American Gods #9 review: A $20 Ticket Out of Here

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Reviewing American Gods #9.

Thanks to his work on Sandman–a seminal work of singular greatness and importance, which, if you haven’t experienced already, you should read immediately even if it comes at the expense of finishing this article–Neil Gaiman has been regarded as comic royalty for quite some time, and his collection of award-winning novels and children’s books have turned him into something of a literary rock star.

Yet, it’s been the STARZ channel’s recent adaption of his Hugo and Nebula-winning book, American Gods that has thrust him into the national consciousness. The show has proven to be a critical and commercial success for a writer who seems to be coming into his prime as far as his cultural impact and influence are concerned.

Released with significantly less fanfare but met with no less favorable a reception, has been an accompanying comic book adaptation headed by former Gaiman collaborators P. Craig Russel and Scott Hampton, which offers a classic Gaiman feel but brings new dimensions to the same source material that inspired the television show.

Issue nine picks up with Shadow already at work with the enigmatic funeral directors Ibis and Jacquel, the modern-day Americanized versions of the Egyptian gods Thoth and Anubis. The visual representations pop immediately, with both characters having charming, but subtlety bestial features that make them memorable and call to their true natures without being obtuse.

Shadow finds work with Ibis and Jacquel. Credit: Hampton and Russell (Dark Horse Comics)

The novel American Gods is an embarrassment of riches in terms of cleverness and sly references, and the comic holds true to this, presenting the characters and story in inventive ways that are always left of center, but right on the mark in regards to the spirit of the original text.

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As great as the show is, the medium is somewhat limiting in terms of its capacity for nuance, an impairment the comic book doesn’t share. Much as Gaiman does in the novel, Hampton and Russell present the fantastic in understated ways that perpetually teeter between old world reverence and new world realism, injecting terror and tragedy, warmth and fancy, with a visual style simultaneously straightforward and mysterious, allowing them to depict extraordinary events in ordinary settings with a deftness that never outpaces human emotion.

The issue also features the death of Mad Sweeney, who borrows $20 for a ticket “out of here,” which he uses to buy a bottle of Irish whiskey that he drinks in the freezing cold. A fan favorite character, Sweeney’s vagabond representation couldn’t be further from his somewhat ostentatious portrayal on the STARZ adaptation. Shadow too seems downplayed when compared to the slick, hyper-attractive version of the grifter brought to life by actor Ricky Whittle, and the reader gets the impression that the gods of the comic walk in a slightly more subdued world than the slick, neon setting of the TV show.

In fact, it becomes clear just a few pages in that this vision of American Gods is entirely authentic, unaffected by the commercial success of its televised sibling. Which is no accident, according to EW.com.

"“We’re completely ignoring what’s going on the other side of the wall,” says Russell, who scripts the comic series and comes up with layouts for Hampton to illustrate. “I was in the same situation when I was adapting Neil’s Coraline. They were working on the animated version at the same time. There was no way I could look at it, because I didn’t want that cross-pollination of ideas.”"

Indeed, Mad Sweeney’s wake, which occurs near the end of the issue, is handled with such plaintive care that its hard to imagine the scene taking place any other way. Like much of this series, the rendition is both wholly unique yet painstakingly loyal to the source material–a parallel dream of shadowing and soft colors that expands alongside the original, fulfilling its promise yet expanding and exploring in new and unexpected directions.

It’s this independent imagining of Gaiman’s shared vision that makes this series rewarding and appealing.

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If you are unfamiliar with the novel or the show–once again, stop what you are doing and correct your error, you’ll thank me, I promise–the comic book is a wonderful place to begin exploring one of Gaiman’s most enduring works. But even for those who have memorized every line of the novel or show, American Gods the comic provides enough wonder to make the epic tale feel new again. Believe.