American Gods

I remembered raving and raving about this book back in the day, reading it long before I read his Sandman and going... wow. :) And very wow.

Up to that point, we hadn't had much of the god-punk genre. I like to believe that Gaiman was the one that really popularized the whole notion and ever since, we've had wonderful, wonderful examples filling the market. Usually UF, quite a bit of other fantasy as well, and above all, our imaginations.

We love gods. We love stories of gods. We especially love it when we bring them right to our doorstep and give them humanity and then change us into something timeless and full of wonder and even a really huge dose of skepticism.

My second read of this book falls into that second category.

I've been all over the fantasy field searching for the same feeling I got from American Gods and I've found many great examples. Some, not as wild or deeply read, some deeply read but more humorous, others verging off into the straight creative realm that only shadows the gods we know from our own mythologies.

In the end, though, none quite have the rambling feel of discovery upon discovery, the search for self and identity, as this one.

The whole con-artist angle is was still as great as I remember, of course, and what a mind-job that was, but even after the main action was ended, Shadow still went on, tying up loose ends and going the route of discovery through the other main mystery.

What is it to be a god? It's more and much, much less than being a mortal. That's what I mean by skepticism. No matter how much power you think you have, it's nothing before a good con man. Or the idea of peace. There are always two sides to a coin. Isn't that cool?

Reflections and reflections and reflections. Of course, this novel is full of great characters and story, even better reveals and discoveries, but to me, the best part of this latest read has got to be its universality. :)

n  n

My literary promiscuity being what it is, I have read and loved a lot of novels in many different genres. However, among the beau coup books that I have loved long time there are a select few that hold a special, hallowed place in my pantheon of favorites…American Gods is one of these elite.

Gaiman’s writing is both subdued and poetic. It is deeply emotional, but without a hint of melodrama. His descriptions are elaborate yet not drawn out. He tells a huge, complex, eternal story, one small tale at a time. I don’t know how else to say it, in this book Neil Gaiman took story telling and made it his bitch.

Therefore, upon learning that I had the opportunity to read Neil Gaiman’s preferred and expanded version of AG containing an additional 12000 words, my reaction is what you might expect. I exploded into tears of ecstasy, lost my bowels and wept uncontrollably for well over an hour. This made for a particularly awkward moment at the book store but at least I was prepared…
n  n
Later, when I was calmed down, cleaned up and baby powdered, I sat down and tore through this over the weekend.

Since this is the 10th anniversary edition of this modern fantasy classic, I am going to assume that a fair number of you reading this are at least familiar with the story. However, I will still avoid major spoilers in this review, except for disclosing (1) the identity of Wednesday and (2) the basic plot. Both of these things are revealed pretty early in the book so I don’t think I’m story flashing any of you with this information. I just think it is difficult to explain the novel without these two nuggets of bookformation.

Therefore, for those of you that don’t want any spoilers, you may want to look away now…

….for everyone else, let’s talk AMERICAN GODS….and English gods…and Irish gods…and Norse/Scandinavian gods…German and Russian gods…and Egyptian gods…and Greek gods (plus those “FUCKING Albanian” gods)…and Indian, Hindu and Japanese gods…and Hungarian gods…and Babylonian and Persian gods…and Native American gods…and Voodoo gods…and African gods….and even “forgotten” gods...plus all manner of dwarf, sprite, imp, giant, kobold, vampire, mythological beast, djinn, witch…and one very large and mysterious SHADOW!! Just listing the countries represented in this book makes me smile and break out in goose zits.

THE TALE OF AMERICAN GODS

So our guide throughout the story is Shadow. Shadow’s a big, soft spoken, even tempered bad-ass, ex-con whose life is shattered by the tragic death of his wife in a car accident (there is more to it than that, but, you know, spoilers and such). While reeling from the aftermath of his loss, Shadow is approached by smooth-talking and mysterious grifter named Mr. Wednesday. [HERE COMES MINOR SPOILER #1].

Turns out, Wednesday is actually a manifestation of Odin, ruler of the Norse Gods, and king of all things Asgardian.
n  n
Why you ask is the “AllFather,” the god of war, wisdom, poetry and magic scraping his way through life as an aging con man? Ah….that brings us to the heart and soul of the story.

You see gods are sustained and kept strong, according to the novel, by people’s worship and their belief in them. Thus, when the ancient Norsemen came to America, they brought belief in their gods with them. When they made sacrifices to Odin, Thor and the rest of the Norse gods, it made them strong and powerful. Conversely, as the people forgot about the gods and stopped telling their tales and making offerings to them, their power waned, until now at the beginning of the 21st century in America, Odin’s godly “vigor” is all but lost.

