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A NEW FRAME FOR COMIC BOOKS:
The Genuine Literary Value of the Comic Book Medium
© 1999 - 2000 A. David Lewis
[Part 2 of 2]
1: Introduction (Part 1) 2: THE COMIC MEDIUM AS LITERATURE (Part 1) 3: WATCHMEN, The Onion (Part 1) 4: THE SANDMAN, The Watermelon 5: With Great Power Comes Great Responsibility…"
Across many
realms, those that have known Morpheus have given him their own name:
The Greeks called him Oneiros, once the one love of Calliope. Martians
call him Lord L'Zoril, flaming god of the dream path. The ancient peoples
of Africa's glass city called him Kai'ckul, suitor and tormentor of
Queen Nada. The former occupants of Princess Barbara's fallen Land called
him Murphy, its original creator and keeper of its contract. Lucien
the Librarian, Abel of the House of Secrets, and Cain of the House of
Mysteries call him "Sire." Matthew the Raven and Mervyn the Pumpkinhead
call him "Boss." The Endless call him brother. He is Morpheus, Lord-Shaper
of the Dreaming. He is the Sandman.
The character
of the Sandman is, of course, this ripe fruit's main seed. He gets this
name (for his titles are plentiful) from the Golden Age superhero Wesley
Dodds, the crimefighting Sandman. To combat an insomnia born of a guilty
conscience, Dodds would don an air-tight mask at night and foil crime
by gassing felons to sleep. This crimefighter got his name, in
turn, from the mythical being that would sparkle magic sand in the eyes
of children at bedtime to make them drift off to sleep. After Dodds,
several other men took on the role of the heroic Sandman. The copyrighted
superhero name (owned by DC Comics) was authorized for use by Neil Gaiman
and the mature-reader Vertigo comics line. Though there was some connection
to its comic predecessors (Fables and Reflections and The
Wake would allude to a mystical connection between Dodds and Morpheus;
in The Doll's House, Morpheus would confront one of Dodds’
successors, Trevor Hall, and incur the wrath of his wife, Hippolyta
Hall), Gaiman's Sandman was to be an entity of itself. In fact, Morpheus
bears more direct resemblance to his legendary, arcane origin as Lord-ruler
of the Dreaming realm and one of the seven, immortal Endless.
Yes, powerful
Morpheus is just one of a larger family just as his territory is just
one area of a larger universe. He rules the Dreaming, a realm of infinite
possibilities where all forms of creature from all planes of reality
come when they sleep and dream; his deep and vital connection with the
land allows him to shape and mold its reality as he wishes. As Lord-Shaper
Dream of the Endless, Morpheus oversees this land separate of his six
siblings own self-named jurisdictions – Destiny, Destruction, Death,
Despair, Delirium and Desire. They are not gods nor are they deities,
per se, but the Endless still play essential cosmic roles in the framework
of existence and in ways not perceptible to the human eye. In fact,
since they oversee elements of other realities in addition to
our own, it could be said that they operate in ways imperceptible to
also the inhuman eye. Or ear. Or tentacle. Or sense organ, whatever.
During his
reign, Morpheus has been involved in many events across realities, but
a recent one seems to have left its damning mark. Issue #1 of The
Sandman tells about a gathering in Wych Cross, England in 1916 and
of a group of amateur conjurers plot to imprison Death and gain immortality.
Their spell backfires, though, capturing only her brother, Dream. Hoping
to wrest secrets from their captive, that is success enough. And until
1988 – the year of The Sandman' s first issue – Morpheus
remains shackled there, silent. His powers are absent, his kingdom crumbles,
and he is the prisoner of mere humans for over seventy years. All he
can do is sit and wait, determined to outlive the caution and lifespans
of his captors.
By issue
# 57, Morpheus has returned to power in his native kingdom, but his
half-century bondage has not left him unscathed. First, once he escaped
and set out to put the Dreaming back in order, he had to set right several
dreams that went astray. This lead to his dissipation of Trevor Hall's
ghost and the enmity of his pregnant widow, Hippolyta Hall. Second,
had he not embarked into Hell (yes, literally, Hell) to find his stolen
powerful headpiece, Morpheus would not have incurred Lucifer's spite
as well. When the Devil later quits his post (again, you read that right),
he makes good on his ire by putting the burdensome keys to Hell in Morpheus'
possession. This leads to a whole bunch of headaches (with Heaven, with
Order, with Chaos, with the Asian gods, with the Norse myths, etc);
it's three most pertinent results are Heaven's repossession of Hell
under new management, the unleashing the mischief god Loki back upon
the world, and the bondage of the faerie Nuala in Morpheus’ palace,
the Heart of the Dreaming.
The last
stop on my ultra-brief, incredibly important synopsis of The Sandman's
first threescores issues is the status of Morpheus' son, the tragic
Orpheus. Against his father's advice, Orpheus went to free his dead
wife Eurydice from the Underworld. When he failed and fell victim to
the Bacchante’s ravages, Orpheus is left alive but only as a bodiless
head. He shunned by the family and made to suffer forever. Forever,
that is, until Morpheus finally returns to him. His own seventy-year
imprisonment has made the Dream-King experience a change of heart on
many matters. And, catalyzed by several generations of reflection, Morpheus
gives Orpheus the release of death that his son always desired. And
that's the story to date.
