The Oncoming Hope

I'm going to keep this one short, just so I can get back in the swing of writing about Sandman (sorry about the long delay since the last post!)

As an epilogue, it closes a number of the storylines in Seasons of Mists, while setting up a number of storylines for the future.

Nada's story ends in rebirth (and knowing the way that Gaiman operates, we shouldn't be surprised to encounter a grown Nada who has new significance).

We find Remiel and Duma remaking Hell to fit their own desires (Remiel's, at any rate). There's more than a small hint that Remiel will be the real devil, a truly tyrannical leader over Hell, as opposed to Lucifer's oddly benevolent attitude toward his wards.

And speaking of Satan himself, he's lounging on the beach. It seems fitting that as he's decided to go walkabout, we find him in Australia, basking in God's creation.

Loki makes a deal with Dream for his freedom (and Loki being Loki, this will definitely come back to bite everyone in the ass.

And Nuala. Oh Nuala. She is bound to Dream now, albeit in a less fair state.

Visually, this issue stresses movement. In each storyline, someone's breaking out of the panels and off the page, which is appropriate because, apart from Loki and Cluracan, everyone's behaving a little bit differently than they normally do. We see Dream be merciful not only to Nuala, who definitely deserves it, but to Loki, who definitely doesn't.

And so we arrive at the new normal. As we move into the next trade, Distant Mirrors, I'm sure we'll find that normal is nothing but a matter of perspective.

*BTW, the image I've used to illustrate this post is by Sandman superstar Jill Thompson, as part of A MOVIE PITCH!!! But it does illustrate a scene from this issue. http://twitpic.com/1fee0v

Two ideas are key in this issue: Nuala, and Empty Space. Look at this exchange:

Nuala is defined by her distance from the other characters. That third panel is particularly genius, when you realize that Nuala sits between the arguing factions, looking lost as a little lamb. The empty space always points to Nuala. So it's unsurprising, yet incredible from an artistic standpoint, that she is the only character allowed the great no-no of publishing: WHITE SPACE!

Note the deliberate contrast to the smooth coloration and delicate hatching of the previous panels. The dots are clearly discernable in this panel. When the artist switches to pointillism, we can be assured that Gaiman is playing tricks with perspective. He relies on us to judge the action from a distance, a distance that allows us to put the picture together. We cannot have perspective if we are too close.

Don't know what I'm talking about? Check this out:

That's Chateau de Papes, by Paul Signac, the second most famous pointillist. Move away from the image, and notice how it becomes clear. It does not reward close view, unless you are interested in splotches. To be frank, this is exactly the sort of trick you'd imagine the Dream King playing, especially when inviting a number of warring factions into his realm.

Is it possible that even Dream has confused himself with the traps he has set:

Oh that mist. The season of mists, that makes it impossible to see where you're going unless you step back.

And now, may I present the most important use of negative space in the issue yet:

Throughout this scene, we cannot be sure where Duma will land, until, incontrovertibly, he lands beside Dream. This is the moment where Dream decides. We do not see him under duress, but it's impossible to know what Duma may have communicated to him while Remiel blathers on, melodramatically.

But see how Duma's robes take the shape of Dream's. Perhaps Duma becomes a sort of emissary of Dream, a way to keep Hell in line with Dream's own wishes even while he formally accedes control. So when Dream seems to hand over the key all too readily, is he being genuine or is he playing a long game of his own?

THE VERY SHORT GAME

Azazel, impelled, from Hell, did unwell against Dream when he attempted a coup. To be fair, his coup was less a political action than a serious case of mustache-twirling. Dream has never looked more badass than when he finished him off for good.

Rule #1: Don't declare war on Dream in his own realm.

OTHER

Who doesn't love Thor's ACME rain?

I haven't spoken too much of Cluracan until now (Cluracan, btw, is pronounced Kloo-rah-kahn). He's been a minor background character, represented as one who is present but not particularly interested in the goings on in the Dream King's court. But he's given enough attention that we know he will be important in the future. And so will Nuala.

His aspect seems explicitly styled to resemble Robert Plant, which can't entirely be accidental:

Given the generally static nature of this issue, this post may be more of a series of observations than a deeper analysis. We've finally reached the point in the story where I dont quite remember what happens next, so it's very exciting to read into the little hints Gaiman sprinkles through the tale.

So we begin as Dream hears a variety of appeals from characters fictional and mythical, all longing for custody of Hell (though Why is not entirely clear to me as yet).

