I can’t remember how long ago I began to read Neil Gaiman‘s Sandman series. I can’t remember what I thought I was getting myself into, or how I thought it would turn out.
Whatever I thought I was getting into, I knew that reading it was going to be a long process. Graphic Novels are fairly expensive, and not always guaranteed to be found at your local library. There was a long lag between reading the first volume (“Preludes and Nocturnes“) and the second volume (“A Doll’s House“).
I read on, fascinated by Dream’s six siblings (Death, Destiny, Despair, Destruction, Desire, and Delirium). The interplay between these seven, the Endless, is some of the best sibling writing I have ever had the pleasure to read.
As my reading was somewhat disjointed (infrequent and out-of-order) I would strain to keep the plot and characters straight. This was easier than its sounds, as a comic it was designed to be somewhat self-contained, therefore some of my straining extracurricular.
I recently was able to finally end my long quest to read “Sandman.” I actually finished it on my birthday, and it was worth every moment spent seeking, reading, and straining. The ending of Sandman weaves in everything from the preceding comics into a gorgeous crescendo of story. Nothing I have ever read has been more satisfying.
Sandman is modern epic. It should be read not only by those who are interested in comics, but those who are interested in story period. Sandman is the very first book I have every finished with a burning desire to reread (this time in order) and also the first book I have finished with a burning desire to own.
Brilliant and inspiring, I am awestruck by Sandman.