Life > February 21, 2008

By Michael Berkowitz | Staff writer

Neil Gaiman writes truly epic novels. Anansi Boys continues that tradition, offering the long and winding tale of Fat Charlie Nancy. The story itself, much like that of Gaiman’s previous best-seller American Gods, takes quite a while to unfold.

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Still the reader can’t help but be drawn in as Fat Charlie discovers that he is not only the son of a god, but also has a brother who is also a god.

Deeply immersed in West African mythology, Fat Charlie’s journey serves as an essay on language, literature and meaning.

Gaiman likens the process of story-telling to that of spinning a web, recalling the myth of Anansi the spider. His writing transports the reader into an alternate universe, one where the actions of gods and men seem equally strange and equally sacred.

All in all, it seems more appropriate to categorize the story as myth along the lines of The Odyssey rather than say Lord of the Rings.

It should appeal to any who do not mind a slower pace in their novels. Although a sprawling adventure, it doesn’t have as much plot as the Harry Potter series, but rather it features Fat Charlie playing straight-man to a world of incredibly dynamic characters.

The relationship between characters drives the plot (albeit sometimes with the pace of my grandmother on the highway) and, as was the case with Gaiman’s other works, builds to a wonderfully satisfying conclusion.

Although it seems impossible for the several story threads to work their respective ways towards a unifying conclusion, Gaiman does it with just a wink and a nod. Some friends who have read his work could not get past the initial hundred pages or so, and justifiably so.

However, while the story begins methodically, by the end, the plot has built up tremendous momentum though this comes from both a minor increase in speed and a large increase in the mass of the plot. To truly enjoy the book, though, the reader must be looking to enjoy the words on the page.

The language bears the unmistakable twinge of verse, or song throughout and is often playful.

Feeling the flow of the words is the true key to participating as a reader in this novel, and if you lack a desire to see the words, the book will offer you fewer enjoyments.

The words surround and encompass the audience but don’t necessarily have meaning individually. It is only the general effect of the words, an effect which often has a more emotional rather than analytical appeal.

Still, the book leaves the unmistakable mark on the reader of having had an experience. Regardless of whether one enjoys Gaiman’s work, his ambition should be marveled.

In this story, he writes about the god of storytelling.

While certainly a conscious effort on his part to tie the novel to the general scheme of words, it places the book itself in a precarious position.

While captivating, the storytelling seems less than perhaps godly. Gaiman’s self-conscious imposition of storytelling theory tends to detract from a reader’s involvement.

His discussion on the power of stories and songs sounds pedantic, almost like when your favorite English professor is forced to give a discussion of grammar laws. It detracts from the story, but perhaps Gaiman feels a need to justify himself. In American Gods, Gaiman’s writing seems to dawdle, lingering over details and descriptions to build another world. Perhaps with Anansi Boys, he felt like he should explain to readers why exactly he chooses to spend time painting such a vivid picture of a sometimes surreal world.

Instead, Gaiman could have allowed his fantastic writing to speak for itself in his latest pursuit.