The twists
of myth and reality, of what we would call real life and what we would
call fiction, should already be obvious in this glimpsing the Sandman's
world. The list that I crafted for WATCHMEN – consisting
of Literary Allusion, Historical Allusion, and Innovative Story Approach
to name a few – should already be getting check-marks next to each
item. The Sandman series is dense. Like a juggler, Gaiman
has thrown many balls into the air. Except to make the analogy complete,
I'd have to say that Gaiman does this on the planet Vega III where some
balls hang in the air indefinitely, some are propelled into deep space,
some fall back to his hand, and some turn into a whale and explode.
In short, what I'm saying is that Gaiman has set a very elaborate, unpredictable
trap to spring on poor Morpheus. Like his son, this will be a tale of
tragedy and downfall for Dream.
This specific
thirteen-issue segment (thread?) is The Sandman series final
Act, entitled The Kindly Ones. (Note: I’d actually prefer
to see it as a 12-issue arc with a one-issue interlude. Part six is
not only drawn by an artist other than Mark Hempel and is tangential
to the main story, but also follows Gaiman’s standard practice
of inserting such an interlude to break up his tales (e.g. The Doll’s
House and Seasons of Mist to name two). The reason for my
preference will become obvious later in the paper.) While they once
helped him in recovering his kingdom, the Kindly Ones serve in large
part as this book's antagonists. At times, they are plainly shown/written
to be the Greek Furies, otherwise known as the Erinyes or Eumenides.
They pursue Morpheus for aiding Orpheus in his long-deprived death;
they view this act as kin-killing and, at the impetus of Lyta Hall,
aim to destroy him. If they have any motivation, it’s to take awkward
revenge on Orpheus by destroying his father – as Persephone warned,
they never forgave Orpheus for making them cry in the Underworld. Many
warn not to call them the Furies, in fear of their wrath. Instead,
it is heavily suggested that they only be referred to as "the nice ladies"
or the Kindly Ones.
Never one
to leave things as simple, though, Gaiman complicates this straight
reading. He richly ties together the Furies’ existence with the
lives of several other female trios. The women are at times depicted
as the Gorgons Stentho and Euarayle, a group of very peculiar women
at an English nursing home (more on this later), the Grey Women who
assisted Perseus, Macbeth’s Three Witches, and the three Fates
Atropos, Clotho, and Lacheisis. Therefore, never able to be entirely
certain with which manifestation they might be seeing, critical readers
have elected to more generally call the women the Triple Goddess (with
all the echoes of the Trinity and Mary that such a name might entail).
Another Fury
is central to the story: Hippolyta Hall, once the costumed heroine called
the Fury. This character, like Wesley Dodds, appeared in the post-Crisis
DC Universe.
(Note: I only
provide this explanation for a significance it could have later: The
DC Universe underwent a total revamping during the 1980s entitled Crisis
on Infinite Earths. Before it, the DCU existed in what they termed
a "multiverse." That is, many different Earths existed, each with its
own slight differences and each in its own dimension. This was the rationale
given for the many contradictory stories printed by DC over its fifty
years, specifically those that involved convoluted origins (e.g. our
Earth had the baby Superman land in Kansas, while Earth-2 had him land
in Maryland, both of which were printed by DC). Crisis had the
effect of not only destroying all the "infinite Earths," but also recombined
pieces of them all into one amalgamated universe. In pre-Crisis
continuity, Hyppolyta Hall was the daughter of Steve Trevor and Earth-2’s
Wonder Woman, an Amazonian princess.)
She was the biological
daughter of the original Fury, but was orphaned and raised by the Trevors.
Fighting crime as a member of Infinity Inc., Fury later left the group
to join her dead, disembodied husband, Hector Hall – the third
Sandman – in a pocket dimension to continue their fight against
evil on a higher level. When Morpheus journeyed out to heal and reunify
his kingdom, he was forced to close down the dimension, send Hector
along to the afterlife, and return Lyta to Earth. For unknown reasons,
Morpheus told her that he would one day come from her unborn child Daniel
that had gestated in the Dreaming. When, at the beginning of The
Kindly Ones, Daniel goes missing and is presumed dead, she snaps
mentally and vows to have revenge on her prime suspect, Morpheus.
Her title
as the "Fury" is staggeringly appropriate. First, she wants revenge
for the death of her kin: the ghostly husband Morpheus was forced to
banish and the son she suspects he also abducted and killed. Second,
her name and origin already have mythological ties. Hippolyta was the
name of the amazon queen confronted by Hercules. While The Kindly
Ones states that she was "given in marriage by Hercules to Theseus"
the Minotaur-killer, other myths have it that Hercules slayed her in
battle, proving his might to the Amazons. Since Wonder Woman was her
pre-Crisis mother, her Amazonian heritage is no fluke. Finally,
her post-Crisis mother (who might or might not
be the woman in The Kindly Ones, part 6, page 8, panel 1) received
her powers directly from Tisiphone, one of the Furies.
However,
neither the Kindly Ones nor Lyta’s motives are strictly evil; in
fact, there are no true villains depicted in the story. Even the mischievous
Puck and Loki – who are to blame for Daniel's disappearance
– seem to be in the employ of some unseen being. Loki is intentionally
trying to complicate Morpheus' life. Robin "The Puck" Goodfellow just
seems to be committing the acts of lunacy to which he's used. Their
acts difficult to categorize as purely malicious. Other bizarre characters,
such as the immortal mortal Hob Gadling, the land that walks like a
man Fiddler's Green, or Lucien the once-raven librarian all try to aid
Morpheus. Therefore, the title could also be a reference to the other
characters, each generally goodhearted and victims in their own rights.
