Fragile Things: Short Fictions and Wonders (Neil Gaiman)

Genre: Short stories (with the occasional poem)
Year Published: 2006

Congratulations to the inimitable Neil Gaiman for being the first male author here at The Bluestocking's Blog. I do want to bring the spotlight to women as much as possible, but I couldn't pass up Gaiman's new book, Fragile Things. I let myself read it as an antidote, if you will, to Possession. (Not that I didn't like Possession immensely . . . but after 555 pages of thick prose and Victorian-style poetry, some clear-headed short stories feel like an oasis.) So as you read this review, keep in mind that I'm a Gaiman addict (I've even seen him in person and waited for ages to get him to sign books).

In my mind, there are two kinds of short stories: satisfying short stories, and New Yorker short stories. Deep down, I know this is an oversimplification of the matter, but stay with me: the stories that are published in places like the New Yorker are always character studies about ennui and/or divorce and/or seedy sex. (My favorite example of this is a Murakami story in which a man spends a year eating noodles and not returning his ex-roommate's ex-girlfriend's phone calls -- I acknowledge the man's genius, but good gravy.) You feel sort of empty at the end, and like you didn't really want this window into these poor people's lives.

Gaiman's short stories, on the other hand, fall into the "satisfying" camp, though perhaps not for the most obvious of reasons. Each story incorporates some element of the fantastical, though I don't think you could label any of them as a "ghost story" or "zombie story" or the like. They are, first and foremost, real works of literary merit. If the main character happens to be the archetypal Harlequin, or if the setting is Hell, well . . . the point is believing in the story, not believing the story is comprised of facts.

The stories are not satisfying because they end happily (quite the contrary, in fact); they are satisfying because Gaiman always provides a real narrative with tricky questions that are at least partially answered by story's end. He does not deliberately deceive his readers, though he may play with misdirection from time to time. His two objectives seem to be 1) to make your skin crawl and 2) to give you a beginning, middle, and end that do not leave you feeling cheated.

As for the negatives, well . . . to be honest, I'm not much of a horror fan, and many of his stories stray strongly in that direction. My favorite tales in this collection are the ones that are eerie, but not so gory: "A Study in Emerald" (a Sherlock Holmes/Cthulhu Mythos crossover, believe it or not), "Forbidden Brides of the Faceless Slaves in the Secret House of the Night of Dread Desire" (a Gothic satire), "The Problem of Susan" (a peek into Susan of Narnia's future), and "Goliath" (a story in the Matrix universe). There are others that, while I appreciate their brilliance as stories, I simply can't declare any affection for (the one about the witch who devours live animals and people bit by bit, the one about the boys who disappear into a shed and are never seen again, etc.)

There is also some poetry in here, but it's not really worth mentioning. It's entertaining enough, but it's not . . . poetry. It's prose with line breaks.

In short, Gaiman is a magnificent writer, but this should not be the first thing of his that you read. He seems to exorcise his demons via short story; for lighter fare, try Anansi Boys; for more profound, try the Sandman collection; for something approximating regular old literature, try American Gods. Attempt this collection only after trying -- and liking -- one or more of the above.

(Sidenote for those who've already read American Gods: the cap on this collection is a novella set two years after it ends. "The Monarch of the Glen," as it is titled, was nice inasmuch as it let us get a little more time with Shadow, but I didn't love it. Maybe a better background in Norse mythology would have helped me out, but while Gaiman usually stays just this side of the line between "mysterious" and "confounding," "The Monarch of the Glen" was . . . confounding, sadly. In a regular short story about a nameless narrator, I wouldn't have minded, but I want more exposition when I'm dealing with a character I'm quite attached to.)

Recommended? Yes, though I wouldn't necessarily spring for the hardback. Wait for it to come out in paperback; read a story or two in the store; see if you want to own it. Unless you're a Gaiman completist, like me, you may feel more than satisfied with taking it out of the library.