On the Art

Has anyone else noticed that Dream's castle looks different in every issue? Where previously it sat upon a craggy cliff, this time it sits on an island, complete with water and sand.

I wonder if that accounts for the new dinosaur guard? In addition to the gryphon and unicorn who normally guard the gates, there appears to be a stegosaurus/brontosaurus hybrid. Does anyone know what mythical beast that might be?

Also, did a different artist take over from page 18, only to return on pate 20?

On Tricksters and Gods

Why is everyone standing so far apart from the Norsemen? Certainly Thor is a rapey bastard, but they are all given a wide berth (maybe all that blood makes them smell horrible).

Is it significant that Loki appears to be the only one who does not enjoy the fruits of Dream's hospitality? He says he is "content to watch," which is never the greatest thing to hear from a renowned trickster. Of course the Angels are also there to supposedly "watch," which I somehow doubt is the only reason they're in town.

Come to think of it, I wonder if Gaiman is intentionally focussing on the tricksters and not the rest of the applicants? If you pay attention to the background figures throughout this issue, there are thousands more people present who we haven't met. One is clearly Merlin, of Arthurian legend (and the Disney interpretation, hilariously). We see Merkin engage in trickery within the confines of this episode! And of course the fairies are tricksters. And just to put a point on it, the background story involves Cain and Abel performing a magic trick (sorry, illusion). And we all know cats are tricksters.

OTHER

I was thrilled to figure out on my own that the sleepwalking servant must surely be Dream borrowing someone who's asleep.

I find it interesting how Dream becomes more and more disrespectful as the interviews go on.

Man, it's been so long since I've read this that I actually don't remember who he gives hell to, if indeed he gives hell away at all!

When the Human Nature/Family of Blood episodes of Doctor Who first aired, I remember thinking they were the most Gaiman-ish that the show had ever been (in fact, I think they might be more Gaiman-ish than the episode Neil Gaiman actually wrote). I didn't connect the boarding school to this issue of Sandman at the time, but it did have that peculiar Sandman-y mix of horror, otherworldliness and imperfect humanity. And the way the Doctor deals with The Family is precisely how one might imagine Dream dealing with them.

There's something so quintessentially British about the boarding school setting. We have boarding schools in America, but they're not really places of horror, as they frequently seem to be in British fiction. Certainly, Enid Blyton and Tom Brown's School Days were written for children, but even those lighter portrayals had an undercurrent of malevolence. The darkest ones I remember were P.G. Wodehouse's schoolboy stories (yes, believe it or not, Wodehouse did write a few horrifically dark novels). Which is not to mention the most famous depiction of all: Pink Floyd's The Wall. Remember this video for "Another Brick in the Wall"?

Let's take a closer look at Gaiman's iteration of this most hellacious of places.

Charles Rowland, Bird-Brain

First things first, this issue is beautiful, isn't it? Set on black paper instead of white, all the shadows really come alive.

We meet young Rowland as Paine wakes him from a nightmare. Back when I wrote about "Passengers", I pointed out that it seemed that whenever we're caught in the nightmare of a character, that character is likely to face an unpleasant visit from Dream in the flesh. Unusually, we do not run into a Dream again in this issue.

So while this appears to be a standalone issue in the ongoing political narrative, the content of Charles' nightmare explicitly links back to the previous issue:

"It was the skeletons of birds, falling from the sky. They crunched underfoot as I ran. And Then I saw that they were trying to move, even the ones I had crunched to bits. The whole world was covered with dead birds...trying to fly."

As birds are the most augurous of augurs, it's safe to assume that Charles' dream shouldn't be ignored. If you read the line at its most literal, it means the dead are crashing down to earth. Even the ones that had been completely mangled. In a nutshell, Dream has granted Charles a preview of this issue.

But we're not done with the birds yet. Remember the last issue, and the poem by Keats that we looked at.

"The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies."

And what happens when the swallows fall to earth? Just something to think about in the larger narrative. When all those grappling for the impossible role of governing Hell give up on that dream, and reality settles in once again, how will they react? Think about that in connection with the way that Dream has been drawn, at the center of a spider's web. Are we learning that he is in danger, and that that danger is being communicated to all of his charges?

The Dead Begin to Return

I enjoy the way that Gaiman has put us directly in the story, so we can actually experience the dead returning. He could have given us a lot of clunky exposition about the "ramifications of the dead returning," á la Season 4 of Torchwood, but he shows us instead of telling us. Telling us through the eyes of a child is perhaps even more effective, as the orphaned child is not filled with superstitions and preconceptions. As he says, "adults were strange, and he had few criteria by which to judge them."

