American Gods

I'm about a third of the way through American Gods by Neil Gaiman. This is good stuff so far. Rachel and I devoured Good Omens in about a week total, so we'd been itching for this one. Gaiman's just the bee's knees. I think I like his books better than his comics, er, "graphic novels" as the author bio in the back says. That's funny, "graphic novels" don't usually come out every month. Sounds like Gaiman's got some issues, pun intended.

It's fun reading. An ex-con with a penchant for coin tricks is hired by the Norse god Odin to be his muscle. The gods of ancient immigrant cultures are real and live amongst us in the U.S., but they're mostly burnouts and losers. Roadside tourist traps like giant twine balls and the House on the Rock are "places of power", the American equivalent of Stonehenge or the Pyramids. That explains the hell out of the Mystery Spot.

There's a good bit in the book about how Americans are the only people who think to look for the "soul" of their country, who worry about what America is. People in Norway and Mozambique, to paraphrase the book, don't need to go searching for the heart of Norway, or the soul of Mozambique. "They know what they are," as Mr. Wednesday says. I wonder what is it about America that's never quite reconciled itself with its people? Why we have this need to understand, not just where America came from or is going (and few feel the need to know that, if you believe statistics), but to understand WHY America is? Maybe it's because we all have the wanderlust of our immigrant ancestors, who believed that America was the land of milk and honey. Maybe we're all just trying to find that lost corner of the country that fits the description in the tour guide.

So this book's got me feeling like a road trip. I guess I just haven't seen enough of this country yet.