Lovecraft story. So some combination of the supernatural and aliens, but with a logical sleuth.

Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire

This one is a real gas. This person, who appears to live in a ghoulish fantasy world, keeps trying to write, as he puts in “realistic fiction on the human condition.” Except that his proper Gothic horror novel keeps getting “humor” thrown in - it starts sounding like a novel of manners from our world. Finally, a raven asks him the fatal question: “Do you enjoy writing it?” The answer, of course, is “no.” So he gives in and writes what he wants.

The young man shivered. He rolled the stock themes of fantasy over in his mind: cars and stockbrokers and commuters, housewives and police, agony columns and commercials for soap, income tax and cheap restaurants, magazines and credit cards and streetlights and computers…

“It’s escapism, true,” he said, aloud. “But is not the highest impulse in mankind the urge toward freedom, the drive to escape?”

I suspect Gaiman has gotten the equivalent of this as a result of his own dedication to fantasy, rather than “realistic” literary novels. But of course, good writing in any genre tells us things about human nature.

The Flints of Memory Lane

This one is a short ghost story. At least a sort-of ghost story.

Closing Time

This is story about a childhood memory, with a framing story of an old drinking club. Not necessarily Gaiman’s memory - although he says the places are real - but the memory of a character within the framing story.

Bitter Grounds

This is a rather bizarre tale. The narrator is reeling from a bad breakup, and is out on the road, essentially running away. He meets this guy who asks for a ride to meet a tow truck to tow his broken down car. When they get there, the guy has forgotten his wallet and briefcase. The narrator goes back for them, but when he returns, there is no sign of either the man or the tow truck. He tries to find information, only to discover the man is apparently some sort of anthropologist on his way to a conference. He is unable to contact the man, so he impersonates him at the conference. From there, things get progressively more odd, and even supernatural. A classic Gaiman sort of story.

Other People

An interesting short take on hell. After the physical tortures, the man experienced this:

Everything he had ever done that had been better left undone. Every lie he had told - told to himself, or told to others. Every little hurt, and all the great hurts. Each one was pulled out of him, detail by detail, inch by inch. The demon stripped away the cover of forgetfulness, stripped everything down to a truth, and it hurt more than anything.

And then, over and over again.

It was like peeling an onion. This time through his life he learned about consequences. He learned the results of things he had done; things he had been blind to as he did them; the ways he had hurt the world; the damage he had done to people he had never known, or met, or encountered. It was the hardest lesson yet.

There is a school of thought within Christianity that this is the process that one must undergo to become fit for heaven. We cannot enter as we are, with all our arrogance and pride - we must be purged in some way. My personal view is that many will choose to be annihilated rather than face this process.

Gaiman describes this as a Mobius story - and that is a great description.

Keepsakes and Treasures

This is a really dark story, about an orphan (or at least foundling) who gets involved in a particularly sick underworld. It has some pretty rough sexual content. The main characters of Smith and Mr. Alice also turn up in “The Monarch of the Glen,” which is kind of a short story sequel to American Gods.

Good Boys Deserve Favors

A short story about a brief childhood career as a double bass player. Or at least being a kid who carried a double bass around and tried not to make noise in the rests. Except for one magical improvised solo.

The Facts in the Case of the Departure of Miss Finch

Kind of a mystery ghost story.

Strange Little Girls

This is a collection of 12 short vignettes written to accompany Tori Amos’ album of the same name.

Harlequin Valentine

A story about Harlequin, the stock character from ancient drama.

The Problem of Susan

I had actually read this one previously. Gaiman takes on a seriously uncomfortable issue with The Chronicles of Narnia. C. S. Lewis seems to simply abandon Susan to a hellish fate, simply because she grows up and - it is strongly implied - becomes a sexual being, interested in boys and love and marriage. This really stuck in Gaiman’s craw, even though he loved the books as a kid. His response is both a, well, response, and a challenge in its own right. Very thought provoking.

How Do You Think It Feels?

Gaiman was asked to write a story for an anthology with gargoyles as a theme. Writing is a weird profession sometimes. This is a pretty sexual story, with an ambiguous ending.

Fifteen Painted Cards from a Vampire Tarot

If a vampire wrote vignettes for tarot cards, I guess. Honestly, my knowledge of Tarot is pretty non-existent, so I probably didn’t get most of the references.

Feeders and Eaters

This is a really creepy story about a flesh eating woman and the man devoted to her.

Diseasemaker’s Croup

A very short riff on snake oil “alternative medicine.” Humorous in the best Gaiman way.

