Job Chapter 25

We Need to Talk About Neil Gaiman

Bildad's last chapter is nonsense -

1. Bildad the Shuhite answered and said:

2. Dominion and fear are with Him; He makes peace in high places

3. Can any count his armies and upon whom does his light not shine?

4. How can a man be righteous before G-d; Can anyone born of a woman be clean?

5. Not even the moon is shiny nor the stars clean in his sight

6. How much less man who is a maggot and son of man who is a worm?

That's it. That's the whole chapter. Like Neil Gaiman, Bildad isn't even trying. He's just playing the hits. Of course, many get stuck in their ways. You see it all the time on social media. Most are tedious; Neil Gaiman's inertia is tragic. The man who gave the world Sandman should not be throwing out barely-different-than-a-Wikipedia-article dreck like Norse Mythology.

Neil Gaiman's laziness is on full display with Good Omens season 2. The season is largely forgettable beyond giving John Hamm some comedic moments and playing into the Crowley/Aziraphale fan-fiction. To make matters worse, Gaiman gives Job the ever tedious “it was all a test ” interpretation. Gaiman has Crowley pretend to be Bildad so he can turn Job's children into lizards and turn them back into cute little moppets after Job “passes” the test. Why bother grappling with sorrow and the meaning of pain, when you can just say “G-d is mean in this story, but everything worked out for the best”?

No one knows when Bildad stopped caring, but Neil Gaiman's development as a writer and a human being ended with American Gods., his magnum opus tackled religion, American history, immigration and multiple mythologies. The reviews were mostly positive but mixed. Since 2001, Gaiman has churned out interchangeable novels and forgettable short stories, living off his reputation. Should anyone be surprised that he's a sex pest?

When Gaiman was an Hungry Young Writer

The Sandman was the most exciting mainstream comic book since Stan Lee and Jack Kirby revived superheroes. After Watchmen and The Dark Knight Returns, few comic book fans wanted to go back to mutants punching each other. Independent classics like Love & Rockets had cult followings but too many characters for new readers. Even though DC and Marvel were experimenting with war comics like The Nam and horror comics like Hellraiser, superheroes were still the norm.

Sandman #1 was a shock. In 41 pages, Neil Gaiman gives us the tale of an Aleister Crowley magician trying to capture Death during WWI and the fallout when he captures Death's brother Dream (or Morpheus) instead. As Morpheus endures decades of incarceration at the hands of the magician and then the magician's son, the 20^th century unfolds in terror and confusion. At several points, Gaiman references classic DC characters like Golden Age Sandman until finally the son accidentally frees Dream and pays a horrible price.

No one expected to read this kind of story in a comic book, much less DC. Since the protagonist is both the king of Dreams and a literal manifestation of dreaming, the comic book could go anywhere. In 75 issues, Sandman drew upon sources as diverse as Greek mythology, 1970s DC horror comics, Suetonius, Arabian Nights and Shakespeare. In a genre saturated with power fantasies and semi-naked women posing sexy, Gaiman wrote Sandman for adults - both men and women. It could be scary, heartfelt, surprising and incredibly funny.

Notable stories included “The Sound of Her Wings” (#8) where Gaiman finally introduces Dream's sister, Death, and she's a happy goth who approaches the newly deceased with kindness. In The Season of Mists, Lucifer closes Hell and gives the Key to Morpheus. Some of the better stories barely included Morpheus, including A Game of You, where several misfits attempt to deal with the unraveling psyche of a woman whose dreams have been invaded by a cuckoo. “Ramadan” (#50) is an Arabian Nights tale that reflected modern politics as a king begged Morpheus to turn Baghdad into a dream to live on past its Golden Age. The issue ends with Iraqis scrounging through a bombed out Baghdad. My Minnesota friends loved “The Wake, An Epilogue” (#73) because it took place at the Minnesota Renaissance Festival complete with the Blue Lion Tavern, the insult comic and Steve Brust wandering past Hob Gadling. I was less impressed since I had worked at the place for five seasons and Hob Gadling is one of those customers who won't shut up about historical inaccuracies.

It wasn't always perfect. Who plays Tori Amos at a BDSM orgy? The one transwoman dies tragically in a trope that was stale even in the 1990s. Morpheus often acted more like an angstty teenager than an immortal. Despite its faults, no comic book series was as groundbreaking. DC has been chasing that lightning in a bottle for years, with spinoff titles like Dead Boy Detectives and The Dreaming. Gaiman has even written one shot stories in the Sandman universe.

