Myths old and new in fictions old and new
I must admit I'm starting to get quite anticipatory for Prometheus. At first I was spectical, because our man Ridley is a hit and miss kind of director: meaning that for every Blade Runner and Thelma and Louise, there's a G.I. Jane and Kingdom of Heaven. He always delivers on the visuals, and I happen to prefer Alien over James Cameron's Aliens, but as I said: it's a gamble. Though the trailer was admittedly very tasty. Then I read that Damon Lindelof wrote the script, and now I'm really intrigued. Speaking as someone who watched Lost all the way and for all the ups and downs never failed to find it interesting. (Well, except for the episode about the origin of Jack's tattoo in season 3.) (Sidenote: I always find it irritating when Lost is seen as J.J. Abrams' baby, because as far as I can tell, Abrams never had anything to do with it anymore after setting up the pilot and some initial few things, whereas Lindelof was the showrunner through out, so both credit and blame should be laid at his doorstep.) And Lindelof certainly can write mythic, mysterious and deliver interesting ensembles. As long as there's no love triangle involved, and he gets to play to his strengths (especially with ambiguous characters and ones that prove nice and kind by no means equal dull - hello, Hurley!
And speaking of the joys and terrors of anticipation, does anyone know whether there are any news on the proposed American Gods tv series? Because that will be to me what Game of Thrones is to, well, GoT fans. I recently reread the book, and decided that of Gaiman's non-comicbook writings, tv episodes excluded, I still love this novel best. The Graveyard Book immediately after, but American Gods first among the novels. Back in the day I came to it straight from Sandman, and I used to wonder whether that was the reason, because there are obvious world building similarities - the premise that all gods of every religion exist, came into being because of the faith of various people and fade away as the belief in them fades so they have to take up a variety of crumy (or not so crummy) jobs to still access emotions and survive, plus Gaiman's interpretation of various deities in Sandman (primarily Odin and Loki, but also Bastet on the Egyptian side) is very similar-down-to-identical to the one he gives in American Gods. And let me tell you, these are by far my favourite interpretations of said Norse deities, especially of Odin. (Back when I started to read Marvel comics, I felt terribly let down, which was fortunate because by the time Thor the film came along I had learned to completely dissassociate the Marvel characters from the myth characters and for the most part, certain issues aside, could enjoy the Marvel versions on their own merits without expecting them to be like the beings of Norse myths.) Mr. Wednesday is such a marvellous character/interpretation of Odin, manipulative, ambigous-to-downright-villainous and yet incredibly compelling, and when Shadow at the end after having figured out Wednesday's scheme(s) and what Wednesday did still admits he misses him, without the narrative excusing Wednesday, it captures the effect on this particular reader precisely.
But ten years later, and so many other books later, American Gods still hasn't dated for me. (IMO as always, you may feel differently.) And not because of the Sandman parallels. One feature unique to it and one of the reasons for me to love the book is the way it handles Laura and the Shadow and Laura relationship. Do we have a term for the opposite of "fridged"? You know, when a woman is killed right at the start of the story and you think it's a fridging to motivate a man, but then it turns out (because we're in the fantasy genre) this is just the start of her story? (Other examples would be Merlyn in American Gothic - her murder in the pilot allows her to go from traumatized helpless handicaped victim to powrful supernatural entity who is the only real and effective opposition to Lucas Buck through the series - or now Alex in Being Human.) Anyway, that what happens with Laura, who is killed right at the start of the book, and as it turns out this was deliberate fridging on a Watsonian level, as in, Odin and Loki needed Shadow unattached to a wife for their plan to work, and the traditional stakes are against her so a first time reader probably is bound to think she'll be revealed as a villain, for not only does she come back as a walking corpse but as it turns out she died in the process of cheating on her husband. But then as it turns out Laura instead acts as Shadow's protector, not because she feels repentant for her affair - the sexual infidelity is to Laura immaterial, and she's ruthlessly honest about this as she's about everything else -, simply because she loves him. If anyone has a damsel role through much of the book, he does. And until the recent Avengers with its Black Widow versus movie!Loki scene, Laura's biggest showdown near the end was my favourite example of someone (specifically a female someone) outsmarting and pwning a version of Loki at a point when he thinks he has outmanveuvred and used everyone else. Laura Moon is hardcore. Also dead when she's doing all this, and that's another aspect; Shadow starts out the novel shell-shocked and throughout works on his grief for Laura and adjustment to her new state. Gaiman is one of the few writers I know who while using all the trap doors of the genre - ghosts, vampires (though not in this novel), zombies, plain old resurrection - still manages never to avoid the emotional devastation of death, and that gives stories like this one their emotional reality.
The mixture of various mythologies from many nations with that arch-American genre, the road movie, is another enduring charm of the novel; and the way all the various "coming to America" stories bring their often only briefly featured characters to life has something very humane about it. What I mean: no faceless masses in this novel with its cast of thousands. And so many scenes that stay with you. Sam's "I believe..." outburst is a rethorical tour de force and still gets much quoted, but for me a more standout moment is when Shadow confronts Hinzelmann, and both he and the readers are at their maximal infuriated with Hinzelmann (btw, if you're German that name is a dead givaway from the get go) who took the life of a child each year... and then Hinzelmann, very briefly, shows Shadow his original self, a small child sacrificed by a tribe to become their god. And that's such a Gaiman moment - Shadow sees the child Hinzelmann was and is full of compassion for that child, but at the same time, it doesn't change anything or excuse anything about the children who are dying in tribute annually now. One does not negate the other. But both are true. Or the very end, when Shadow does his coin trick for the Icelandic incarnation of Odin; it's a quiet epilogue scene, nothing much happens in terms of drama, and yet without it, the book would be less and incomplete.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/782457.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.