Meanwhile, the “gods” of the 21st century have grown strong and powerful. These new gods of Media, Technology, Internet, Electricity, Highways, Drugs, etc. are young, brash and dripping with vitality due to the worship and adoration they receive from you and me. Now, these godly young turkers and looking to destroy Odin and his ilk forever and claim supremacy over all of godness.

A war is coming…sweet!!!

Realizing the powerful of the 21st century gods, Odin is on recruiting mission to gather up the old gods and get them to sack up in order to avoid being slaughtered at the hands of the upstarts. He hires Shadow to be a glorified errand boy at $500 bucks a week and to accompany him as he travels America (and places in between) trying to rally his gang of gods to fight in the coming battle.

From a broad brush perspective, that is really the frame for this novel. However, as with all great art, the beauty of this story is in the details, the aspects, the shadings, the nuances. Odin’s mission acts as a terrific catalyst for Gaiman to explore the history of America, his great love of mythology and the enormous power of belief.

n   ‘This is the only country in the world,’ said Wednesday, into the stillness, ‘that worries about what it is….The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are.’n

As with many of my favorite books, this is a “journey” story and not a “destination” story. Thus, if you’re someone who doesn’t like tangents, flashbacks, veer offs or segues in your plot and are constantly hoping to straight line towards the conclusion, than this book might frustrate you enough to cause hives. This is a beautiful, elegant, but long and meandering journey through the heart and soul of America full of rich and detailed landscapes, historical flashbacks, memorable characters and mythological anecdotes.

Now, despite the novel taking its sweet, leisurely time sauntering towards the end, when it finally gets there, it is arguably my favorite 100 pages of any book EVER. In fact, the climax is so amazingly good that is it likely to cause one…so be prepared
n  n

Of course, I am talking about the final dust up between the old and the new. This segment is filled with more gods and legendary creatures than I have ever seen assembled in one story (if you are a South Park fan, think Imagination Land and you will have an idea of the kind a concentrated star power I mean).

n  There's never been a true war that wasn't fought between two sets of people who were certain they were in the right. The really dangerous people believe they are doing whatever they are doing solely and only because it is without question the right thing to do. And that is what makes them dangerous.n

ADDITIONS TO THE PREFERRED TEXT

For those of you that have read the original and are wondering whether this expanded edition is worth your time, I say yes…with a caveat. I don’t see a need to go rush out and read this if you have just finished the original version of American Gods. The story is basically the same and the added text is not so extensive that they change the essence of the novel. However, it you are thinking of a re-read or have never read the story before, I would certainly recommend this edition as I think it provides some additional insight and clarifications that are interesting and worthwhile. Plus, this expanded version also includes a very neat “apocryphal” segment in the afterward showing Shadow meeting up with Jesus that I thought was interesting.

Overall, I love this book. I have now read it three times (something I do not generally do with books) and I am fairly certain that a fourth time is in my future. If you love mythology, it is hard for me to imagine you not loving this book. One thing I would recommend is that you have handy either your own mythology guide or else a link to this website that lists all of the gods appearing in the novel. http://frowl.org/gods/gods.html#odin

I think it enhances the experience of the story significantly being able to match up the people encountered in the book with their mythological persona. 6.0 stars. HIGHEST POSSIBLE RECOMMENDATION!!

P.S. BONUE QUOTE

I couldn’t find a way to work this in above, but it is one of my favorite quotes from the book, so I wanted to share it:

n   God does not play dice with the universe; He plays an ineffable game of His own devising, which might be compared, from the perspective of the players, to being involved in an obscure and complex version of poker in a pitch-dark room, with blank cards, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won’t tell you the rules, and who smiles all the time.n

Long ago I've watched the TV adaptation of this book, but didn't finished it. So I've decided to read the book instead. Cos books usually better than their adaptations. It was a mistake. The novel turned out to be even more boring (TV series at least had some hypnotizing dark atmosphere). The plot is tedious and predictable, characters are annoying and repulsive. Although t has some interesting stuff about immigration and American identity, it wasn't enough to make the book exiting.

Interesting. It appears that this book that I reviewed back around 2011 was deleted off my shelf and readded in 2017 - but definitely not by me. What makes me furious is that it erased the entire long comment thread for this review.

Conversations with friends are NOT replaceable.

But at least it prompted me to start the long-overdue re-read.

