Friday, 22 January 2016 06:36 pm
Book Review: Good Omens
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deckardcanineHad it really been more than two years since my last reading of Terry Pratchett? And more than half a year since my first full Neil Gaiman novel? Well, the time was ripe to continue my exposure, and I'm happy to say that this early collaboration of theirs (neither especially famous yet) shows signs of both their styles and strengths. They actually couldn't agree later who wrote what -- and suspect that the project developed a mind of its own.
Published in 1990, it seems to have a millenarian implication, albeit with tongue firmly in cheek. The forces of both heaven and hell are preparing for an 11-year-old Antichrist to launch a war between them. One catch: The Omen-like hospital switcheroo got more complicated than the Satanists had planned, and only near Apocalypse time does the truth come out that they've focused on the wrong kid. Mind you, even without the intended upbringing, the Antichrist (Adam Young) can exercise extreme powers, so nobody's writing off an imminent Apocalypse yet.
Adam forms a gang with three other kids, who become notorious in their otherwise sleepy hometown. But to us, they come across as mostly harmless scamps, with moralities about par for their age. Even Adam's secret hellhound becomes a real cutie.
There are several other focal characters, many with names much less common than "Adam Young." A nebbish named Newt Pulsifer joins old grump Shadwell's pathetic so-called Witchfinder Army for a job. Anathema Device makes a business of interpreting her ancestor Agnes Nutter's befuddled prophecies. The Four Horsemen -- among the most disturbing aspects of the book, despite the incarnation of Death coming straight out of Discworld -- slowly come together but then quickly make their journey to the appointed destination.
My personal favorite is the main demon, Crowley (formerly Crawly, the Eden serpent), who sounded fit for a Robert Downey, Jr. role even before I read his human form description. According to the playbill-style cast page, he didn't so much fall as drift vaguely downward. He enjoys a lot of luxury, thanks in part to defying physics so he never has to, say, change the oil in his beloved Bentley. Most of his modern troublemaking consists of creating minor nuisances for lots of people at once, like traffic jams, tho old-school demons don't appreciate how much this accomplishes. Despite setting things up for the Apocalypse, he's not actually looking forward to it and the resulting eternal heaven or hell, because he's grown to love Earth. After his accidental mixup, he fears punishment but also sees hope for averting, or at least delaying, the end.
Aziraphale the angel, by contrast, flakes on modernity and sometimes betrays his age with references to things from long ago. He certainly takes interest in old books, having opened a used-book store but never selling if he can help it. He too doesn't look forward to the world ending. In fact, he and Crowley have become fair-weather friends after six millennia of half-hearted opposition. They make an interesting pair.
Yeah, this is the main way the book gets irreverent: The angels aren't entirely good, the demons aren't entirely bad, and sometimes there seems a fine line between them. Each side gets surpassed by humans on both counts. If you envision Dogma as a book and subtract most of the grossness, you won't be far off from how it feels. At least we don't learn much about God beyond his "ineffability."
I consider it as funny as Guards! Guards!, with more immersion, thanks probably to Gaiman. That said, I also blame him for leading me to put the book down several times and look up references on my phone. Try not to be fooled by malapropisms like "scented ungulants."
ADDENDUM: Pratchett and Gaiman didn't exactly outline the story; they made it up as they went along. I like that, because it makes the results less predictable. It's one reason I do the same with my webcomic.
For the sake of a semi-rebuttal, I've started reading That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis.
Published in 1990, it seems to have a millenarian implication, albeit with tongue firmly in cheek. The forces of both heaven and hell are preparing for an 11-year-old Antichrist to launch a war between them. One catch: The Omen-like hospital switcheroo got more complicated than the Satanists had planned, and only near Apocalypse time does the truth come out that they've focused on the wrong kid. Mind you, even without the intended upbringing, the Antichrist (Adam Young) can exercise extreme powers, so nobody's writing off an imminent Apocalypse yet.
Adam forms a gang with three other kids, who become notorious in their otherwise sleepy hometown. But to us, they come across as mostly harmless scamps, with moralities about par for their age. Even Adam's secret hellhound becomes a real cutie.
There are several other focal characters, many with names much less common than "Adam Young." A nebbish named Newt Pulsifer joins old grump Shadwell's pathetic so-called Witchfinder Army for a job. Anathema Device makes a business of interpreting her ancestor Agnes Nutter's befuddled prophecies. The Four Horsemen -- among the most disturbing aspects of the book, despite the incarnation of Death coming straight out of Discworld -- slowly come together but then quickly make their journey to the appointed destination.
My personal favorite is the main demon, Crowley (formerly Crawly, the Eden serpent), who sounded fit for a Robert Downey, Jr. role even before I read his human form description. According to the playbill-style cast page, he didn't so much fall as drift vaguely downward. He enjoys a lot of luxury, thanks in part to defying physics so he never has to, say, change the oil in his beloved Bentley. Most of his modern troublemaking consists of creating minor nuisances for lots of people at once, like traffic jams, tho old-school demons don't appreciate how much this accomplishes. Despite setting things up for the Apocalypse, he's not actually looking forward to it and the resulting eternal heaven or hell, because he's grown to love Earth. After his accidental mixup, he fears punishment but also sees hope for averting, or at least delaying, the end.
Aziraphale the angel, by contrast, flakes on modernity and sometimes betrays his age with references to things from long ago. He certainly takes interest in old books, having opened a used-book store but never selling if he can help it. He too doesn't look forward to the world ending. In fact, he and Crowley have become fair-weather friends after six millennia of half-hearted opposition. They make an interesting pair.
Yeah, this is the main way the book gets irreverent: The angels aren't entirely good, the demons aren't entirely bad, and sometimes there seems a fine line between them. Each side gets surpassed by humans on both counts. If you envision Dogma as a book and subtract most of the grossness, you won't be far off from how it feels. At least we don't learn much about God beyond his "ineffability."
I consider it as funny as Guards! Guards!, with more immersion, thanks probably to Gaiman. That said, I also blame him for leading me to put the book down several times and look up references on my phone. Try not to be fooled by malapropisms like "scented ungulants."
ADDENDUM: Pratchett and Gaiman didn't exactly outline the story; they made it up as they went along. I like that, because it makes the results less predictable. It's one reason I do the same with my webcomic.
For the sake of a semi-rebuttal, I've started reading That Hideous Strength by C.S. Lewis.