And speaking of the joys and terrors of anticipation, does anyone know whether there are any news on the proposed American Gods tv series? Because that will be to me what Game of Thrones is to, well, GoT fans. I recently reread the book, and decided that of Gaiman's non-comicbook writings, tv episodes excluded, I still love this novel best. The Graveyard Book immediately after, but American Gods first among the novels. Back in the day I came to it straight from Sandman, and I used to wonder whether that was the reason, because there are obvious world building similarities - the premise that all gods of every religion exist, came into being because of the faith of various people and fade away as the belief in them fades so they have to take up a variety of crumy (or not so crummy) jobs to still access emotions and survive, plus Gaiman's interpretation of various deities in Sandman (primarily Odin and Loki, but also Bastet on the Egyptian side) is very similar-down-to-identical to the one he gives in American Gods. And let me tell you, these are by far my favourite interpretations of said Norse deities, especially of Odin. (Back when I started to read Marvel comics, I felt terribly let down, which was fortunate because by the time Thor the film came along I had learned to completely dissassociate the Marvel characters from the myth characters and for the most part, certain issues aside, could enjoy the Marvel versions on their own merits without expecting them to be like the beings of Norse myths.) Mr. Wednesday is such a marvellous character/interpretation of Odin, manipulative, ambigous-to-downright-villainous and yet incredibly compelling, and when Shadow at the end after having figured out Wednesday's scheme(s) and what Wednesday did still admits he misses him, without the narrative excusing Wednesday, it captures the effect on this particular reader precisely.
But ten years later, and so many other books later, American Gods still hasn't dated for me. (IMO as always, you may feel differently.) And not because of the Sandman parallels. One feature unique to it and one of the reasons for me to love the book is the way it handles Laura and the Shadow and Laura relationship. Do we have a term for the opposite of "fridged"? You know, when a woman is killed right at the start of the story and you think it's a fridging to motivate a man, but then it turns out (because we're in the fantasy genre) this is just the start of her story? (Other examples would be Merlyn in American Gothic - her murder in the pilot allows her to go from traumatized helpless handicaped victim to powrful supernatural entity who is the only real and effective opposition to Lucas Buck through the series - or now Alex in Being Human.) Anyway, that what happens with Laura, who is killed right at the start of the book, and as it turns out this was deliberate fridging on a Watsonian level, as in, Odin and Loki needed Shadow unattached to a wife for their plan to work, and the traditional stakes are against her so a first time reader probably is bound to think she'll be revealed as a villain, for not only does she come back as a walking corpse but as it turns out she died in the process of cheating on her husband. But then as it turns out Laura instead acts as Shadow's protector, not because she feels repentant for her affair - the sexual infidelity is to Laura immaterial, and she's ruthlessly honest about this as she's about everything else -, simply because she loves him. If anyone has a damsel role through much of the book, he does. And until the recent Avengers with its Black Widow versus movie!Loki scene, Laura's biggest showdown near the end was my favourite example of someone (specifically a female someone) outsmarting and pwning a version of Loki at a point when he thinks he has outmanveuvred and used everyone else. Laura Moon is hardcore. Also dead when she's doing all this, and that's another aspect; Shadow starts out the novel shell-shocked and throughout works on his grief for Laura and adjustment to her new state. Gaiman is one of the few writers I know who while using all the trap doors of the genre - ghosts, vampires (though not in this novel), zombies, plain old resurrection - still manages never to avoid the emotional devastation of death, and that gives stories like this one their emotional reality.
The mixture of various mythologies from many nations with that arch-American genre, the road movie, is another enduring charm of the novel; and the way all the various "coming to America" stories bring their often only briefly featured characters to life has something very humane about it. What I mean: no faceless masses in this novel with its cast of thousands. And so many scenes that stay with you. Sam's "I believe..." outburst is a rethorical tour de force and still gets much quoted, but for me a more standout moment is when Shadow confronts Hinzelmann, and both he and the readers are at their maximal infuriated with Hinzelmann (btw, if you're German that name is a dead givaway from the get go) who took the life of a child each year... and then Hinzelmann, very briefly, shows Shadow his original self, a small child sacrificed by a tribe to become their god. And that's such a Gaiman moment - Shadow sees the child Hinzelmann was and is full of compassion for that child, but at the same time, it doesn't change anything or excuse anything about the children who are dying in tribute annually now. One does not negate the other. But both are true. Or the very end, when Shadow does his coin trick for the Icelandic incarnation of Odin; it's a quiet epilogue scene, nothing much happens in terms of drama, and yet without it, the book would be less and incomplete.
This entry was originally posted at http://selenak.dreamwidth.org/782457.html. Comment there or here, as you wish.