—————————
n  2020 re-reading:n

This book is long and epic. It slowly meanders through strange places and events, with nothing coming together to form a coherent picture for a while, almost frustratingly so — until the last quarter of the story where everything crashes together with a vengeance, and the whole emerges from the pieces, and everything falls into place and makes you see that it was all worth it to finally get here.

n  “What I'm trying to say is that America is like that. It's not good growing country for gods. They don't grow well here. They're like avocados trying to grow in wild rice country.”n

What strikes me now is that I completely forgot how strangely detached Gaiman’s narration is in this book. It adds a subtle layer of unreality - like it’s almost a strange dream where you start to realize you’re dreaming and decide to just roll with the punches because you can’t wake up. Shadow — our eyes into this world — is so strangely even-keeled and unperturbed by anything around him; it’s like he is trudging through a fog. It’s like he’s not wholly there, like he’s detached from this world, like he is like his name — just a shadow. And that’s of course deliberate:

n  “You're not dead," she said. "But I'm not sure that you're alive, either. Not really […] It's like there isn't anyone there. You know? You're like this big, solid, man-shaped hole in the world.”n

And it’s in the end, in the last quarter, when this detachment finally cracks — and the book springs to life.

n

Well-done.

Frustrating in places, yes — but trust this story, roll with its punches and let it take you where it wants to take you — because ultimately it knows exactly where it’s going, and it is so worth it.

n  “You know,” he said, “I think I would rather be a man than a god. We don't need anyone to believe in us. We just keep going anyhow. It's what we do.”n

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n  Old review from 2011:n

Neil Gaiman must have British gonads of titanium to write a huge sprawling epic story about the nature of American belief. It's a gamble that worked perfectly - since, as he said, "Nobody's American [...] Not originally. That's my point." ¹

¹ Well, except Native Americans, of course.

n  n

"It's a god-eat-god world." This quote by Sir Terry Pratchett, another amazing British writer, perfectly summarizes the surface plot of the intimidating bulk of American Gods.

"It's what people do. They believe, and then they do not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjuration. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe; and it is that rock solid belief, that makes things happen. "

American Gods is Gaiman's ode to America, the land which has become a melting pot to more than just people. It also took in the beliefs they willingly or not brought with them to the New World, embraced them, changed them, allowed some to flourish and others to nearly wither away. It pitted the old gods not only against each other in the endless battle for survival, but also against the new deities of consumerism and technology for the precious belief that keeps them going. To quote Sir Pratchett again, "You need to believe in things that aren't true. How else can they become?".

"Gods die. And when they truly die they are unmourned and unremembered. Ideas are more difficult to kill than people, but they can be killed, in the end."

n

But the squabble among the old and new gods is just the surface. The heart of Gaiman's novel lies in portrayal - through seemingly unconnected interludes and sketches - of the people who brought the legends to this land, brought them among blood and loss and sorrow and heartbreak, of the people now who live in the this patchwork country that made a whole out of many little bits, of their origins and pasts, and of the soul of present-day America, the glue that holds it together.

"There was a girl, and her uncle sold her. Put like that it seems so simple."

And to top it all off, we are treated to the portrait of a seemingly idyllic, very Stephen King-esque small American town of Lakeside, hiding its own dark deep secret. Lakeside, the quintessential American small town, the stuff of legends, as one may say. Terrifying legends, indeed.

Don't be fooled into thinking the ex-con Shadow working for a mysterious Mr. Wednesday (whose real identity is not that hard to spot almost immediately) is the protagonist. No, Shadow feels flat and underdeveloped simply because he is just our binoculars into the vast landscape of American mythology, this world of belief and legends.

"What should I believe? thought Shadow, and the voice came back to him from somewhere deep beneath the world, in a bass rumble: Believe everything."

The imagery that Gaiman creates is stunning. He paints a vivid picture with confident brush strokes, creating an unforgettable literary landscape. And he takes a gamble with the storyline and the plotting as well. Do not look for exciting battles and confrontations, for non-stop action or fast-moving plot. This is the book unfolding slowly and finding its depth in the side stories and interludes that are there not to move the plot forward in the traditional sense but to give an extra glimpse, an extra dimension to the unfolding epic picture.

Love it for the unforgettable, fascinating and fully immersive experience. Mr. Gaiman, if you want a title of an honorary American, well - here it is.

"What I say is, a town isn't a town without a bookstore. It may call itself a town, but unless it's got a bookstore it knows it's not fooling a soul."