So, before
we take an even deeper bite, let's mention whatever else we can about
our main seed, especially his name. His personal name, Morpheus, seems
arbitrary; none of the other Endless seem to have any names outside
of their titles. Worth considering, though, is his title as the "Lord-Shaper"
of the Dreaming and the meaning of his name’s root word: morph.
In an age where we see computer graphics everyday, it should be no shock
that the "morph" of "morphing technology" comes from "metamorphosis"
or "a change of shape." Also, according to Gaiman's telling, Morpheus
is the father of musical Orpheus by Calliope. The similarities of their
names is apparent, but its significance is unknown (especially since
to the Greeks, Morpheus is known as "Oneiros," even to Calliope).
I do have
one...well, maybe not explanation, but...one nice take
on his name and how it relates to the rest of the tale. Remember, we're
already dealing with a tricky proposition: the death or end of an Endless.
Throughout the series, several different characters comment on how nothing
is forever; all things change. That's all according to Destruction in
World's End, the Furies in Kindly Ones, and Lucien in
The Wake. All things change. Dream did not agree, and many concurred
that he was forever constant and fixed, including his ex-wife Calliope.
But maybe his name, Morpheus for "change," was a subtle hint of his
own inevitable change from the years of imprisonment. Matthew the Raven
asks Lucien, "Why did it happen? Why did he let it happen?" And, similar
Nuala's own belief – that Dream may have engineered his own demise
– Lucien replies:
Let it, Matthew?
I think he did a little more than let it happen...Charitably...I
think...Sometimes, perhaps, one must change or die. And, in the
end, there were, perhaps, limits to how much he would let himself
change. (Wake, p. 59)
Morpheus' inheritor,
the child Daniel, takes on the role of Dream of the Endless, but not
the same name. No longer a baby, he says that he is "not Morpheus. I
have no right to that name. I am Dream of the Endless: it is enough"
(Wake, p. 26).
I'll take
Daniel at his word and move on.
It’s
obvious that Gaiman put a tonnage of time into considering the existences,
names, and entangled histories of his characters. Their juxtapositions,
I feel, are just as deliberate as WATCHMEN's. The following are
some of the more interesting and troubling ones to be found in The
Kindly Ones:
Matthew and the
(second) Corinthian. Now, this is an interesting team; as Matthews
says, "It was like a bad TV show. He's a reincarnated serial killer
-- His partner's a bird. They're cops" (Kindly, 9.24). In
fact, Daniel later reveals that he stopped the Corinthian from once
killing Matthew. So what still makes them the perfect pair to go to
Swartalfheim and find Daniel? Well, both Matthew and Corinthian are
death-oriented characters. However, the nightmare known as the Corinthian
causes gruesome death, while Matthew as a raven comes to hearken and
witness it. Both have a particular fetish for eye-eating, but Matthew
does it because of his nature as a bird; Corinthian does it because
he relishes it. Finally, both are the loyal servants of Morpheus in
their (at least) second incarnations; yet Matthew continually questions
his new state of being while the Corinthian happily accepts it. (Note:
Another nice touch is that both of their past lives amounted to nothing
good. The first Corinthian (all biblical reference intended) was one
of the errant dreams to leave the Dreaming during Morpheus' absence
and found pleasure as a serial killer on Earth. He was destroyed when
he opposed Dream's making him return. Matthew was the DC character Matthew
Cable from Alan Moore's Swamp Thing. He, too, had become nefarious
by his intoxicated end and, as a raven, seeks to mend his ways.) Also,
they're a complimentary pair. Matthew probes while the Corinthian acts.
Additionally, their emotional differences are profound – Matthew,
pardon the pun, has his feathers easily ruffled by violence or simple
insults; like his rebellious predecessor, nothing stops the Corinthian.
So, if we
see them as death ambassadors, why don't they work for Death herself,
Dream’s sister? What slowly becomes clear over The Sandman series
is that Death more generally works for Dream. Maybe she does this is
the capacity of a sibling looking out for another sibling or maybe their
jurisdictions are more complexly crossed than we might imagine. More
certain is the fact that, if he desired, Dream could have a much more
active hand in who lives and who dies; he can kill and reincarnate relatively
easily, it seems. He allows Orpheus death, brings back Abel and Corinthian,
and obliterates Trevor Hall. What an interesting comment by Gaiman:
Dream can be just as much, if not more, powerful than Death!
Robin Goodfellow
(aka "Puck") and Loki Skywalker. This is the bad-ass, half-sized tag
team that Matthew and the Corinthian are sent to confront. Mischief
is the forte of both these imps. One hails from World Tree of Norse
mythology, the brother of Odin and tormentor of the mighty (and mightily
stupid) thunder god Thor. The other springs from the world of Faerie,
ruled by Oberon and Titania, and has been long remembered in this realm
through William Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream
– the play was a parting gift from Morpheus to the royal couple
on their final visit to this world in the late 16th century. Both of
the tricksters are loose in the world of Man and have joined together
to kidnap baby Daniel and burn the mortality out of him for a mystery
employer.