Besides Sandman, Gaiman was writing classic stories in other DC tiles, including one with Riddler as the last super-villain left who doesn't murder people. In Hellraiser, he writes John Constantine dealing kindly with a homeless ghost. Black Orchard and Books of Magic were brilliant miniseries. When he wrote Good Omens with Terry Pratchett, he automatically doubled his audience. His audience discovered Pratchett. Both writers went from cult writers to major forces in literature.

More importantly, Neil Gaiman loved to go to signings. He was friendly. He'd talk to everyone. He'd gossip about possible Sandman movie projects. He'd listen to jokes. He'd doodle on comic book covers. He'd even answer questions that sounded like story pitches. Science Fiction Conventions loved to invite him as a Guest of Honor, because he'd draw in the big crowds. He wrote for television including Neverwhere and one of the better Babylon 5 episodes.

Then came American Gods. At the time, it seemed like he was going from strength to strength, applying his massive talents to fantasy that didn't slavishly imitate Tolkien. In retrospect, it was the final great book in a short and distinguished career.

The Lazy Years

In the 2000s, Hollywood finally found Gaiman, first with obscure movies like Mirrormask and How to Talk to Girls at Parties, then with more mainstream fare like Stardust and Coraline. Sadly, Gaiman's writing hit a wall. In Mirrormask, a young girl stumbles into a magic dangerous world that she survives through courage and inner strength. In Coraline, a young girl sumbles into a magic dangerous land that she survives through courage and inner strength. In Neverwhere, a bored businessman stumbles into a dangerous magic world, etc., etc.

His short stories became clever but dull. The same writer who wrote the haunting “Snow, Glass, Apples” churned out forgettable stories that relied so heavily on cool ideas that they forget to tell actual stories. What if Cthulu took over London in Sherlock Holmes time? What if a teenage boy goes to a party and flirts with girls who are really aliens? What if Sleeping Beauty rescued herself? Not a whole lot. He knew that he could slap his name on his shopping list and someone would buy it, so why bother telling actual stories?

His essays are even more regrettable. “George R.R. Martin is not Your Bitch” is a pathetic attempt to cover for a shameless procrastinator. “Why We Need Libraries” is full of wisdom like “books feel good in your hand.” No wonder he got an illustrator to make his glib little sentences seem deep and profound.

Perhaps it's unfair to criticize Master Class since writers are the last people to tell you how to write a great novel or play or short story. Writers know how they write, but no one method works for everyone. The only reason to take a writing class is to write for an audience, challenge your current methodology and get feedback. You won't get that out of Neil Gaiman sitting in his room going “you should have the courage to write what you feel” and “if you want to get better at world-building, look around you and pay attention to details.” You can't blame Neil for not caring, unless you realize that people actually paid for his bullshit.

Sex Pest

“How you ain't gon' fuck? Bitch I'm Me/ I'm the goddamn reason you in V.I.P.”

- Jean Paul Sartre

Bildad thinks his arguments are working, so he's confused when Job rejects them. Neil Gaiman thinks that he's still the cute rock star writer, so he's confused when his old conquests come forward with stories of abuse. At the height of his career, he knew that he could meet eager sex partners at signings. At conventions, he'd ask for young female assistants. He'd jump into the bathtub with his nanny because why else would she take the job? Throughout his career, eager women wanted to fuck Neil Gaiman, just like some women want to fuck the bass player.

Unfortunately for many, Gaiman stopped asking permission. Too many women wanted him, so why worry about consent/ Many of the women coming forward had mixed feelings because they did want Gaiman, but they didn't want to do everything. Gaiman didn't care about their feelings or their pain or pleasure. No matter his age, they were always in their early 20s. He kept getting older and they stayed the same. He had been getting away with fucking groupies any way he wanted for years. He just couldn't wrap his head around the fact that a young woman wasn't overjoyed with surprise anal sex.

As Bildad fades into silence, Neil Gaiman's reputation fades into disrepute. Bildad and Neil Gaiman are both tedious clowns who stopped growing years ago. Which one is a sadder? Bildad was always a fool, but Neil Gaiman was once great. I guess Gaiman is more frustrating. Bildad is just pathetic.

I could still use work, so if you have a manuscript to edit or a personal statement that needs writing, please

My friend is still going through Hell because he is the only one who can take care of his mother and she’s having a terrible time. Please donate to his gofundme. Even $5 will help.

My favorite Sandman story is A Game of You. Buy it.

Finally, I also publish books like Rashi by Maurice Liber.

Job Chapter 24 ————————— Job Chapter 26