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Also posted on my blog.

Fantasy meets action packed thriller waltzes with Ancient and Modern mythology!

A masterpiece from my all time favorite author!
I loved the book! I loved the series that I highly recommend you to watch: for the love of Ian McShane who is the best choice to play mysterious Mr. Wednesday!

Giving my 5 gazillion stars and moving to the next masterpieces of the author!

Being the cheapskate that I am, I picked this up for nix! Well, almost. I swapped it for something in the many neighbourhood libraries I wander past in my daily walks that I do in my never-ending attempt to live for ever and become a god.
(Is Meili the god of walking? Walking is after all a form of travel. Is walking my Ambrosia?)

So this sat on my TBR shelf for what seemed an eternity (Aion is the god of eternity and also an album by the wonderful for all eternity band Dead Can Dance)

Until a young lass told me about a TV series called by the same name that she had watched an episode or two of.
(The modern god for all things media is in fact Media in American Gods, but in Australia the modern media god is in fact a US citizen called Rupert Murdoch who seems to be an immortal of some kind or other)

The young lass I made loan to was very keen on what she had been reading as she gave me periodical updates but made a complete stop at Chapter Eleven as she was off to get married.
(Parvati came to mind)

Brightly, I said I would read it and then hand it back to her after I had finished and she had come back from her honeymoon.
(May Anjea have been, or be kind to the delightful young lass)

Well, here I am writing a review of this rather good book.
(Is there a god of book reviewers? Troth maybe?)

And I enjoyed this.
(By Hedone I enjoyed it a hel of a lot and was that syncretic?)

There are now 826,000 plus ratings and 41,000 plus reviews on this here Goodreads so there is not much I can say about it.
(Seshat would be proud of those numbers.)

So I add nothing other than just don’t take it all too seriously, as it is fantasy after all.
(Roger Zelazny is the American god of fantasy, Neil Gaimen has to agree)

Recommended to those of us that worship Anulap

For this and more of my reviews, as well as my friend Petrik's reviews, check out my new blog, Novel Notions.

Mythology has always entranced me. Greek or Egyptian, Norse or Celtic, any myth I’ve ever come across has interested me, especially considering what each myth says about the culture it stems from and how said culture sees the world. Myths are man’s way of explaining the world and its phenomena to himself. How the world was created, why there are droughts and floods, how the tiger got its stripes or the elephant its trunk, are all things that man has attempted to explain through myths.

We in America have Native American mythology in our background, but we ran it out and confined it to reservations with its people, relegating that portion of our nation’s heritage to the shadows. We have a bit of folklore, the likes of Paul Bunyan and Pecos Bill and Calamity Jane, but we as a nation always viewed such folklore merely as stories for amusement, never as truth. Because of this view, our national “mythology” never established itself in our collective consciousness or gained any kind of philosophical power.

Does that mean that America is devoid of mythology? Not in the least. As with the rest of our cultural identity, we have borrowed and stolen gods and myths and legends from a plethora of other nations. When immigrants came, they brought with them their pantheons. And that is what Gaiman’s novel is about: the insane melting pot that is the USA. Not only did people bring with them their old gods, America created her own gods, gods of enterprise and progress and entertainment.

I once heard about a man from India who was staying at the home of some American friends. He told them their home was beautiful, but that he didn’t realize that they worshipped television. The family sputtered in confusion, asking what on earth he meant by that statement. “Well, in India,” he said, “our shrine is the focal point of our common area, as your television is here.” I can totally understand his reasoning. We do seem like a people who worships entertainment, which Gaiman addresses in his book.

This is the story of Shadow, a man fresh out of prison. It’s the story of the old gods brought over to this country from their homelands, gods who have been mostly forgotten and live an impoverished existence compared to the lives they once had, gods who are starving for worship. It’s the story of the new gods, gods of technology and television and gambling, gods whose reign is new and unsteady, gods who worry about being usurped by the old guard. It’s the story of magicians and con artists, and those who aren’t sure which camp they fall into. It’s the story of America, her underbelly and lost highways and gaudy tourist traps. It’s a story told and told well by a British transplant on American soil, who worried that people would ask him how he dared to write such a story when he isn’t American.

American Gods is a strange book, with large chunks of surrealism dotting its landscape like mesas in a desert. This surrealism is a hallmark of Gaiman’s work, and if the main catalyst for both the love and the loathing that his work inspires. For some, this makes the story impossible to relate to, and thus can never connect with Gaiman’s work in any satisfying way. For others, others like myself, it’s exactly what keeps drawing us back to Gaiman’s stories.