In the End

A one-page imagining if the last book of the Bible was a mirror image of the first chapters of Genesis.

Goliath

Gaiman wrote this for the website of the soon-to-be-released film, The Matrix. It’s pretty matrix-y.

Pages From a Journal Found in a Shoebox Left Somewhere Between Tulsa, Oklahoma, and Louisville, Kentucky

The story is barely longer than the title. It is kind of a log of a search for a mysterious woman named “Scarlet.” Very atmospheric and vague, with no real resolution. Which is a classic modern short story. Also, another one written specifically for a Tori Amos related event. Apparently Gaiman and Amos are friends - which is one of those unexpected things you learn.

Inventing Aladdin

This one is a poem worth mentioning. It is a reference to The Arabian Nights, obviously. But it is also about Gaiman’s belief that stories, even ancient, retold stories, had their genesis in a real person.

The Monarch of the Glen

This is the one which is both a short story sequel to American Gods (which I haven’t read), and the return of Smith and Mr. Alice. It draws on the Beowulf story, but with a weird, modern, twist. Again, classic Gaiman, with its mix of legend, supernatural, and realistic.

One of the things I am struck with when it comes to Neil Gaiman is this: he has a someone disturbing knack for writing about the most horrible parts of human nature. I mean, he makes torture and cruelty come way too alive for comfort. But along with that comes an amazing sense of compassion - one that I find mostly lacking in the conservative/religious/uptight sorts that clutch their pearls about his sort of writing.

Just as an example, my Evangelical former tribe has been tying themselves in moral and ethical knots to try to explain why it is okay to take a racist and xenophobic approach to refugees. You know, things like separating families seeking asylum, putting kids in cages, and stripping the citizenship of people who did nothing wrong. In contrast, here is Gaiman on refugees. The simplicity of “it could be you” is basically a restatement of Christ’s commands. Do unto others. And yet, Gaiman, who isn’t “Christian” in the sense Evangelicals mean it, somehow manages to sound so much MORE like Christ than they do. Oh, and rather than xenophobic fear mongering and lies, he actually uses real facts. Why the F..K can’t Evangelicals show this kind of decency? I just don’t get it.

Anyway, this is an interesting book, with some worthwhile stories. Gaiman has an amazing imagination, his stories generally have something intriguing in them, and hey, my middle daughter loves them, and that is high praise indeed. My favorite still is The Graveyard Book - or maybe Good Omens, written with Terry Pratchett. But this one was good too.

Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

My kids love the Neil Gaiman we have listened to previously. Which is to say, my kids love creepy stories, and have a high tolerance for horror. Here are our previous Gaiman selections:

Coraline

Good Omens (with Terry Pratchett)

The Graveyard Book

M is for Magic

Odd And The Frost Giants

One thing I should mention at the outset about Neverwhere, is that, unlike the others, Neverwhere isn’t really a kids book. (Arguably, Good Omens isn’t either. But that book is less terrifying and more humorous, because Terry Pratchett…) That means that it contains some pretty scary and violent moments - little kids will probably have an issue here. And also a fair share of garden-variety vulgarity and profanity. Your approach to this sort of stuff with your kids may vary from mine. (For what it is worth, I am bothered much more by racial slurs, which you find readily in older literature - including children’s literature - than by crass references to bodily functions, extremely hot punishment, and how you get there.) There are also some non-graphic sexual references (the main character is definitely having sex with his fiancee.)

What Neverwhere is, however, is Gaiman’s first real novel (he started with graphic novels), which he based on a TV series he also wrote. The characters are the same, but the story is expanded. It is more or less in the horror genre, and certainly shows all the typical themes that Gaiman continues to work with. Realism with a supernatural element (not exactly magical realism, but a close cousin), lonely and isolated characters, a hidden world hiding in plain sight alongside the “real” one, and a generally Gothic and macabre vibe.

In an opening that O Henry would approve, young businessman Richard Mayhew is running late to a dinner with his fiancee and her famous boss, when a girl appears on the sidewalk, bleeding badly, and asking for help - and that the police not be called. To the horror and disapproval of his fiancee - and against his better judgment - he takes the girl, who calls herself “Door,” back to his apartment. Soon after, two rather Victorian gentlemen gangster sorts calling themselves Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar show up, and attempt to shake him down for the girl. And then things start to get really weird really fast.

