Scrapheap of the Gods (American Gods - Neil Gaiman)

Member Name: RedBen

Product:	American Gods - Neil Gaiman
Date:	22/01/09 (132 review reads)
Rating:

Advantages: Excellent premise; thought-provoking themes; strong central characer

Disadvantages: Meandering narrative; unfocused; too long

Written by Neil Gaiman (Neverwhere, Sandman, Stardust) and first published in 2001, American Gods tells the story of Shadow, a quiet, taciturn man who, on his release from prison, finds the world - or at least his perception of it - irrevocably altered. Shadow's stay in prison is shortened by a few days when he learns that his wife has been killed in a car accident, one that has also claimed the life of his best friend.

Numbed by the news - throughout the book, no matter what the revelation, Shadow is not a man prone to hysteria - his return flight home is interrupted by the mysterious Mr Wednesday (those with some knowledge of the etymology of our weekdays will soon click), a career conman in need of an escort and bodyguard. Suddenly without wife or prospects (his deceased friend had work lined up for him), Shadow cedes to Wednesday's persistence, and the two begin a trans-American journey, the purpose of which isn't fully disclosed to Shadow until the book's closing stages.

What does become clear to Shadow is that his world is populated by discarded Gods, members of dispelled, ancient pantheons down on their luck and facing extinction from a new theology: one centred around wealth, economics and material goods. War is coming, and it has fallen upon Wednesday to rally the troops, whip the Old Gods in battle fervour, and destroy their increasingly dominant rivals.

The juxtaposition between Gaiman's outlandish plot and the earthy, matter-of-fact way in which he sets his scenes works well. There is irony in that the reader doesn't necessarily baulk at the idea of Gods roaming across America in cheap suits, but instead is more surprised at Shadow's ability not to be overwhelmed by such revelations. When long-dead television stars begin to communicate with him through his television, or when his deceased wife appears to him in increasingly putrefying form, or when Shadow plays a game of chequers for his life - no matter what the esoteric circumstance, Shadow remains relatively unperturbed.

The only exception to this is when Shadow learns his wife and friend were having an affair; that they died, in fact, halfway through an act of copulation. For all the miraculous events and disclosures that surround him, Shadow is most affected by his wife's betrayal, and this is utterly endearing - this victory of human emotion, of things that we can really feel, over the exaggerated and transient notion of belief in gods.

Perhaps this deadpan approach by Shadow is Gaiman's attempt to allow the reader to focus on other things: the characters of the Gods themselves, rather than on the fact they actually do exist; the geographical vistas of middle America; the thematic issue of theology and its inherent relationship to the human condition. A plot-twist later on in the story also explains Shadow's outlook.

The premise of this book is its strength: Gods mingling with humans, plotting like humans, rutting, drinking and fighting like humans. The actions of Wednesday and his supernatural colleagues, and the central notion behind American Gods, is that theology is a man-made object, something that we manifest, and that these manifestations rely on us as believers as much as, if not more than, them as deities. It's not a new idea, of course: the ancient Greek and Norse pantheons abound with human ideals and passtimes: war, adultery, betrayal. They were theological soap operas, and this book, in how its not-so-heavenly characters behave and the underlying reason for Wednesday's actions, is a strong reflection of that.

Furthermore, Gaiman's gods are erstaz, desperate beings, and all the more colourful for it. They are affected by alcoholism, apathy and depression, beaten down by a world that created them and then subsequently found it had no need for them. Again, Gaiman is emphasising the human condition of theology. Gods, he says, do exist, but only in the mind and mould of Man.

In its attempt to be everything - a character study, a meandering slice of Americana, and a twisting, plot-driven narrative - American Gods is an ambitious work, and, to my mind, overly so. Its only fault is, sadly, a serious one: it tries too hard, becoming a Jack of all trades and master of none. Thus the prose isn't breathtaking, the plot shimmers in and out of importance and the themes - as strong as they potentially are - become diluted.

I can't escape from the idea that American Gods needed a more stringent editor. At 630 pages the book is perhaps 200 too long, delving too deeply into a curious subplot whereby Shadow finds himself temporarily holed up in a sleepy town called Lakeside. This section does have relevance - we learn that Lakeside is an anachronism, a town of innocent charm maintained by horrifying sacrifice - but Gaiman labours the point too hard, its payoff disproportionate to the effort involved.

The fascinating premise and the themes raised by Gaiman do carry it through, but only just, and after racing out of the blocks it crosses the finish line tired and out of puff.

Summary: Failed to live up to its premise and promise