Our main character, Shadow, develops little because he basically lets himself be led through the events of the novel by others. That’s just who he is, though, so it worked. None of the characters felt very real, but they weren’t meant to. What felt the most real was America herself. The wonky roadside attractions were based on reality. America used to be littered with them, things like the world’s largest ball of twine and a version of Stonehenge made from graffitied Cadillacs. (Yes, that’s really a thing. I’m not making it up!)

I also know of no other country with such a propensity for road trips. As soon as cars became a luxury more attainable for the population at large, road trips became a national pastime. With the inception of interstates and frequent flyer miles, a lot of the roadside attractions and tourist traps that had been so popular in the 50s and 60s began to flounder and fade along with the highways that led to them. Route 66 is now a ghost road, but it was once the major artery in our nation’s heart. Gaiman does a great job of capturing the soul of road trips, as well as the fading quality of them. He shows America in all her weird, wide, wild beauty, and I love him for it. He dared to write this story because America welcomed him, and his culture was already here waiting for him. Anyone can be at home here, because everyone has brought their home with them. Our identity is comprised of all identities, and that’s what makes America special.

I understand why American Gods is a crossover classic for fantasy and fiction lovers: there are multiple layers to unravel, threads to pull, ideas to chew on, oddities to marvel at. But this read for me was one where some of the parts are better than the sum of the parts, and while I intellectually liked the top macro layer (old gods versus new gods, how we as humans define ourselves and our reality and what takes us away from that realization and awareness) and I enjoyed some of the micro layers (a lot of the little anecdotes in between the narrative chapters were intriguing and charming and fresh), the main story for me lacked action, urgency, and emotional depth. It's a solid 3 star rating from me: I liked it and am happy to have finally read a Neil Gaiman book, but it was somewhat underwhelming and less cohesive than I might have liked.

I preferred many of the side stories and ancillary characters to the focal points of the main narrative, whose personalities ranged from benignly boring (Shadow) to irritatingly enigmatic (Mr. Wednesday). Perhaps, even if I like my protagonists in shades of gray as well as black and white, I prefer great writing, interesting ideas AND action, and here though the ideas came fast and furious, not enough of them coalesced into real action and plot development for my taste. It's a book that's hard to pin down: road trip, heroic epic, little short stories, a general philosophizing about the merits and demerits about the myth of America and the American way. Its meandering nature means that one can easily get lost in the bombardment of content, which can be quite fun, but some of these brief trips into other tales were more tantalizing than the main yarn. It's not uninteresting, but I was occasionally wearied by yet another motel scene, yet another bizarre interaction with a New God, yet another person remarking on Shadow's size. And though the storytelling and structure didn't hint at a climactic conclusion, the way the plot unfolded and hinted at a war between the gods, I did expect a greater, larger showdown in the book's final act, and was mildly let down by what and how it came to pass.

But there's also so much I did enjoy: Mr. Ibis and Jacquel's funeral parlor and the weighing of souls, the tale of Agasu and Wututu, Mr. Nancy, the tale of Essie Tregowan, the town of Lakeside and its unspoken deal with "the devil" to ensure peace and prosperity. And there are great ideas I was intellectually thrilled by, like:

n  n    Fiction allows us to slide into these other heads, these other places, and look out through other eyes. And then in the tale we stop before we die, or we die vicariously and unharmed, and in the world beyond the tale we turn the page or close the book, and we resume our lives.
A life, which is, like any other, unlike any other.n  n

and

n  n    "This is the only country in the world," said Wednesday, into the stillness, "that worries about what it is."
"What?"
"The rest of them know what they are. No one ever needs to go searching for the heart of Norway. Or looks for the soul of Mozambique. They know what they are."n  n

and

n  n    People believe, thought Shadow. It's what people do. They believe. And then they will not take responsibility for their beliefs; they conjure things, and do not trust the conjurations. People populate the darkness; with ghosts, with gods, with electrons, with tales. People imagine, and people believe: and it is that belief, that rock-solid belief, that makes things happen.n  n

Overall, this is a fascinatingly constructed group of tales and has a wealth of ideas and anecdotes that made for a solid reading experience. But the main plot and characters were not quite as strong to sustain my engaged interest throughout, and I ultimately admired more than enjoyed this. experience. I am happy to have read this, but I would not throw over my old gods of beloved literary fantasy novels to worship at the altar of American Gods, though I can believe in its charms and powers for other readers.