-
Anansi Boys
- by Neil Gaiman
- HC, © 2005, 334 pp, William Morrow, ISBN 0-06-051518-X
I made a big push to read Anansi Boys hoping to finish it before seeing Neil Gaiman at Kepler’s last week. I didn’t quite make it, but I finished it the next night and enjoyed it plenty well.
Anansi Boys sort of spins out of his previous fantasy novel, American Gods, as it’s based the trickster-storyteller-spider god Anansi, who is a supporting character in that earlier book. Fat Charlie – our hero – is the son of Anansi, but he feels that his father has worked to humiliate him his whole life, and so he emigrates to England where he’s engaged to be married to Rosie. When he finds out his father’s died, he also learns that he has a brother, Spider, and that Spider inherited the magical talent in the family. Unfortunately, their reunion results in Spider stealing Fat Charlie’s fiancee, and putting Charlie in hot water with his extremely unscrupulous boss. Fat Charlie’s efforts to get rid of Spider and get his life back sends all of them on a strange odyssey across the world.
I don’t think I’ve ever felt so much like Gaiman was channeling Douglas Adams – or heck, Dave Barry – as in Anansi Boys Despite its serious subject matter, it’s really a light and whimsical book about trouble with one’s family and being careful what you wish for.
What makes the book work is the interplay among Fat Charlie, Rosie, and Spider. Fat Charlie and Rosie seem to really love each other, but there’s an undercurrent that Rosie’s really with Charlie to spite her grumpy, controlling mother. Spider falls for Rosie hard – even though he used trickery to (somehat unintentionally) ensnare her – and being a godling she falls for him in return. The sibling rivalry between Spider and Charlie is palpable, because for Charlie the stakes are so high, and because Spider’s advantage is so large it forces Charlie to unusual (but not truly unethical) extremes. Charlie’s agony as Spider seduces Rosie is powerfully drawn, really the most emotionally powerful part of the book, and it turns the middle of the book into a real page-turner.
The plot converges into a neat and whimsical little bit of coincidence (though when gods are involved one wonders whether there can ever be true coincidence). While Gaiman plays with conventions of myth and quests, his heroes and their approaches to their problems are unconventional and that’s what makes them feel real rather than like figures in some larger story. Everything ties up neatly – incorporating some elements I haven’t even mentioned here – and with the satisfying feel to it.
Quirky, funny and inventive, I wouldn’t rate Anansi Boys above American Gods, but that’s hardly a slam. I’m glad I read it.
I still don’t understand the appeal of Gaiman. I’ve read — and been unimpressed by — some of his comics. I read Neverwhere and thought it was dreadful. Stock characters behaving in arbitrary fashion full of Joss Whedonesque “jokes”. I feel like I’m missing some essential geek gene that would allow me to appreciate Gaiman and Whedon.
I didn’t care for Neverwhere either. I appreciated the setting, after a fashion, but the story didn’t grab me at all.
The fundamental thing to realize about Gaiman is that he’s a stylist. Plotting is not his strong suit, and the strengths of his characterizations tend to be subtle. On the other hand, he’s long on atmosphere and setting. For me, his work is all over the map: I loved most of Sandman (although I originally stopped buying it 7 issues in because it became a pretty dreadful horror comic for a few issues), but didn’t care for Black Orchid, and I’d put 1602 somewhere in-between those two.
One reason I like American Gods is that it is strongly-plotted.