Neil Gaiman is an author I've always felt ought to be right up my alley. A writer revered by geeks, with a sense of humour, who's written for Doctor Who – what's not to like? What's more, I'm a fan of his Who contributions. That is, "The Doctor's Wife" is a great deal better than "Nightmare in Silver", which (I agree with everyone else here) got the Cybermen wrong. Nevertheless, the latter episode has highlights too, such as an atmospheric setting, a surprisingly loyal punishment platoon and the character Porridge, whose story of how a whole galaxy was blown up just to halt the Cybermen's invasion has stuck in my mind: all those lives lost, and the person he pities most is the poor blighter who had to push the button.
Maybe, though, my appreciation of the great Gaiman has been marred by the expectation that he should be right up my alley. When a TV series he's involved in doesn't hook me right away, I'm more disappointed than if the same script had been written by some random, unknown fantasy writer. Consequently, I make fewer allowances, and give up more easily, maybe a bit too easily. I haven't seen more than two episodes of Good Omens, though I'm continually telling myself I will watch the rest some day. As for The Sandman, I gave up after four episodes and will probably not watch the rest as, unlike Good Omens, it was Very Serious throughout (also, the Sandman himself is annoying). In both TV series, Gaiman mines Christian lore with an insouciance that makes me fidget – especially when things get brimstone-related – and (a related source of discomfort, this), he can go very dark at times.
My track record with Gaiman's books is better. I read and enjoyed his Norse Mythology (why "Norse" though, this Swede has to ask?), which actually taught me a lot, and me a Scandinavian. And now, lately, I've read Neverwhere, which is where the urban fantasy comes in. I did get properly into it, eventually. But it took a while.
Now, don't get me wrong. Getting through the first part of the novel was not a hardship. Gaiman is a very good writer, and as a reader you feel you're in safe hands. His sense of humour shines through, even when things are serious; thankfully, there's none of the dourness of The Sandman about Neverwhere. Nevertheless, through a large part of the book I felt more attracted to the idea of a secret realm hidden under the streets of London than Gaiman's description of it.
The hero of the novel, Richard Mayhew, has his world turned upside down when he helps an injured girl called Door (to all appearances a down-and-out) and misses an important dinner with his fiancée and her boss in the process. His fiancée dumps him, but that is the least of his problems. Suddenly, without knowing why, he loses his foothold on reality, and he realises he has to find Door again if he is to have any chance of getting his life back. With a bit of luck, he manages to make his way into London Below – where Door comes from –, locate her and join her and her small band of associates in a quest to find out who killed her family.
Sounds exciting, right? Especially as in London Below, many London landmarks and underground stations have a more literal meaning, which is fun not only for Londoners but for enthusiastic London tourists like me. There is, for instance, a real Earl's Court, and an order of Black Friars plays an important part in the proceedings. The problem for me is that London Below, though a place of adventure, is also decidedly down-at-heel. Its inhabitants may be familiar with strange and magical things, but square meals and nice clothes are in short supply.
In Gaiman's Introduction, he talks about two goals he had with Neverwhere. He wanted "to write a book that would do for adults what the books I had loved when younger, books like Alice in Wonderland, or the Narnia books, or The Wizard of Oz, did for me as a kid." But he also wanted to "talk about the people who fall through the cracks". Now, it's a bit tricky to pull off both these goals at once. There's a limit to how Narnia-like a magic realm that's also a metaphor for homelessness can get.
For the first half of the book, I actually thought that Gaiman managed his worthy talking-about-the dispossessed-goal better than the getting-away-to-a-magic-land goal. The description of how Richard helplessly watches as his old life disintegrates, while nobody pays any attention to him, was a clever way of showing what slipping through the cracks might feel like. But as for the magic wardrobe feeling, classic fantasy realms like Wonderland and Narnia – though filled with their own problems and danger – are actually places you would like to visit (albeit perhaps not for long). They are also distinctly separate from the everyday. I couldn't help thinking of the Epic Rap Battle on YouTube between George R.R. Martin and J.R.R. Tolkien where the latter points out: "News flash: the genre's called fantasy. It's meant to be unrealistic, you myopic manatee!"
For all that, Gaiman's style is captivating, his characters are colourful and the world building is impressive; it's amazing it was all done for a single book (and a TV series, admittedly). I was sufficiently swept away by the story to savour the "what?! Nooo" moments, and by the end I wanted Richard to stay put with Door. Mind you, more because I shipped them than because I suddenly found London Below entrancing. If urban fantasy is always this gritty, I might be better off sticking to the fairy-tale-based kind, for the most part at least. Mind you, if there's ever a sequel to Neverwhere, I'll read it.
