We aren’t islands and we shouldn’t wish to be ones. Without people, their realms are left without purpose, without content, without richness. Morpheus and Death are powerful, they are members of the Endless, however not matter how powerful they are, they still need people. I am truly GLAD that my struggles in Season of Mists (the fourth volume) were left there and Neil Gaiman played with my mind a game, a wonderful game of words and images, a game where ironically you are given the rules of it until the end, but that isn’t a reason for not enjoying the fullest this remarkable game of dreaming awake while reading, a game that it is not for the faint of heart.Įverybody dreams. Illustrators: Shawn McManus, Colleen Doran, Bryan Talbot, George Pratt & Stan WochįAIRY TALES, NATURE’S FORCES, BLOOdY WITCHCRAFT & COMPACT’S TERMS Nothing in this tale-neither the sentiment nor the ghastly humor-seems the least bit out of place. Perhaps most remarkable about this tale is its great range, from the childlike and whimsical to the violent and horrific. Our tale opens as the sleeping Barbie-a character (along with her husband Ken) from "A Doll's House"-is being summoned by a group of little talking animals to a dream world where she is the Princess, and in which her friends the animals are being menaced by someone-or something- called "The Cuckoo." Soon The Cuckoo extends its menace to the waking world, Barbie is sucked into the world of dreams, and her fellow apartment dwellers-a lesbian couple (one of whom looks like an adorably benign Pete Lorre), a transgender woman, and a hippie witch (who is a lot-I mean a lot-older than she looks.) Their quest to defeat The Cuckoo, and the help they receive from Dream, occupies most of the narrative. But it is also more than mere psychologizing, for it is metaphysical too, suggesting that our dreams may be rooted in an extra-personal reality, a pre-planned landscape which can be invaded and dominated by others. As the title indicates, this tale is about human psychology and the stratagems we employ both to hide from ourselves and to endure what we must. What A Game of You lacks in abstract matters, it compensates for in its emphasis on the personal.
I admit, though, that this preference may be merely a matter of taste.
Its development is somewhat muddy, its narrative too crowded with characters, and it is somewhat removed from the central myth of Sandman and the theological and cosmic questions which surround him, themes I find the most compelling part of this series. I have read the first five volumes of The Sandman, and so far this is only my third favorite (after A Doll's House and Seasons of Mist).
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