All right, after years of hearing about the greatness of Neil Gaiman's Sandman series, I decided to read through it. When I discovered that a public library in my network actually owns the Omnibus edition, I thought that would be a good way to get to know the series. I put in a request to pick it up at my local library (which technically shouldn't have worked, since the Omnibus is catalogued as "non-circulating"), and read through one story at a time over the past few weeks.
For me, The Sandman was one of those experiences where I read something that has been lauded, and I think "Really? This is what people were so excited about?" I suspect that some of this reaction is simply because I'm reading it for the first time so many years after its initial publication. In the same way that I don't think Frank Miller's Batman stories or anything by Alan Moore are very good, I think I'm missing the effect this series had in its original time. What was originally groundbreaking is now not nearly so interesting--partly because the times have changed, partly because of so many books and films in the years since, many of which have been influenced by Gaiman's series.
Even so, I expected more of Gaiman's writing than this. He is one of the great literary and pop culture icons of our age, beloved by so many fans all over the world, but when I read The Sandman, I'm disappointed, and puzzled at the popularity. Throughout the series, Gaiman tries to create a faux-mythical tone, which means writing in a sort of highfalutin, high-speech manner, giving sacred import and emphasis to every panel. I find that kind of silly, but it could work (I love Tolkien, for example, and though his high-speech is sometimes over the top, the overall effect is just fine for me). What was more jarring for me, though, was the register switching between that ethereal, mythic voice, and the grungy 1990s slang. That didn't work for me at all, as I felt that I was constantly being drawn out of the Sandman world and into 1990s UK and USA.
Gaiman often seems to be grasping at any mythological or historical influence he can, cramming it all together into a bizarre jumble of whatever's on his mind at the moment. Like the language he employs, this mix of influences could be interesting--but instead I thought it was more random than planned, more distracting than useful. Gaiman is at his best when he is shifting from one time and place to something radically different, and back again. When he tells one sustained storyline, the result is weaker. He needs the plot crutch of fragmented times in order to show his storytelling to best effect.
I was also very disappointed by the artwork in all the Sandman stories. I understand that graphic novels of the 1980s had a much different look than they do now, but the style used in The Sandman does no favors at all to the stories. The colors are bland and washed-out, the dialogue placement within the panels is sometimes confusing, and the portraiture is just ugly. Look at page 923, for example. It looks like an episode of King of the Hill all of a sudden. I don't think this is just a stylistic choice that I don't prefer--it's just ugly. This is a shame, because Gaiman's world-building could have been beautiful (even though I don't care for his writing) if it was realized through fantastic art.
Writing that I don't like, artwork that is awful . . . and here it is, packaged in this beautiful, classic-looking, weighty tome. It doesn't make any sense to me. The care put into the production of the Omnibus strikes me as laughable, given the content within the book. Beautiful as the book itself is on the outside, what's inside has very little to do with beauty. Instead, Gaiman is constantly (and exclusively) drawn to the deviants of society (whether our world or a supernatural world). Love is almost always cruel and broken; people treat each other badly; hopes are shattered; confusion is ever-present. There are glimmers here and there of true beauty, but they are rare, and I didn't feel that they had the power to overcome the darkness and grunge of almost every other page of the book. I don't believe Gaiman is celebrating the varieties of horrible death, abuse, and pain that he puts into his stories; but the incessant presence of these elements is disturbing. I'll be glad to get this book out of my house.
I guess I'm glad that I know first-hand about The Sandman now, and can speak more knowledgeably about it when it comes up in conversation. But I certainly can't recommend the series to anyone. If anything, I think it's best to acknowledge its influence on a generation of a certain type of creator, and move on to better creations.