First, Richard must summon a mysterious figure, the Marquis de Carabas, who takes Door with him as they both vanish. Then, Richard discovers that he apparently no longer exists. Nobody remembers him, and his flat is being rented to strangers. He has to find his way to “London Underground” to find Door and try to get his life back. Once there, he finds he is caught up in running from a plot to murder Door (having dispatched her family already), which appears to involve very powerful and mysterious forces. Richard, the Marquis, Door, and a badass female bodyguard, Hunter, set out on the quest for the truth and safety.

This being Gaiman, naturally, assassins figure prominently. And nobody is quite who they seem. Along the way, there are a bunch of memorable, fascinating characters that inhabit an equally imaginative world. Gaiman also combines, as usual, suspenseful plotting with good characterization (within the confines of the genre), and solid writing. There is plenty of social satire as well. The Western financial world gets skewered, as do upwardly mobile sorts who grasp at wealth and prestige. London Underground consists of all the people who fall between the cracks, and Gaiman makes them sympathetic and human - if thoroughly rough and tumble. Richard’s experience is that of falling through the cracks – becoming invisible to society. It happens to him – and could happen to us – more easily than we think.

This book is also a confirmation of the axiom that Neil Gaiman should always narrate his own audiobooks. His smooth and slightly sinister voice fits his writing perfectly.

As I noted above, unless you have kids like mine, probably be cautious. The violence is pretty nasty, the language might be an issue, and it is a scary book. On the other hand, for teens who like terror, Gaiman’s writing is above average, and his books have a certain moral heft to them which transcends the genres he writes in. We have really enjoyed them over the last few years. 

 Illustration by Chris Riddell. Richard and the Marquis

 Croup and Vandemar.

Odd And The Frost Giants by Neil Gaiman

Source of book: Audiobook from the library

This is a relatively short children’s book - about two hours on audiobook. As such, it relates a single incident, and packs a lot into a short space. Neil Gaiman wrote this book for World Book Day, and fits elements of the Norse myths into the story.

To summarize it, those hapless gods, Odin and Thor, hire a Frost Giant to build a wall around Asgard for them. As usual, the fee is exorbitant, and includes poor Freya, who always seems to be a required throw-in in these deals, being the most beautiful woman and all. Odin gets cold feet, Thor gets Loki to cheat the Frost Giant, Thor kills the Frost Giant, and a grudge match inevitably results. (If this reminds you at all of Das Rheingold, you are not imagining things.)

So, the brother of the deceased Frost Giant tricks Loki into giving him Thor’s hammer, thus taking control of Asgard. Loki, Thor, and Odin are exiled to the realm of the mortals in the form of a fox, bear, and eagle, respectively. It is at this point in the story that Odd, a crippled Viking boy, finds them. As Thor has gotten stuck by a tree, Odd takes pity and rescues him, eventually discovering their identities and setting off on a quest to reclaim Asgard.

Odd is a typical Gaiman hero: quiet, socially outcast, introverted, and without friends of the mortal variety. But he is thoughtful, and fearless because he has already faced his own worst case scenario. What is death after what he has been through? It is easy to see a relationship to Bod in The Graveyard Book. Even the name has some resemblance.

The story itself unfolds precisely as one would expect. That’s the comforting thing about myth, of course. The stories are often the same story, told differently. (After reading The Hero With A Thousand Faces, I can see the Monomyth elements easily in so many tales.) We already know that Odd is going to figure out some way of saving the day, and it will come via brains rather than brawn. (To quote The Sword and the Stone’s Merlin…) 

 Illustration by Brett Helquist

Without revealing exactly what happens, I do wish to comment on Gaiman’s conception of “magic.” In the legendary retelling of this story by Thor, it is clear that it will be “magic” that Odd uses. But it obviously isn’t in the classic sense. As Odd muses, his “magic” just consists in giving people permission to do what their better selves really want to do. This means giving up pride, “honor,” and toxic masculinity. It means making a rational decision about what is best even though one might lose face. But Odd also offers a way to save face to the Frost Giant. And that is the magic.

I find this fascinating, because a certain portion of my legal practice consists in exactly this. Bringing a case to a reasonable settlement really tends to involve those two things. Enabling people to take the sensible compromise, by helping them put aside wounded pride and the desire to “win.” And to make a proper show to the other side to help one’s client feel that they haven’t been “beaten.” As many a wise attorney will tell you, the very best settlements make each side feel they won, but these are very rare. If this kind of settlement were to happen, it would have before the sides lawyered up. The next best settlement is one both sides dislike equally. And in divorce cases, this is the most common result when the attorneys have done their jobs. This is the settlement that Odd negotiates. Enough to save face, while helping the Frost Giant to release what he really neither wants nor enjoys.

