A long, long time ago in a city far, far away (New York City…well, Bronxville to be precise) something truly life-changing happened*. It was 1996 and I was on my second solo trip to New York City to visit my friend Scott, a trip full of adventure. It was the first and sadly only time I kept a really detailed journal of a trip. One of the many things that happened during that trip was that I was introduced to Neil Gaiman’s comic book series, The Sandman. I had not read comics since I was a kid and had no idea that there was a world of comic books for grown ups. Wow.
If you have seen the beautiful French film Amelie** (and if you have not, you really should) then you no doubt recall the scene in which the Audrey Tautou, in the title role, wisks a blind man rapidly down the street, matching her pace with a torrent of words in an attempt to paint a picture for the gentleman of the life taking place around him. As she leaves him outside the train station he gazes heavenward with a look of euphoria, flashes of light and color radiate from his very being. That is how I felt as I read through the Sandman series (the final issue, #75, had just been released). I had a similar experience a year later in another city far away (Tulsa, Oklahoma) when I walked into a Borders bookstore and saw the cover pictured above facing me from the New Releases shelf. More accurately, I had that feeling upon coming home and devouring the novel.
I imagine that we each have a book (or two, or three) that has opened up worlds to us. A book that feels as if it were written solely for you because it reads as if it was drawn directly out of your imagination, your passions, your dreams. Neverwhere was…is…that kind of book for me. One of my frequent childhood fantasies was to fall through a crack into the world below to experience adventures akin to those had by Richard Mayhew, the Lady Door, the Marquis de Carabas and the rest of the menagerie in Neverwhere. I fell for this story and fell hard. I know I read it several times in a row and have read it many more times over the ensuing years. When asked I quickly declare that Dracula by Bram Stoker is my all-time favorite novel, and that Neverwhere is second.
So is it really that spectacular of a novel?
