Anansi Boys: A Novel

First things first: even though they share a character, Neil Gaiman's new novel, Anansi Boys, is not a sequel to his bestselling American Gods. This is good news for those Gaiman fans who were disappointed by American Gods -- or at the very least, don't feel it was his finest hour.

Second things second: Anansi Boys has nothing to do with The Sandman, the comic series (collected in perennially bestselling graphic novel editions) that established Gaiman as arguably the best fantasist of our time.

Anansi Boys is its own work, independent of and not entirely like (yet not completely dissimilar from) anything else Gaiman has written. In some ways, it strikes me as an amalgam of the stronger ingredients from his other works: the mythical elements of Sandman, the breezy narrative and uptight protagonist of Neverwhere, the brisk humor of Good Omens, the folktale digressions of American Gods (as well as Mr. Nancy, who makes his first published appearance in that novel), and... well, it really doesn't have much in common with Stardust, I guess, except that it's equally likely to please Gaiman's faithful readers in a manner that's wholly new and surprising.

Much has been made of the novel's tricky genre definitions. In his preface to the publisher's galleys, Gaiman himself calls Anansi Boys a "magical-horror-thriller-ghost-romantic-comedy-family-epic" -- which is probably close enough. One of the pleasures of the novel, however, is its steadfast refusal to be typecast. Yes, it has comic elements, but at a crucial point in the novel the plot takes a dark, unexpected, and thrilling turn that opens up new realms of possibilities -- and yet, even after this shift, the story maintains a brisk feel and offers genuine laughs. It's a delicate balancing act that Gaiman expertly pulls off.

What I'll reveal of the plot is that it involves Charles Nancy, a mild-mannered office drone who was nicknamed "Fat Charlie" years earlier by his father, known only as Mr. Nancy; the name has stuck even though Charlie is no longer fat. Fat Charlie's father is the cause of a great many frustrations in Charlie's life, especially when he dies on a karaoke stage in the middle of a song. Fat Charlie attends the funeral, where he learns a number of surprising things, not the least of them being that he has a brother he's never known about before, named Spider.

Suffice it to say, this being a Neil Gaiman story, that all is not as it seems. Gods will be involved. Magic will be used. Romance will happen, but in unexpected ways. And throughout, there will be a terrifically dry, witty prose that feels like an exceedingly clever fellow on a par with P. G. Wodehouse or Evelyn Waugh is sitting next to you in a wingback chair, reciting the entire tale:

There must be a hundred thousand respectable ways to die. Leaping off a bridge into a river to save a small child from drowning, for example, or being mown down in a hail of bullets while single-handedly storming a nest of criminals. Perfectly respectable ways to die.

Truth to tell, there were even some less than respectable ways to die that wouldn't have been so bad. Spontaneous human combustion, for example: it's medically dodgy and scientifically unlikely, but even so, people persist in going up in smoke, leaving nothing behind but a charred hand still clutching an unfinished cigarette.

Gaiman has populated his story with memorable, if flawed, characters, beginning with Fat Charlie, a perfect straight man. Even if you haven't read Neverwhere, it's clear from the first glimpse of him that Fat Charlie is going to undergo quite a transformation -- and when his secret is finally revealed (even if sharper readers maybe guessed it a little ahead of the revelation), it is almost as satisfying as watching the prissy, uptight Fat Charlie get trapped in one complication after the next. His brother, Spider, is the character we'd all probably most like to resemble: the cool kid who snaps his fingers and everything just happens for him. They make an impressive comic team, and Anansi Boys shines brightest when Gaiman throws these two together and then, quite often, pits them against each other.

Of the rest of the cast, which is strong indeed, the strongest is probably Grahame Coats, Fat Charlie's boss, whose wordy onslaughts of doublespeak reminded me at times of a more sinister version of Ricky Gervais's character from the BBC series The Office. And even if the conceit of the priggish fiancée seems overly familiar from Neverwhere, Gaiman handles Fat Charlie's betrothed, Rosie, with great aplomb -- and her domineering mother with just the right splash of venom.

This being a comedy, each character is somewhat broad -- such is the nature of the genre. This will appeal to some and repel others. But even those who initially resist Gaiman's approach may find much to enjoy later in the book, when it starts to take a number of twists and turns, delving into darker and more serious territory. It's a testament to Gaiman's storytelling skills that he manages to keep the book from flying off the tracks while shifting mood and tone.

Anansi Boys is Neil Gaiman's best novel yet. It may lack the epic scope of American Gods, but page for page it provides a higher level of satisfaction. This is Gaiman at his wittiest, most uninhibited; we feel the author having fun with his creations, and the sensation is infectious. Filled to the brim with strong characters and a personable narration as entertaining and off the cuff as the voice Gaiman uses in his online journal, Anansi Boys is pure reading pleasure.

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