It’s kind of ironic that poor Loki, much maligned god, who is really the patron god of lawyers, isn’t the one to resolve the issue. But Odd himself takes that role as the advocate who brings the best kind of resolution.

Over the last year and a half, my kids have really taken to Neil Gaiman, and are a bit disappointed that we have nearly exhausted his kid-level books. They are macabre, thoughtful, and engrossing. This one is a worthy book, more short story than novel, and a good introduction both Gaiman and the Norse myths. 

As with all Gaiman books, this one should be read by the author. Fortunately, our audiobook was.

***

A number of years ago, the Bakersfield Symphony Orchestra did a concert contrasting the two greatest opera composers of the late 19th Century, Verdi and Wagner. One of the selections we performed was the final scene in Das Rheingold, the entrance of the gods into Valhalla (Asgard). Many of the ideas found in Odd And The Frost Giants are in this scene, from Wotan (Odin) and his single eye, the Rainbow Bridge, and Loge (Loki) with his wounded pride.

I still have nightmares about the endless pages of arpeggios from playing this -  The horns had fun, I’m sure - but I must admit, it is an amazing composition.

The Graveyard Book by Neil Gaiman

Source of book: Audiobook borrowed from the library

Poor Neil Gaiman must have had a lonely childhood. So far, in his kid books, the only friends for his protagonists end up being dead people. And if you count Good Omens, the part he wrote appears to pair up an angel and a demon as each other’s only friend.

The Graveyard Book is as creepy as Coraline, but in a different way. Both stories exist in a world where terror is an everyday occurrence, and malevolent but mysterious forces theaten. You can read my thoughts on Coraline here. 

I did not realize this when I listened to the book, but it appears (on further research) that Gaiman intended the book to be very much like The Jungle Books by Rudyard Kipling - only set in a graveyard, not the jungle. Looking back, this is very much how the book turned out, with some strong parallels with the original.

The basic idea is this: Nobody Owens is a boy who wanders from his birth family in the middle of the night to the nearby graveyard. While he is gone, a mysterious assassin, Jack, murders his family, and comes looking for him. The ghosts of the graveyard shelter him from Jack, saving his life. They then raise him, with help from Silas, who is “neither living nor dead.” It is never really clarified what Silas is, although he has a past as a very bad person who reformed, and doesn’t fit into the other categories of supernatural creatures.

Throughout the book, “Bod,” as he is nicknamed, grows up, and has a variety of adventures, culminating in the return of Jack and his secret society (“Jacks of All Trades”) to finish the job - and Bod. Each chapter is a fairly self-contained episode, and Bod ages about 2 years in between stories. This too mirrors the Mowgli stories in a way.

One of the closest parallels between The Jungle Books and The Graveyard Book is the episode where Bod is convinced to run away with the Ghouls, who resemble Kipling’s monkeys. He is rescued by his tutor, Miss Lupescu, who is a werewolf. She, naturally, resembles Kaa in this story.

An interesting facet of this book is the way that Gaiman weaves his themes into the fabric of the story. In Coraline, Gaiman misquotes G. K. Chesterton’s quote about how fairy stories do not tell children that there are dragons, but that dragons can be defeated. In The Graveyard Book, Bod must himself learn to defeat his own particular dragon. This theme of self-reliance and courage in facing one’s fears appears to be one of Gaiman’s favorite ideas.

On a different note, Gaiman also sneaks some history into the book. The graveyard is a very old one, and has now been turned into a preserve. Thus, all the ghosts are folks from the past, from the ancient pre-Celtic days to the 1800s. Their knowledge of the world remains the same as it was when they died, so developments in technology, science, and psychology remain mysteries to them. Silas, on the other hand, travels freely, and thus is able to provide the modern knowledge necessary.

Two incidents stood out in this regard. First is the fact that when Bod does (briefly) attend a public school, he finds himself correcting his teacher on historical points. After all, he actually knows what the people of the past believed and thought.

The second is even more interesting to me. As was common in the past, the graveyard was attached to a church. The church controlled who was buried and where. The graveyard proper was reserved for the “good” people. Suicides, criminals, prostitutes, and “witches” were buried in anonymous graves beyond the official limits.

This segregation remains among the ghosts, who disdain the “bad” people buried elsewhere. Bod eventually figures out that this distinction is ludicrous. As Silas explains, it isn’t that simple. One could be executed for stealing food, for example, and the suicides were generally deeply unhappy people, not evil ones.