But according to the criteria for Hell that Lucifer laid out for us, why the Hell are some of these characters returning? We established a couple of issues ago that those who are in Hell are there because they believe they belong there. So then, it logically follows that when Lucifer kicked everyone out of Hell, the only people who are sent back to Earth are those same miscreants. Many of the characters clearly belong in Hell according to the internal logic of the series, but many of them don't.

So why have the matron's babies returned? One baby died in a cot, one miscarried. And would a baby really feel that it deserves to be in Hell anyway?

Why is Paine here? He was clearly murdered by the bullying boys. He wouldn't have gone to Hell. It makes sense why only one Headmaster would return; perhaps he's the only murdering bastard Headmaster. But not all the boys, not the murdered, not the suicides, not those who died of disease.

I expect there's some reasoning behind this that I'm not aware of, and I look forward to it being revealed.

And thusly we learn that Charles has been dead all along.

Conclusion

We already know, from the story of Hob, that rejecting Death is significant. Though I have to say, Death has never been easier to reject, as she seems to have appeared from the set of Olivia Newton John's "Physical."

I do like the idea that Hell follows the sinners around, even though as punishments go, it's pretty meaningless. It doesn't stop the bullies from hurting other people, as we learn.

Other

I was hoping to find some clever reason for the school being named St. Hilarion's, but basically all that I learned is that St. Hilarion was sainted for the dumbest reason ever, for refusing to succumb to temptations that he made up in his head. Perhaps that ties in with the fact that we are introduced to St. Hilarion's on a war memorial. Many lives are lost in fighting enemies that are invented.

I will leave you with the Literal Video Version of my personal favorite depiction of a boys boarding school:

LOKI, I AM YOUR FATHER

The epitaph of "Loki Sky-Walker" is interesting. Apparently this is one of the less accepted translations of the original Norse phrase, which is more often translated to "Loki Sky-Traveller" or "Loki Air-Traveller"(I'm just waiting for some Norse airline to make that the name of their frequent flyers' program!).

So for Gaiman to choose this translation suggests a specific call-back to Luke Skywalker and Star Wars. I don't yet know what that is, but I'll look out for it (if you know what it is, please enlighten me).

PUT A BIRD ON IT

There are a number of birds popping up throughout this issue, not just Matthew our friendly raven, but in various decorations, on wall sconces, and the prevalence of the griffins with their eagle heads.

It's worth paying attention to the title of this particular book: "season of mists." The phrase comes from a Keats poem called "On Autumn."

Let's look at the last stanza:

Where are the songs of Spring? Ay, where are they?
Think not of them, thou hast thy music too. -
While barred clouds bloom the soft-dying day,
And touch the stubble plains with rosy hue;
Then in a wailful choir the small gnats mourn
Among the river sallows, borne aloft
Or sinking as the light wind lives or dies;
And full-grown lambs loud bleat from hilly bourn;
Hedge-crickets sing; and now with treble soft
The red-breast whistles from a garden-croft;
And gathering swallows twitter in the skies.

And who sings the songs of Spring? Birds do. The Sandman's castle is teeming with them, the birds of spring, stuck waiting to see what might happen next under the "barred clouds". Then the "gathering swallows twitter in the skies." Who can the gathering swallows be but the many guests, speaking their curious languages of request?

Morpheus is at a literal crossroads, with many options to govern Hell. It seems more than fitting that two of the applicants are Order and Chaos, though it seems that one of the two will win no matter who wins the keys to Hell.

ON THE MANY FASHIONS OF DREAM

Dream goes through more costume changes in this issue than Madonna in concert. Given the importance of visuals to the comic book medium, I have to assume that these are not just aesthetic choices on the part of the artist. What do his many outfits mean?

There you go. Six distinct outfits worn. Let's go through them one by one.

1. I Am Dream, Sea Anemone - We've seen this one throughout Season of Mists. It seems to be his travel uniform, though we haven't seen it before this book. His billowing robes are full of secrets...and probably a lot of wind. Perhap it offers some sort of organic protection as he travels through the void.

2. In my emo moments, I listen to The Cure - I find it interesting that his casual outfit is very contemporary. You'd think he'd revert back to some casual clothing of his early years. Also, it seems impossible that this guy ever relaxes.

3. My hair, it grows! - This is an interesting panel. His hair seems to twist and turn, almost Medusa-like, and he simultaneously covers his eyes, as one would do when facing a Medusa. It almost suggests that he's looking back at himself, and what he sees is his own destruction. Foreshadowing?