I think what’s
so interesting about these two is how their respective realms view them
and what fates they suffer for their actions. Arguably, they are roughly
the same (with maybe some marginal difference in their motives; oddly
enough Loki seems to also want revenge for simply being indebted
to Morpheus!). Yet Loki is a criminal in his world, a rogue fit to be
bound in the entrails of his son and have scalding venom leaked over
his eyes for all time. He has directly maligned Odin and the rulers
of his strict land. Puck, however, also comes from a monarchy, but one
that seems to delight in mischief and merriment so long as it isn’t
visited upon the royals themselves. Their morals do not divide them;
their worlds determine their possible condemnations. The Corinthian
doles out punishments that reflects all this: He breaks Loki’s
neck, gouges out Loki’s eyes, eats the orbs, and leaves the trickster
to Odin. With Robin, he merely exchanges words and lets the Puck go
on his way.
Lyta Hall and
Delirium/Hob Gadling and Dream. The male/female yin-yang of The Kindly
Ones. Ladies first:
Here's a
kooky pair, similar in circumstance but leagues apart in reception.
Both are powerful beings in their own worlds: Lyta was once the superpowered
hero Fury, and Delirium was once the Endless member known as Delight.
Yet both have suffered a terrible loss. Gaiman shrouds Delight's in
secret – perhaps it was the death of the original Despair, perhaps
it was the rise of greater lunacy in the world, who knows? For whatever
reason, she is now the deranged Delirium and is desperate to find the
dog that her missing brother Destruction gave her named Barnabas. Lyta's
loss has been made clear – her family. What makes these two so
interesting in The Kindly Ones is that both hunt for something
they have lost, yet they must embrace their insanity in order to find
it.
Now, wouldn't
you think that we mortal readers would care a little bit more about
Lyta's pursuit of her family? Or, maybe, we'd be more enthralled by
the supernatural, crazed wanderings of an Endless? Though counterintuitive,
the reverse happens. Lyta’s plight becomes vengeful and increasingly
inhuman; her demands for Morpheus’ death strike the reader as excessive
and unfair. Even the one who defends her, the Thessalian witch Larissa,
warns:
And
you...are a pawn...who briefly became a knight...or a queen. And
you’ve just been taken off the board...As I understand it,
your actions have ensured that you will never see Daniel again...I’d
take a shower, and then start running, if I were you. Lots of people
are going to want to hurt you for what you’ve done. Including
me. (Kindly, 13.20)
Sympathy for
Lyta is hard to summon; pity for Delirium is as easy to experience as
for an abused child. Something in her past – known only to Gaiman,
who says that he ain't tellin'! – destroyed the beauty of Delight
and left only Delirium in its wake. Now, powerful but pitiful, she incoherently
searches for her four-legged traveling companion. And, along the way,
she helplessly frets over her brother's situation like the kid sister
that she is. Few things are sweeter in The Kindly Ones than when
she does manage to find Barnabas in the care of a faithful street beggar.
Of course,
that's all very subjective (and I welcome you to shoot down my reading
by writing your own paper on The Sandman please), but the human-inhuman
reversal can also be found between Hob Gadling and Dream himself. Robert
"Hob" Gadling is mortal, but ancient. Like a few, select others in human
history, he simply does not age or die. Nothing specific, per se, has
made him this way; Death had just simply never come for him. He has
assumed multiple identities since his first life as a contemporary of
Chaucer. Also in that time, he has befriended Morpheus and they sit
to have a drink together every hundred years. The friendship is natural
enough, as these supernatural friendships go; both have seen generations
pass, both have different names in different cultures and different
times, and both cannot remain for long with a mortal woman (a particular
fetish of Morpheus' it would seem). Yet over their next several meetings,
it is the godlike being that instructs Hob on the inhumanity of slavery,
while Hob is the one that finds no passion to young Will Shakespeare's
plays. The human is the one who observes objectively that life is full
of pain and suffering, while Morpheus is the one to have an emotional
outburst during their sit-down in the late 19th Century. But it is in
The Kindly Ones that their biggest reversal comes: mortal Hob
warns the Endless that he can feel Death coming for Morpheus –
he can smell the stink of death on him, says Hob. What a reversal! The
human not only worries about the "god," but manages to outlive him!
Gaiman makes it clear that the death, maiming, destruction, and the
overall manhandling of deities and myths are fair game, allowing the
reader no easy assumptions in viewing each of them. Fate might be real,
but absolute safety is not; both of these pairs remind us that all of
The Kindly Ones' characters are in peril, regardless of their
spiritual/cosmic status.
Nothing really
gets more morbid than death and, while The Kindly Ones definitely
revolves around Dream's sister a great deal, Gaiman does find plenty
of ways to have fun – to make The Sandman "funny...and irresistibly
humanizing." Its rather impressive that such a somber book can get away
with being so silly and punny at times. For instance, in departing from
Destiny's garden, Delirium literally leaves by turning herself
into a wind-tossed leaf. Another? How about the fact that the Once-Lord-of-Hell
Lucifer now plays piano at his privately-owned nightclub "Lux"....or
"light," if you need a translation for both the root of ol' hornhead's
name and his new joint. Thrown on top of that the fact that he's shown
playing "Sit Down You're Rockin' the Boat," and you just know that Gaiman
is off somewhere smiling over the double-jest – not only is Lucifer
the original boatrocker of heaven, but one of its lyrics says that "the
Devil will drag you under, by the sharp lapel around you're checkered
coat" to a man wearing guess what. A young woman named Rose Walker
seems unable to age and unable to love ever since she gave her heart
back to her Grandmother. (Note: Go read The Doll's House for
a full explanation of that one. It's too much to fit here; just
trust me that she does actually give her heart to her grandmother and
that the pun and the ramifications of her act are interesting.) Isn't
it cute that the three Fates read Fortune Cookies? That an ugly, little
nightmare, named Borghal Rantipole for some totally whacked reason is
polite and helpful to Delirium? That the eye-chewing Corinthian calls
himself "a visionary?" And that Loki and Robin Goodfellow disguise themselves
as police detectives named Luke Pinkerton and Gordy Fellowes?
