I’ve been looking forward to re-reading “American Gods” since the moment I finished it the first time around. And this first re-read is definitely not going to be the last.
For me, this book is a joy and a delight. It’s imaginative. It’s forward-thinking. It’s honest about how we relate to one another and see-but-can’t-see each other. It works literally as well as as metaphor. It takes itself seriously enough to be perfectly constructed and pure in tone and style, but doesn’t take itself seriously at all. It’s whimsical, and terrifying. It pulls zero punches, but never hurts… except when it does.
It’s also worth be noting that initially, I accidentally read it out of order. A couple of years ago, I was buying books for a vacation, and added “Anansi Boys” to my kindle, then inhaled it. When I got about three-quarters of the way through, I suddenly realized that “Anansi Boys” was a sequel. And then I continued. And then I read “American Gods,” and it was still complete heaven (no cuteness about the theoretical afterlife intended). They both work so well as stories and concepts (and I’m now re-reading “Anansi Boys,” so there will be a review of that soon) that I would honestly call them companion pieces rather than a linear series. Or whatever Neil Gaiman wants; he’s the boss.
I needed this as a soul cleanser after Oates’ “Zombie,” (plus, I am getting STOOOOOOOOOOKED about the upcoming Fuller series) and it was perfect… like, well, curling up with a good, favorite book. This fits on my shelf with “A Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Universe” (oh shit, I’m due for re-read of that, too), and “The Last Unicorn.” You know, books that you always love no matter your mood or life status, books that take care of you, and make you smile, and think, and feel a little challenged, but mostly in on the joke.