[This is a short excerpt from my longer article on Gaiman that will appear in Gale/Cengage's British Writers Series XXIII next year: what follows is a brief reading of two comics from the series, which I hope will inspire people who haven't read them to pick them up!]
Critics often ask—with all
seriousness—why comics writers would write a comic instead of a traditional
story or novel. Typically they see comics as a juvenile form of literature, or
at best a way station for writers trying to break into more serious work.
Gaiman, however, has always embraced the possibilities of what Will Eisner
termed “sequential art,” and never distanced himself from the comics community
that spawned his greatest success. Partly this is because for him, comics were “virgin
territory.” As he goes on to explain, “When I’m writing novels I’m
painfully aware that I’m working in a medium that people have been writing absolutely
jaw-droppingly brilliant things for, you know, three-four thousand years now...But
with comics I felt like—I can do stuff nobody has ever done. I can do stuff
nobody has ever thought of.” (Ogline, Wild River Review). One of the things he can do that
“nobody has ever thought of” is the sheer range of associations possible in a
literary comic book. While a story or novel can allude to this or that work, a
comic book can literally have several stories/characters existing
simultaneously in a single frame, even in distinct worlds/times/ universes. As
Harlan Ellison, the famous science fiction writer, remarked about Sandman,
“I remember finishing issues of Sandman and just sitting there trying to
catch my breath, saying “What a ride this guy has taken me on. And I’d add,
“how brilliantly clever.” I’m a fairly clever guy, and I knew that I was
catching maybe a third of the cultural references in each issue that
Neil would just casually drop in” (Bender xiii).