But take
a step back from the humor and you might see that Gaiman's still in
full control and having the last laugh on us. Like, don't Luke and Gordy
look an awful lot like Detectives Fine and Borquin from WATCHMEN?
Is that Christopher Robin Milne's piglet doll lying next to the
comatose old man? Is the new, angelic citadel in Hell meant to
be so phallically shaped for its genitalless occupants? And...well,
I'm no expert on numerology by this strikes me as suspicious: multiples
of 3 are hidden everywhere. Three women appear on the cover of
the People magazine Lyta holds as she walks down a street with
multiples of 3 on each sign. Also, she meets a three-headed Geyron.
Corinthian has three mouths while Luke Pinkerton wears three bandages.
Rose spends three hours at the Wynch Cross rest home. The Corinthian
eats three sets of eyes. The Dreaming pulls Matthew back three times.
Morpheus happens upon Larissa, his third jilted lover. The three Fates
cut Morpheus' lifeline even as the three Furies hound him (or are they
one and the same?).And, with the exception of the intermission drawn
by a different artist, The Kindly Ones actually runs 12 issues
(3x4), starting with issue #57 (3x19) and ending The Sandman's
ninth (3x3) story arc with issue #69 (3x13) of the 75-issue (3x25) series.
Am I just making this all up or is Gaiman really pushing the point of
the Triple Goddess through devout number-dropping?
It's all
happening, all at once, in the pages of The Kindly Ones, but
for what reason? Maybe Gaiman’s viewpoint on faith should
be considered; he could be saying something. After all, he seems
comfortable with freely co-opting, tailoring, and writing all sorts
of belief-tied characters. In addition, many of the mythos of which
he writes seem to be in decline: the faeries have abandoned Earth, the
Endless are in strife or missing, Christianity is largely altered by
Satan’s boredom and abandonment with Hell, Odin is hunting for
options to Ragnarok, etc. Amazing things are happening all about humans
everyday (even if you eliminate the activity of superheroes), yet Gaiman
shows them all to be fairly blind to it. Sounds like some sort of social
commentary to me. Like he doesn't give a tinker's damn about what's
sacred if it interferes with his story; in fact, his love of the story
and his playing with the all characters, human and otherwise, is more
of a commentary in support of Humanity rather than Divinity. Crafting
stories make humans like gods, and in stories gods aren't worth a damn.
Oddly enough, it is the ever-lying Loki as Luke Pinkerton who gives
the most honest commentary on the gods' mutability and modern roles
in The Sandman series. When asked who he is, Loki responds:
[I
am] merely one who regrets the abandonment of Theology, in these
strange warm times...You don't have to believe in God. But what
about gods? Eh? The purality of Powers and Dominions. The
Lords and Ladies of Field and Thorn, of Asphalt and Sewer, gods
of the Telephone and Whore, gods of the Hospital and Car-Crash?
(Kindly, 5.24)
In fact,
The Sandman series is all about "the story," not the myths and
not the gods. World's End consists entirely of stories. And stories
within stories. And stories within stories within stories – you
get the point. Whether beginning, ending, embellishing, or debunking
them, Gaiman has Morpheus live up to another of his names, the Prince
of Stories, and makes Storytelling the number one priority above all
else (similar to but geometrically more successful than the obsessiveness
of the paradox paper). The Setting is compromised by a certain vagueness,
given all the many locales Gaiman places his cast. In dealing with all
of these multiple lands, dimensions, characters, continuities, times,
and places, the author opts for a fluidity between locales rather than
a rigid and limited time/place setting. For example, he never deems
it necessary to explain the Christian settings of Heaven and Hell (or,
for that matter, the Christian theology) in terms of the Dreaming. Yet
angels come and go from the Dreaming to Earth and to other points unknown.
Greek legends, from places beyond any of the worlds like Olympus and
Hades’ Underworld, freely do the same. The Dreaming itself is said
to be fluid and ever-changing. So, while places are given names, their
actual geography is largely indefinite.
Time is chronological
(at least, in The Kindly Ones) and even adheres to the
series’ printing schedule (five years of publishing the comic coincides
with five years of Morpheus being free from imprisonment). But how it
coincides with the separate mythos is troubling. In terms of Norse mythology,
how close/far are we to Ragnarok? In terms of Shakespeare’s characters,
how long has it been since the events of Midsummer Night’s Dream
(if they really did take place) took place? Most troubling (and,
probably, the smartest thing to ignore) is Sandman’s proven connection
to the DCU, the stereotypical slow-aging of comic heroes, the never-ending
superheroics, and, again pardon the pun, its crisises. Does Clark Kent
go to the Dreaming when he sleeps? Is the death of Bruce Wayne’s
parents replayed as a nightly nightmare on its shores? Has Lex Luthor
ever, in his sleep, attempted to usurp Morpheus and take over that world?
