GRAPHIC NOVEL and TRADE PAPERBACK (TPB) REVIEWS

The Sandman: The Doll's House 1990 (SC TPB) 232 pages

Written by Neil Gaiman. Pencils by Mike Dringenberg, and Chris Bachalo, Michael Zulli. Inks by Malcolm Jones III, with Steve Parkhouse.
Colours: Robbie Busch. Letters: Todd Klein, John Costanza. Editor: Karen Berger.

Reprinting: The Sandman (1980s series) #9-16

Rating: * * * * (out of 5)

Number of readings: 1

Recommended for Mature Readers

Additional notes: intro by Clive Barker and Neil Gaiman; covers

Published by Vertigo/DC Comics

I thought I read somewhere that an earlier edition of this TPB included issue #8 -- perhaps the Doll's House was originally collected before DC decided to collect the entire series starting from issue #1. But I'm not sure about that.

This is the second volume collecting Neil Gaiman's critically acclaimed series. The Sandman -- Morpheus -- is literally the lord of dreams, and one of a pantheon of immortals Gaiman envisions that are neither humans nor gods, but knows as the "endless" -- comprising (among others) Death, Desire and, of course, Dream. The series is unusual in that Gaiman approaches it with a kind of anything goes formula -- ranging from whimsical fantasy, to grisly horror; sometimes Morpheus is little more than a supporting character -- other times, he takes centre stage.

Although this contains a couple of stand alone stories, the body of The Doll's House is one sprawling saga -- albeit, one comprised of various loosely connected threads that form their own stories. Rose Walker is a young woman who, after meeting the grandmother she never knew, is sent off to find her (Rose's) brother who she hasn't seen in years (the kids having been divided during a bitter custody dispute). She takes a room in a Florida boarding house, peopled by eccentric inhabitants, while she tries to find her brother...unaware that he is kept locked in a basement by abusive, distant relatives. That's in our world. On the supernatural level, Morpheus sets out to find some denizens of the Dreaming who escaped to reality during his decades long incarceration (depicted in the first volume, Preludes and Nocturnes, and conveniently recapped in the introduction). As well, a "vortex" is building which, we are told, threatens the Dreaming itself. The stories involving the various escaped Dream creatures intertwine with that of Rose and her search for her brother -- the most fearsome of the escapees beingg The Corinthian, a nightmare being who has manifested himself as a grisly serial killer.

Along the way, more is gleaned of Morpheus' higher reality, as we meet one or two of his siblings and fellow demi-gods.

Reading the original Sandman TPB, Preludes and Nocturnes, after years of hearing the series' praise, I had mixed reactions to it. I thought it was O.K., but it didn't quite live up to the hype. This second volume is somewhat stronger. Perhaps that is because it's a longer story, allowing it to seem more like a "novel", introducing ideas at the beginning that then, are delivered on by the end. It also benefits from that narrative quirk that, though not unique to comics, is nonetheless more common to them than to other mediums: the idea of shaping a big story out of littler ones. As one story thread ends, it leads us into the next one that is, nonetheless, built on what's gone before. It also allows one to forgive when stories, stretched over a few issues, resolve rather simply (because Morpheus is pretty well all-powerful). You can forgive it because each story seems like only part of a greater whole.

Gaiman has a good sense of telling a scene, crafting interesting, largely plausible dialogue and quirky situations. He has to juggle the "reality" of the human characters (even as they find themselves in decidedly unusual situations) with the strange, esoteric existence of Morpheus and his brethren -- a separate, surreal reality that, nonetheless, must adhere to its own fictional coherence.

The art, largely by Mike Dringenberg, is effective at capturing both, with a loose, scratchy, but still believable style. The guest artists on a couple of issues are also mostly effective.

The Sandman doesn't really settle on one tone or mood or genre from issue to issue, but it is often a horror series. I say that because in my review of Preludes and Nocturnes I criticize Gaiman's violence, and suggest that it's curious how series like The Sandman, we are told, are more mature, more sophisticated, than crass super hero comics...and yet they seem to revel in their violence even more. But recognizing that this is meant to be horror (at least at times) perhaps mutes my argument. Gaiman isn't trying to present a "realistic" series, dealing seriously with violence and its repercussions...it's as much fantasy and fiction as any men-in-tights adventure. A mid-story sequence -- and a double-sized issue -- that takes place at a convention of serial killers is not, really, meant to be taken at face value (I don't suppose Gaiman really thinks there are such things, nor that there actually are enough serial killers in America to attend one). But what it is meant to be is, at once, creepy and also darkly satirical as Rose and a friend innocently take rooms for the night while the convention is going on, having no idea what a "Cereal Convention" entails.

Although the series overall is something that generally makes the list of "if you don't like comics, you might still like this", Gaiman still ties it in with DC Comics continuity. Not in a way that, perhaps, renders the thing incoherent for a general reader, but in a way that might make things a bit confusing here and there. In the 1970s, Joe Simon and Jack Kirby created a costumed super hero, The Sandman, who lived in the world of dreams. Here, Gaiman tries to work that earlier version into one of his story lines, but it can leave you a bit bewildered about the details (particularly when this isn't that Sandman, but a successor, Hector Hall...and I had to go on-line to figure out who he was). Indeed, the little boy in this story, Jed, was apparently a character from that 1970s comic (and joins the list of modern era stories that give gritty, unpleasant spins to old, kinder, gentler stories).

Gaiman (and artist Gringenberg) also work in some pop references, like depicting Jed's dreams in a manner that is a homage to the classic early 20th Century comic strip, Little Nemo in Slumberland, by Winsor McKay.

The stand alone stories are effective. The opening one, as an African tribesman relates a fable (about Morpheus), shows just how diverse are the stories Gaiman intends to tell in this series. As does the other tale, for that matter. It's inserted in the middle of The Doll's House saga (perhaps Gringenberg was having trouble meeting the deadlines, so Gaiman and guest artist Mike Zulli threw this in to give him a break). It tells a tale of how Death decides to grant a man his wish of immortality, and Morpheus, curious, meets with him every hundred years to see how he's getting along. Neither are horror, which relates to my point about the variety of material Gaiman engages in.

I'm still not an uncritical convert to The Sandman, but I did enjoy this and consider it a solid read, and am even more inclined to read further volumes (granted, I got it from the library, so it cost me nothing). Well written at times, and twisty in its narrative threads, the very length of the saga, following the various intertwining story threads, keeps one turning pages. And Morpheus himself is a problematic hero, at times portrayed as moral, and noble, at other times, more mercurial and pragmatic, so that you can't always like the guy.

Still, this more clearly establishes why the series is so well regarded.

Cover price: $32.95 CDN./ $19.95 USA.