4. Le Bourgeouis Gentilhomme - This week, Morpheus's idea of formality involves fashioning his hair into a giant cabbage. It's interesting that he makes the formal gestures even for the one sibling who resolutely does not care about formality (after all, is anyone really dignified in death?). Nonetheless, I love the way her face comes out of the mirror.

5. Just Chilling. Again.

6. Courtly Robes - There's a lot going on here that's quite interesting. The robes themselves seem drawn from Aztec designs, but the way that Dream is posed is very reminiscent of ancient Hindu carvings. Only, instead of a Shanga and Chakra, he's holding his staff and the key to Hell. Perhaps clues will be revealed in the next issue as to this design.

NEXT TIME: Banquets, bitchery and skull-duggery, woohoo!

First things first, how gorgeous is that opening shot of Hell? I'm trying to figure out whether it's one giant dead thing or a pastiche of many dead things. Or if it's constructed like the prison in Jonathan Lethem's short story The Hardened Criminals, where all the prisoners with life sentences are molded into bricks and made part of the prison wall.

Anyhow, it's up to Morpheus to figure that out. He's just been handed the keys to the kingdom. I wonder how he'll deal with ruling over actual beings instead of just their imaginations?

ON THE LINGERING DEMONS

First, let's talk about Breschau of Livonia, who actually cries at the thought of being forced out of Hell. Breschau, and all the other lingerers, tell us something interesting: could it be that some beings actually want to remain in Hell? In some ways Breschau seems like the serial killer who wants to be caught, for only once he is caught and punished does his crime actually go recognized as his own. Breschau has had 1100 years of undivided attention as he brags about his misdeeds. He's about to lose it all, to lose his central sense of self: that he is an evil being, therefore he finds belonging in a domain to house evil beings. Where will he go next? Where can he go next? As Lucifer says, no one remembers Breschau. Livonia is gone. He is powerless and now he is alone.

The three strange demons are funny: we are shown that the closest friendships are forged in Hell. In this case, quite literally.

Mazikeen teaches us that love exists, even in Hell.

So where will they actually go?

It's interesting that it almost seems as though Lucifer was placed in charge of some deranged cult. Anyone of them could leave at any time, but they are sustained in their belief that they belong there, that Lucifer is their jailer. As they're all slaves to trangressing what they believe to be morality, will that morality change? Will they return to what they were before they came to Hell? One would certainly imagine not, as everything changes over time. How many will find that the sins they are self-flagellating for are no longer sins (sodomites, abortionists, etc)?

The only universal truth is the passage of time. And time changes everything.

IMPORTANT THINGS TO NOTE

Pay attention to Lucifer's list of possible occupations. If memory serves, he does in fact do all of them in subsequent issues.

Look at the image below. Doesn't that look a bit like Morpheus with his head is chopped off? Methinks Gaiman doth foreshadow:

Very Silly Things

1. In which Sandman indulges in a particularly silly sci-fi cliché:

vs.vs.

2. In which we observe Dream go through the many stages of constipation:

So this is the first issue where I had major problems, and I know you may not share my difficulties, but I'm going into them anyway. Perhaps I struggle with this because I don't believe there's a Hell, and the more I think about it, don't even have a conception of what Hell might look like.

It didn't bother me in Hell's previous appearance, back in Preludes and Nocturnes, because that introduced one domain among so many. In this issue, Hell is privileged as a place where all demons and evil beings go to roost.

Try as I might, I cannot see past this line: "there is only one that we have ever owned to be our superior. There is but one greater than us. And to him...to him we no longer speak." Unless Gaiman's about to pull something completely left-field on us, this implies the Abrahamic God. Indeed, Hell is sold to us as a real place, but the very conception only exists in Judeo-Christian religions. And not only does Lucifer state that this God is far greater than the Lord of Dreams, he erases any ambiguity by quoting biblical verse.

So it's a contradiction: Cain resides in the realm of stories, and yet God is real and makes proclamations about this fictional character.

Also, the list of names in panel one of the issue? All of the "many names" are Judeo-Christian realms apart from Tartarus. Hades is not a place of demons, it's a realm of the dead, and Avernus is merely an entrance.

Then, when Lucifer states that no greater percentage of the hedonist Cainites ended up in Hell than of any other religion, you realize that Gaiman has set up this illogical realm to make a bad joke about the Abrahamic God, basically that his rules don't make sense and intentionally obfuscate the truth of morality to his followers, and all religions are equally valid or invalid.