Presumably, the answers would all be yes, but Gaiman wisely decides
never to show such mainstream cross-overs. All we know for certain is
that it is the early nineties in the depicted "real world" with no definite
relationship to any other timetable. Gaiman will give us no explanation
because that could in fact lessen the gestalt tale. And he very much
seems to be saying that the story, much like the play, is the thing.
Even as it
comes to its conclusion, The Sandman series seems so drunk with
storytelling glee that many tales only begin or continue on by issue
#75 with no ending set forth by Gaiman. Morpheus finds an end, true,
as does Lyta Hall’s quest, Zelda’s ailing, and Alex Burgess’
torment. But Daniel’s reign just begins, Cluracan’s Nemesis
was just born, and Nuala’s wanderings are never explored. Further,
many threads of the tapestry remain unresolved. The ramifications of
Hell’s new management have not been addressed, the mystery employer
of Puck and Loki remains unrevealed, Destruction’s realm is still
without a ruler, and Lucifer sets out for points unknown. The Plot Arc
is clear for Morpheus himself, but obviously Gaiman felt under no obligation
to tidily deal with the outcomes of his many secondary characters. While
this leaves things somewhat unresolved, it also adds to both the pseudorealism
and focus on Morpheus’ life story.
The point
could even be made that Gaiman, like Moore, uses the other characters
in a postmodern capacity by talking through them in The Kindly Ones.
But I can't take credit for this insight. Instead, I only wish to
embellish on McConnell's testimony from his introduction to The Kindly
Ones. Below, he talks of the neat gimmick embedded in the story
that also provides evidence for Gaiman's story-obsession:
Notice
that the conversation among the ladies at the opening is deliberately
constructed to refer to the act of telling the final major tale
in The Sandman series. "What are you making him them," asks
Clotho of Lachesis in the third frame of the first chapter. "I can't
say that I'm terribly certain, my Popsy," she replies. "But it's
a fine yarn, and I don't doubt that it'll suit. Go with anything,
this will." The story begins as a story about storytelling, but
also as a story...in its own right...In fact eight of the thirteen
chapters begin, in the first frame, with a thread of some sort sunning
across the panel, and with a comment that applies equally to the
telling of the tale and to the tale itself.
Those postmodern
opening comments reveal a great deal of Gaiman's meticulousness and
personal uncertainty in shaping this "fine yarn." A anxiousness begins
Parts One and Two– "Is it ready yet? Are you done?" and "Well?
How long is it going to take?" Part Three offers a cautious, delicate
tone with Loki and Puck saying "It think it's going to be bigger than
I had planned," and "I don't mind. As big as it needs to be." (Note:
By his own admission in the Afterword, Gaiman admits that "this was
the longest of all the Sandman stories, and it was in many ways the
hardest to write." Part of that difficulty must have included parting
with a (cast of) character(s) that he had written for so long. See Part
Four's opening.) "I wish I could be certain I was doing the right thing,"
comments an angel at the beginning of Part Four, and a calmer and more
evenly paced sentiment begins Part Five with "It's happening. Very slowly,
but it's happening." Once past the half-way point and Part Six's intermission,
the end is in sight by Part Seven – "I never thought I would ever
get to this place," and "Destinations are often a surprise to the Destined."
Part Nine warns that it's "almost time," – "Nearly. Very nearly,"
responds one of the other Fates – and Part Ten abruptly ends the
metacommentary when the death-bringing Corinthian snaps the cord with
a solid "There." The end is now assured. All Matthew the Raven can ask
the reader by Part Twelve is "Still here, then?" a la Ferris
Bueller. It's already a foregone conclusion by the time Part Thirteen
opens with Dream just sitting there that he's waiting for his sister
Death to arrive.
By the time
Dream actually dies in Part Thirteen, you have to feel like an idiot
that you didn't see it coming, because Gaiman's hints are everywhere.
For instance, in Fables and Reflections Morpheus' heir Daniel
is found in the crib in holding a raven's feather. Death, it would seem
to say, is on the way. By the time the boy is captured by Loki and Puck
and tossed into the fire (to burn away his mortality, like Hercules),
that feather has become a Phoenix's. Death, once again, but...c'mon!
The kid was holding a Phoenix feather and now he's in the fire! Gaiman
has twice told us that "A King will forsake his kingdom. Life
and Death will clash and fray. The oldest battle begins once more."
The Grey Ladies tell Destiny this is Seasons of Mist and then
the Fates (again, one and the same?) read it again off a fortune cookie,
saying "We've had that one before, haven't we?" and "It's definitely
familiar, dearie."
(Note: We do
have something of a self-fulfilling prophesy here. The fortune comes
true when Morpheus comes to Nuala's aid, allowing the Kindly Ones to
tear apart the Dreaming and force his death. Nuala only came into his
life as a gift from the Faerie trying to obtain Hell from Morpheus.
Morpheus got the key to Hell due to an old grudge held by Lucifer. And
Morpheus only encountered Lucifer again because of the guilt trip laid
on him by Death in Destiny's Garden. Why were Death and Dream there
in the first place? Because the fortune spoken by the Grey Ladies makes
Destiny call a meeting of the Endless. In essence, the fortune sets
events into motion that fulfill the fortune.)
Illustrator Marc
Hempel also signals the dark days ahead by constantly shading the frame-gutters
black whenever action shifts to the Dreaming. Simply, darkness surrounds
the Dreaming, a darkness that is off-set when the pure-white Daniel
becomes the new Dream.
