Neil Gaiman

[xela]

In 2000 I went to London for the first time, and after my conference was over stayed an extra week with my friends Liz & Eric. During that week, under Eric's enthusiastic guidance, I fell in love with the London Underground, and as I was packing, Eric turned me on to Neverwhere, Neil Gaiman's fantasy novel set largely in the Underground. Richard, the protagonist, has stumbled into this underground world, and the first authority he meets sets him on the road to meet someone who can help him get his life back. He's being guided by a teenage girl named Anaesthesia. We've just met her; we know that she knows the ropes down here, but really that's about it. They're taking a shortcut across London Above, and have paused to sit on a bench, until Richard is reminded that denizens of the underground world, of which he is now one, are invisible to those who live above. A drunken couple sit down on the bench and start making out.

"Come on," said Richard to Anaesthesia, feeling that the bench had started to become a less desirable neighborhood. They got up and walked away. Anaesthesia peered back, curiously, at the couple on the bench, who were gradually becoming more horizontal.

Richard said nothing. "Something wrong?" asked Anaesthesia.

"Only everything," said Richard. "Have you always lived down there?"

"Nah, I was born up here," she hesitated. "You don't want to hear about me." Richard realized, almost surprised, he really did.

"I really do."

She fingered the rough quartz beads that hung in a necklace around her neck, and she swallowed. "There was me and my mother and the twins..." she said, and then she stopped talking. Her mouth clamped shut.

"Go on," said Richard. "It's all right. Really it is. Honest."

The girl nodded. She took a deep breath, and then she began to talk, without looking at him as she talked, her eyes fixed on the ground ahead of her. "Well, my mother had me an' my sisters, but she got a bit funny in the head. One day I got home from school, and she was crying and crying, and she didn't have any clothes on, and she was breaking stuff. Plates and stuff. But she never hurt us. She never did. The lady from the social services came and took the twins away, an' I had to go and stay with my aunt. She was living with this man. I didn't like him. And when she was out of the house..." The girl paused; she was quiet for so long that Richard wondered if she had finished. Then she began once more, "Anyway. He used to hurt me. Do other stuff. In the end, I told my aunt, an' she started hitting me. Said I was lying. Said she'd have the police on me. But I wasn't lying. So I run away. It was on my birthday."

Of course my heart went out to her. I love this girl; I want her to win through, to marry the prince, to live happily ever after. Don't you?

What mastery. A world-class character sketch in 250 words.

Eighteen pages later, Gaiman kills her. I don't think I've ever seen an author do anything so ruthless. It was almost a physical blow when I read it. But now I understood something fundamental about the universe of this book: no-one is safe here. And nothing else but the wanton destruction of such a finely wrought character could have conveyed that so well. I was torn between despising Gaiman for that, and admiring him. Much as I admired his talent, I didn't read anything else of his for years; that shock may have been why.

A few months ago I stumbled onto it again and, having all but forgotten the plot, re-read it and was charmed all over again. This time I decided to read more.

Stardust is a sweet romantic fantasy — with, of course, a twist. A young man completely devoted to a girl who couldn't be less interested in him. Without even knowing she's doing it, she sends him off on an arduous quest, for a fallen star.

I adore this book, and fully expect to read it again with great pleasure in a few years. It might not be suitable for preteen children; other than that, I recommend it wholeheartedly.

I cried my eyes out at the end of Stardust, something no book has made me do since the first time I read King Lear. I think that may be an idiosyncratic reaction, though. I am pretty lonely these days, and have been feeling that hard the past few months, and was at a low point when I was reading that book. And at the end of Stardust, Star is left to carry on in the face of unimaginable lonliness.

Last week, in response to the desperate plea from its owner, I dropped by Pandemonium and stocked up. And found myself totally sucked in by Coraline (making me almost certainly the last person on coraline's flist to read it). It's a novella; a children's fantasy about a little girl and what she finds on the other side of a door that goes nowhere. I read about the first third of it as I normally read: A dozen or so pages at a time, then putting it down to do something else, and maybe reading a chapter of another book before picking it back up. And for the last two thirds, I did not put it down until I was done. I can't remember the last time I found a book that compelling; possibly not since I was a teenager. I hesitate to say this, because it could be taken as implying that Coraline is trite or cute in ways that it is not, but I find myself thinking of it as a Wizard of Oz for our time. It's a horror story; a genre I dislike and always have. But I think I could have read it as young as 9 or 10 without nightmares.

