Books tend to get pigeonholed
into genres. This is convenient, because most bookshops shelve books by genre,
and marketing a book to a ‘genre’ is presumably easier and cheaper for the
publisher. This is also why certain ‘genre’ authors struggle to break out of
their perceived forte, sometimes resorting to measures as extreme as writing
under a completely different name for a different genre. So how, then, do you
approach a book that has won awards in more than one genre? Indeed, one that
was originally published over a decade ago, became wildly successful and was
key in propelling its author to levels of fame normally reserved for musicians,
actors and the like? If an old adage is to be believed, extremely carefully.
But hey, were would we be if one
started following each adage, as it were, religiously?
Although I am normally quite wary
of award winning books, this is one I picked up, despite its intimidating size
(600+ pages) largely on a whim, and then read, breathlessly, in a span of 12
hours over the course of a long haul flight. I am not a “genre” reader, and
didn’t really know much about the story before I began (other than that the
book has an almost fanatical cult following). As a result, I didn’t have many
expectations. I have found that this is often a good way to approach a book, as
it leads to less frustration and disappointment.
Once you get past the labels that
people have tried to place on it, and the genres that it has been pigeon-holed
into (with varying degrees of success), “American Gods” is, at heart, a work of
magical realism. Gods exist, and walk among us, in human form. They feed on
belief and, if people stop believing in them, they wither and ultimately die. As
people start to worship at the altar of media, technology and the like, the
power of the old Gods is starting to wane, and there is a war brewing between
the old order and the new.
Into this conflict steps Shadow,
an ex-convict whom circumstances have cast adrift into the world, and who is
approached by the mysterious Mr Wednesday to be his companion on a journey
across America, as he tries to unite the Old Gods for the coming conflict. On
their journey, Shadow and Wednesday encounter the old Gods and the new, as well
as a supporting cast as varied as the landscape they traverse, the landscape in
question being America. Not necessarily the place, but the idea. It is also a
major character in the book in its own right, in many ways, as Shadow and Mr
Wednesday traverse the length and breadth of the nation, finding Gods in the
unlikeliest of places (which is interesting conceptually since, from a
theological point of view, God is everywhere).
Shadow is the emotional center of
the story, and the story is his to tell; following, barring the odd segue, his
journey through this fantastical landscape, where reality, dreamscapes and
alternate universes flow in tandem, bumping together and shifting Shadow from
one dimension to another in disorienting fashion. In this shifting universe,
Shadow seems sometimes to be unreasonably detached from the events around him,
even as they become increasingly improbable. However, as the emotional
centerpiece of a shifting universe, the bedrock of certainty helps make his character
even more sympathetic.
There is clearly more to Mr
Wednesday than meets the eye; the other old Gods clearly see him as untrustworthy
and a rogue. His need for Shadow as a companion isn’t immediately clear; perhaps
his unflappability is what makes him useful. Certainly, Shadow’s mortal nature
grants him a degree of free will; perhaps Wednesday is looking to indoctrinate
at least one believer in a land where, it seems, he has been almost entirely
forgotten, save as a supporting character in the odd Hollywood movie. He asks,
carefully masking his desperation, whether Shadow will ‘believe in him’ more
than once. Or, perhaps, as one of the oldest con-men of them all, he is simply
looking for an accomplice to play off, as he pulls off a series of cons to
finance his journey.
The idea of Gods, who are often
antagonists by default, having to band together to defeat an existential threat
to them all, is handled extremely effectively, by virtue of the human traits
they each display. The old Gods have fallen on hard times, and do what they can
to survive in modern America. Some stick to their traditional trades, becoming
funeral directors and fortune tellers, while others put their skills to new
uses in the New World, driving taxis and working in abattoirs. The new Gods, by
contrast, are brash, flamboyant, drunk with power, and clearly with no sense of
their mortality, so to speak.
Needless to say, there are
secrets that Wednesday is hiding, and when they come out, the level of surprise
you feel is likely to be directly proportional to how familiar you are with
Norse Mythology, since Gaiman doesn’t really hide many of the hints. That said,
the story progresses at a rollicking pace, making light of the length of the
novel and carrying the reader breathlessly along for the ride. The moments of
calm, which mainly occur when Shadow is lying low from the New Gods, as they
seek to thwart Wednesday in his mission, serve more as punctuation, helping the
reader catch his breath for a moment, before plunging back in, headlong.
By keeping the narrative focused
almost squarely on Shadow and his journey, Gaiman keeps the narrative flowing
freely, sometimes at the expense of character development of the supporting
cast, who are really more often than not guest appearances in his story, and
whose motivations and thought processes serve only to further Shadow’s own
journey. There are a few segues here and there, primarily focusing on the
arrival of some of the Old Gods to America, but the focus remains sharply on
Shadow almost exclusively. A pity, since some of the other characters are quite
interesting, and their stories would be very interesting to know.
‘American Gods’ doesn’t really
feel like fantasy at all, even at its most fantastical. If the byline wasn’t
Neil Gaiman but, say, Haruki Murakami, I cannot help but feel that it would
have won many more awards (but perhaps, conversely, sold a lot fewer copies).
Such is the curse of magical realism, that it is seen as a reserve of ‘serious’
literature, and having it wielded by a popular, and populist, author is
extremely refreshing. Interestingly, Gaiman does the same thing that most
authors in this category do when their characters are experiencing something
especially horrific: avert his eyes and hurry past, to the next piece in the narrative.
That aside, ‘American Gods’ is
truly remarkable. It weaves a complex tapestry of characters, spanning huge
expanses of an America that perhaps never existed, and yet is quintessentially
American. It addresses issues of nationhood, faith and humanity, without being
preachy. It raises some important moral questions, but does it without sticking
your face into it. Most importantly of all, though, it is a rollicking good
yarn.
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In the best tradition of
epilogues, here’s a fun fact. ‘American Gods’ is being adapted into a TV series
on an American network called “Starz”, and is available globally on Amazon
Prime Video. The first season ended last Sunday, and thusfar has been
remarkable in how it has stayed true to the vision of the novel, and yet taken a
completely different path on the journey so far. Any criticisms about character
development are put comprehensively aside, as there is plenty of time (the plan
is for 40 hours of content spread across 5 seasons) to develop characters and
explore back stories. The creative team is the one behind the series
“Hannibal”, so expect lots of blood and gore, and having Gaiman involved in the
creative process can only help.