And, in the
end, isn't that precisely what The Kindly Ones and The Sandman
series are about? A new Dream. Morpheus imprisonment was both a
humanizing and dehumanizing experience for the Endless; in The Kindly
Ones, he finally acknowledges it. After admitting that he is responsible
for Orpheus' death and showing Nuala the "bleak mask of regret" of which
McConnell spoke, Morpheus says:
Have you
ever been imprisoned, Nuala? I was...I spent over eighty years in
a glass bottle, like a genie...or a city...I could have waited until
the earth crumbled to dust. But still, I waited. I told Ishtar that
she was wrong. That I was not changed. That I did not change. But
in truth, I think I lied to her. (Kindly, 11.6)
(Note:
Morpheus is referring to the city of Baghdad which, at the request
of its King Haroun, Dream forever keeps in a bottle to ensure its
eternal glory. I think he misunderstood Haroun's motive; Baghdad
isn't trapped so much as it is preserved. Likewise, Morpheus should
well know that Nuala understands imprisonment – after all,
she was forced to work in the Heart of the Dreaming as a gift from
the Faerie! Still, he absently overlooks this, emphasizing the need
for a more compassionate version of Dream.)
But it is that
traumatic change that also gives him new insight into his son and the
mortals whose dreams he oversees. Largely because of the tainting imprisonment,
Morpheus' growing weariness, and his personal guilt, a new Dream (upper-case
and lower-case) is needed and created. The Endless office of
Dream itself is merely tailored by the addition of Daniel's human origins.
Daniel is Dream, but different. The Heart of the Dreaming's watchmen
(heh) ask if he is both Morpheus and Daniel in one, commenting that
"our Lord would not have done as your are doing. In the thousands of
years that I served him, he did not touch me" (Wake, p. 72) Daniel-as-Dream
balks at answering the question, but the alteration is clear. When his
errant brother, Destruction of the Endless, finally does show up, a
very different conversation is had between them than ever before:
DESTRUCTION:
I wasn't going to come and then I thought, sod it. I'll stop by,
give you a little advice. You've never been inclined to listen to
my advice in the past, but, well: Things change, don't they?
DREAM:
Yes, they do.
DESTRUCTION:
Wise lad. (Wake, p. 75)
Mutability,
Humanity, and Responsibility – these are what The Sandman series
is all about. They are the rich and juicy pulp of this watermelon
called The Kindly Ones. Is it learned, complex, straightforward,
funny, melancholy, and irresistibly humanizing? Certainly, but it is
also something more: it's true. Not true in the sense that it
actually happened. Of that I cannot be sure. But I feel like Puck as
he watched "A Midsummer Night's Dream" first performed: "The is magnificent
-- And it is true! It never happened; yet it is still true. What
magic art is this?" (Dream County, 3.13) About this Dream also
says that "things need not have happened to be true. Tales and dreams
are the shadow-truths that will endure when mere facts are dust and
ashes, and forgot" (3.21). Gaiman's The Sandman series does have
that touch of Puck's "magic art" to it. The fruit of his labors does
have truth to it that only a work of fiction might contain; it addresses
issues and emotions that the facts of our reality would gloss over and
neglect. And, if we as readers and humans have any sense at all, this
incredible series of brilliance will endure when much else is forgotten.
Even if it
is just a comic book.
In his book
DOOM PATROLS, Steve Shaviro slices the role of a comic book into
two neat factions:
[Comics]
are cheap commodities, printed in limited quantities on low-grade
paper, designed for rapid turnover and almost instantaneous obsolescence...Some
people buy new comics and encase them in plastic without even reading
them; they hope to sell them later for an enormous profit...The
mechanically reproduced object has two lives: one as an ephemeral
throw-away item, the other as a precious fetish. This also corresponds
to two ways that comics are consumed by their audience. On the one
hand, you need to leaf through them...it's precisely in this suspended
state that they become so strangely absorbing. On the other hand,
you need to go back over them, studying every word and every panel,
with a fanatical attention to detail. The letters pages of any comic
book are filled with the most minutely passionate comments and observations.
The letter-writers worry about inconsistencies and continuity errors,
express approval or disapproval of the characters, engage in lengthy
symbolic analyses, critique the artists' renderings, and make earnest
suggestions for future plot directions. In this way, these books
become interactive; as Marshall McLuhan was apparently the first
to note, comics are "a highly participational form of expression."
If my argument
has been stated eloquently enough, the following should be true: Comics
can be just as packed with aestheticism and intelligence as spandex
and fight-scenes. A world of incredible thought can (and often does)
exist within their format. If this has not become apparent to you as
my reader, then the fault is with my words, not the content
of the comics themselves. Their brilliance is profound and it's real.
And if I have been unable to display the amazing layers of WATCHMEN
and The Kindly Ones compellingly, I ask that you look to
read further essays on works such as MAUS, The Dark Knight Returns,
Kingdom Come, Uncle Scrooge, Sin City, Daredevil: Born Again,
The Spirit, or The Uncanny X-Men. They're all out there waiting
to be discovered by you.
But, if my
point has struck home, then there is a third existence to the comic
book not mentioned by Shaviro. Beyond being a "throw-away item" or "precious
fetish," I believe that a comics also exist as literary texts and that,
if institutions of education in America were wise, schools should embrace
these rich comics rather than discourage them along with their less-developed
brethren. When will academians accept the challenge that both I and
Frank McConnell lay before them?