Currently I'm in the middle of Anansi Boys, and thus not in a position to say much about it. A sample: Two old ladies are talking. Mrs. Dunwiddy, whose kitchen they're in, has just asked a question, which Mrs. Higgler answers.

Mrs. Dunwiddy took a large handful of wet cornbread and rammed it into th turkey with a force that would have made the turkey's eyes water, if it still had any.

Okay, I couldn't even type without laughing. And yet, even though it's a throwaway, a gag, it does a brilliant job of moving the story forward.

In short, this guy can write. Read him, if you haven't. Read him some more if you have. I plan to.

Comments

[siderea]

making me almost certainly the last person on [info]coraline's flist to read it

Yeah, but it was close -- I read it about a month ago. :)

[siderea]

I don't think I've ever seen an author do anything so ruthless.

Er, if you're into that sort of ruthless (which I suspect you are not) I have recommendations.

[coraline]

yay!
you should read "american gods". i think you'd like it.

[motodraconis.livejournal.com]

I've seen the BBC televised version of Neverwhere.* I used to watch it fairly regularly, it's low budget being BBC made but not bad at all. Worth digging out to see.

I do however own my own copy of Stardust, I didn't enjoy the book much it has to be said, the male protagonist is rather unappealing to me, and as such, I just can't root for him at all. (Keeping Star chained, forcing her to travel with a broken leg.)

* One of my old housemates had a copy, and then my ex, so now I am copy-less. I always intended to read the book and my ex had a copy of that too, but I never got to read much of anything at all since my ex would always start to tantrum if I tried to read a book when he was in the house. (When I read, the whole world disappears, it's just me and the book. I rather think this is the whole point of reading a good book in the first place, but my ex couldn't bear this at all, and would find ways to make it impossible to let me be to read.)
This shocks me in hindsight!
Bah! I've woken up with a bad cold and I'm tetchy. Going back to bed now.

[aerynne.livejournal.com]

The book is so much better than the miniseries that there is no comparison. Not that the miniseries was bad, mind you--just not as good as the book.

I'm excited for the Stardust movie!

[yakshaver.livejournal.com]

No, ruthlessnes per se isn't something I'd expect to find very interesting. My main initial reaction, because one of the main aspects of me that's there when I'm reading is Alex-the-writer, was "I could never do that." To draw a character so lovingly, and then kill her to advance the plot — the idea gives me shivers.

[yakshaver.livejournal.com]

I actually have read both it and Good Omens, but not recently enough to be able to comment intelligently on them, so I didn't mention them in the post. I actually remember disliking Good Omens, deciding to keep going in the hope that it would redeem itself at the end — and not, in the end, feeling that it had.

I remember being a little annoyed by American Gods, but I don't remember why. Between your recommendation and how much I'm liking most everything else of his, I'm definitely going to give it another try at some point in the next year or so. I'll post about it when I do.

[siderea]

Yeah.... I wasn't referring to ruthlessness per se.

[yakshaver.livejournal.com]

Hope you got some rest and are feeling better.

... it's low budget being BBC made but not bad at all....

On this side of the pond, we call those BBC production values class.... ;^)

Thanks for mentioning it; I've added it to my netflix queue and will have a chance to form my own opinion soon enough.

As for Stardust, Star is far more interesting to me than ... what's-his-name, the male protagonist. But in his defense, it is his coming-of-age story. If he were a decent guy with mature good judgement at the beginning of the story — well, there wouldn't be much to tell, would there? He starts off with a shallow, superficial idea of what love is, and grows to know, and find that he has, the real thing. If he hadn't been a horse's ass to Star, he couldn't be redeemed. But until he gets there, he's pretty damned irritating.

I don't get your ex at all. One of the things I most treasure in a relationship is what I think of as 'time spent alone, together' — you reading your book, me reading mine, each taking sustenance from the other's presence without needing to be the center of the other's universe. Perhaps occasionally reading a passage aloud that will amuse the other, but for the most part just enjoying being alone ... together.