In one of the great lines in the book, Silas explains that suicide happens when people are so unhappy that they decide to speed up their transition to another plane of existence, thinking they will be happier. Bod asks if they are happier. Silas replies that they usually were not, because they brought themselves to the new place. I think this is a great way of handling it. I grew up in a religious tradition that believed that suicides went to hell. As I grew older, I found I didn’t believe that, for a variety of reasons. (Not least of which is that I, like C. S. Lewis, do not believe in the traditional - that is, Greco-Roman mythology-influenced hell in the first place. This connection was recognized at least since the mid-1800s, by the way. And that whatever there is, it is locked on the inside.) In this case, Gaiman doesn’t encourage suicide - although he clearly understands it. Rather, he points out the obvious, that for the most part, it isn’t really a solution to anything. The rest of the book is such an affirmation of the value of living that it functions in that way to remind the reader to be both hopeful and active in seeking life.

As for the witch buried outside the graveyard, Gaiman has a few interesting points about her. Bod befriends her, and hears her story. It turns out that like most if not all of those burned at the stake for witchcraft, she was no real witch. At least until after her death, when a plague that she may or may not have called down kills her executioners. Rather, she is an attractive woman, who “bewitches” a man, and is thus considered dangerous.

Gaiman gets this right. Witches generally fell into two categories. The first is the old woman without family to defend - or as importantly, support - her. She is a “useless eater” as the Nazis would later say about another undesirable group, and nobody would avenge her death. Hence the stake.

The second category is the younger woman whose sexuality is viewed as a threat. Often, this would be an outspoken woman, who didn’t fit societal norms and gender roles. Thus, she was a natural and easy target.

There are many great ideas in this book, from the Ghouls already mentioned, to a being called the Sleer who protects the barrow of the Druid king. The Sleer is a parallel to the white cobra in “The King’s Ankus,” and has a similar ending, with the treasure killing those who covet it. I also laughed at the idea of the poet who wasn’t recognized during his lifetime, so wrote only for “posterity,” which seems to have failed to recognize him as well.

Gaiman has a dark and dry sense of humor, and this book, like his other one, isn’t exactly sunshine and rainbows. Fortunately, I have an appreciation for his style and humor. My kids are similar in that respect, enjoying both Gaiman and Wodehouse humor. My second daughter in particular has always had a fondness for the macabre, so darkness, dungeons, rats, and ghosts have thrilled her since she was a toddler. Even the younger kids have come around on scary stories. I have done some of my job as a parent, I guess.

This book, like Coraline, is not for everyone. If you like Poe, this is up your alley.

There are two editions with different illustrators. Each has his merits.

Brooding illustration by Dave McKean

Lighter line art (of the witch) by Chris Riddell

One final thing I should mention in connection with the audiobook. Gaiman reads his own stories - and does a fantastic job. His timing is perfect, and his diction is clear in a moving car, which isn’t a given.

There is one more reason to listen to the audiobook version. Gaiman partners with some interesting musicians for incidental music. Coraline has some creepy songs that are sung by The Gothic Arches. (See my review for a clip.) The Graveyard Book goes one better by enlisting Bela Fleck, banjo player and composer, to write a version of Camille Saint-Saens’ Danse Macabre for banjo and cello.

This is really an amazing idea, both in the abstract, and in the execution.

Here is a clip:

I have a special love for Danse Macabre. Any fan of old cartoons have heard it, of course. I had the opportunity to play the solo violin part back in my college days. Our conductor at Bakersfield College put together a Halloween concert. In addition to Danse Macabre, we did Mussorsky’s A Night On Bald Mountain (familiar to anyone who has seen Fantasia), Rachmaninoff’s Isle of the Dead (one of my favorite works, written in significant part in 5/4 time), and Charles Ives’ Halloween. Good times. Here is the original Danse Macabre.

For those who are curious, the E string on the violin is tuned down to an E flat, so that it makes a diminished 5th with the A string. Because we had a small orchestra, I used two violins so I could play the orchestra part when needed.

I also have to link some Bela Fleck. Before Chris Thile, before Mumford and Sons, Bela Fleck pioneered the fusion of bluegrass, jazz, and pop. Here is one of his tunes with the Flecktones.

Later, it was destined that Fleck would partner with Chris Thile. One of my favorite albums of all time is Thile’s Not All Who Wander Are Lost, which features Fleck on banjo along with some other incredible musicians. My favorite track, “Raining at Sunset” is worth looking up. Or just buy the album already and contribute to the support of a true genius musician. Here is another track, “Riddles in the Dark,” which re-imagines the battle between Bilbo Baggins and Gollum in the heart of the mountain as a repartee between mandolin and banjo.