As
soon as the academic critics get off their famously insensitive
butts – I work with them, so trust me, these guys would sleep
through the Second Coming – As soon as they get off their butts
and realize it's okay to admire a mere comic book, you'll
see dissertations, books, annotation galore on The Sandman,
and then on the great comic writers – Alan Moore, Frank Miller,
Wil Eisner, the list is so long – who were his "precursors."
When will other
authors and creative minds overcome the bias that Harlan Ellison reported
in his introduction to Seasons of Mist?
I
sat there…and watched with devilish pleasure as Neil won the
highly-prized FantasyCon "Howard Phillips Lovecraft" trophy for
the Year’s Best Short Story…an issue of The Sandman "comic
book." Devilish pleasure, I tell you, because all those artsy-fartsy
writers and artists and critics sitting there expecting a standard-print
short story to win, choked on their little almond cups as this renegade
funnybook guy carted off the Diamond as Big as the Ritz….the
Great Gray Eminences who run the FantasyCon from behind their nightshadow
veil of secrecy have rewritten the rules so that, heaven forfend,
no "comic book" will ever again be nominated, much less have an
opportunity to kick serious artistic butt.
I
have no answer other than the prediction that it will continue to be
a difficult battle. The fanboy audience of the monthly serials is whittled
away everyday by alternate mediums such as television, the Internet,
and movies. Harras even suggests that the resurgent popularity of pro
wrestling hurts the quantity of their fanbase even as critics attack
the quality – "Quite frankly, comics in the country have a very...'down-market'
connotation. Right now, we are limited." And if the month-to-month
business of comics book production is still on the defensive, trust
that the risky, highbrow projects like WATCHMEN or The Sandman
are going to be delayed further and further as the bottom-line dollar
becomes more essential.
Their fate
lies with the enlightened, those that know the potential power of a
graphic novel and will not let it go the way of the 8-track. If I have
succeeded with this paper then you have both a power and responsibility
to spread the gospel. By reading, by talking, by writing, or even by
thinking about comic books. The millennium is coming and after 100 years
of their existence the world may finally be ready to look at comic books
a second time, but only if people like you aid it in slouching towards
Universities to be reborn.
So, the call
goes out. You can be a hero. Do you accept the challenge? Will we accept
the responsibility?
Atkinson,
Douglas, ed. "The Annotated Watchmen" 1995.
Best
of Marvel Comics: Volume One. New York: Marvel Comics, 1987.
Brevoort,
Tom. "Re: Academic Research In Comic Book Medium - Help Requested."
E-mail to author. 19 February 1999.
Dworkin,
Ronald. "Law as Interpretation." Texas Law Review 60 (1982):
527-550.
Eisner,
Wil. Comics & Sequential Art. Tamarac: Poorhouse Press, 1998.
Gaiman,
Neil. Fables and Reflections. New York: DC Comics, 1993.
--.
The Doll's House. New York: DC Comics, 1995.
--.
Dream County. New York: DC Comics, 1995.
--.
The Kindly Ones. New York: DC Comics, 1996.
--.
Preludes and Nocturnes. New York: DC Comics, 1995
--.
Seasons of Mist. New York: DC Comics, 1992.
--.
The Wake. New York: DC Comics, 1997.
--.
World's End. New York: DC Comics, 1996.
Harras,
Bob. Telephone interview. 16 February 1999.
Jurgens,
Dan. "Re: Re: Re: Academic Research In Comic Book Medium - Help Requested."
E- mail to author. 26 Apr 1999.
Kelly,
Joseph. "Re: Re: Re: Academic Research In Comic Book Medium - Help Requested."
E- mail to author. 9 Apr 1999
Maggin,
Elliot S!. Introduction. Kingdom Come. By Mark Waid and Alex
Ross. New York: DC Comics, 1997.
McCloud,
Scott. Understanding Comics. New York: Harper Collins, 1993.
McConnell,
Frank. Introduction. The Kindly Ones. By Neil Gaiman. New York:
DC Comics, 1996.
Miller,
Frank. Afterword. Wolverine. By Chris Clarement and Frank Miller.
New York: Marvel Comics, 1987.
Moore,
Alan. Introduction. Batman: The Dark Knight Returns. By Frank
Miller. New York: DC Comics, 1986.
--.
WATCHMEN. New York: DC Comics, 1987.
Moulthrop,
Stuart. "Watching the Detectives." University of Baltimore. Spring 1999.
<http://raven.ubalt.edu/staff/moulthrop/hypertexts/wm/>
Nyberg,
Amy Kiste. Seal of Approval: The History of the Comics Code.
Jackson: University Press of Mississippi, 1998.
Panosian, Dan.
"Re: Academic Research In Comic Book Medium - Help Requested." E-mail
to author. 23 Feb 1999
Potts,
Carl. "Re: Academic Questions." E-Mail to the author. 12 February 1999.
Shaviro,
Steve. "Chapter 1: Grant Morrison." Doom Patrols. 1998.
<http://www.dhalgren.com/Doom/index.html>
Svitansky,
William. "Re: Watchmen Mirrory thing?" 29 Sep 1998. Online posting.
Newsgroup rec.arts.comics.dc.universe. Deja News. 29 Sep 1998.
Go to part 1.
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