Then WHY does Gaiman state through Lucifer that the Abrahamic God as superior to the Endless? Certainly he doesn't declare Bast or Inana or any number of other Gods to be so. In fact, all the other Gods have power only as long as they exist in memory, which means that their stories are alive among mortals, which is to say they belong to the King of Stories, aka Morpheus. So then, perhaps Gaiman is saying that some stories, ie the Christian one, can become more powerful than the Endless themselves if enough people believe in them. In which case this conception of Hell sort of makes sense.

We are introduced to a number of other plot points in this issue: we learn that Lyta's baby has some significance to Morpheus, and that Morpheus has a predilection for dressing like a giant coral reef.

I apologize for the lengthy digression, but I think things are going to get really crazy, really soon.

And let's not forget who Hell really is for:

I will begin this piece by disclaiming any and all digressions, as it's appearing more and more likely that this installment will be nothing more than a long series of digressions. To be fair, it's like a new season premiere: reintroduce the main characters, redefine their relationships, set the plot in motion, raise the stakes from the previous season. Like all family reunions, there's some yelling, there's some fighting, some pompous ass who thinks he's too good for the rest of them, a mischievous younger sister, and the swearing of blood oaths. So while I could describe all that for you in greater detail, I'm sure you can read, and instead I'm going to put my sine over my cosine and end up on a tangent. So there.

We begin as Destiny walks through his garden, bumping into the Fates (If Destiny and Fate walked into a bar...) I will let others make the Jorge Luis Borges connections for you.

Instead, check out Destiny's pad (boy would I love a Sandman-themed series of MTV Cribs).

It becomes clear that the paintings on the wall are the other Endless, their sigils. But then, who's on the panels in front? Perhaps we can find clues in the origin of the design.

At first glance, I thought it was modelled on the Babylonian temple in the Pergamon museum:

But no. We know Neil Gaiman's a Doctor Who fan. Destiny's castle-cum-modest-estate is clearly modelled on the Tomb of Rassilon.

Which means, in a nutshell, in Destiny's land rest the souls of long-dead Timelords. I admit I'm having a bit of fun, but it's not an impossible theory, after all the 9th doctor used to go on about being able to experience all time at once (before one writer took that back and gave it to the TARDIS instead. Oh yeah, that was also written by Neil Gaiman).

In which I rhapsodize about fashion

In one of my favorite cases of Gaiman anticipating my own questions and then answering them, I thought the following after page 5-6: "Why are all the paintings from a much older era? Why are they painted in the realist tradition anyway? Why does Dream look a bit like George Washington crossing the Delaware?"

And then Desire waltzes in, commenting on how Destiny hasn't redecorated in 300 years. Clever, clever Gaiman. So 300 years ago, the Endless fancied themselves a bit...French. And given the Fates hint that the "King will forsake his kingdom," I suspect the similarity to Napolean is not a coincidence.

and 

Fashion tips from Death: Suitable clothing for both informal and formal Endless occasions can be found at Hot Topic. I kid, I kid. While it's natural that Morpheus would find sartorial kinship with Napoleon, it's surprising to see Death as a lady.

The artist seems to have created an inversion of Vigee-Lebrun, who was one of Marie Antoinette's favored artists (this would make a sort of sense; the circumstances of her death define Marie Antoinette's life):

Or a more direct homage to John-Singer Sargent (though that wouldn't fit the time frame of "300 years ago":

I cannot begin to express my disappointment that we don't get to see portraits of Desire, though again, Gaiman explains that one away. I do find it strange though that Destiny hasn't updated the portrait of Delight, now that she's Delirium. Does that mean she'll turn back into Delight again at some point?

But seriously, folks

I'm fixating on a lot of seemingly random details because I think they'll prove important  later. This issue sets off the entire plotline of the remaining Sandman series, and you have to believe that nothing is accidental, whether tangentially, whether referentially, or whether by absence (what happened to the other sibling?) Dream may be going to rectify a past mistake, but the past is another country, and in this case, it's Hell.

See you on the next issue!

When I first read this story a decade ago as a deeply depressed teenager, I got it completely. It's not a good place to be, being able to relate to a character who would go to almost any lengths to end her own suffering. Basically, I related to it on a very superficial level, and not in a way that helps me to appreciate the story now.

Now that I'm completely distanced from that sort of angst, I freely admit that there are a number of things in this story that I really don't get. Urania Blackwell comes off as, well, self-involved, just as Death says. Initially, it seems that her main problem is loneliness, the sort of loneliness that comes with retiring without a family, and suddenly losing the majority of her human contact. But the more we find out that her isolation is self-perpetrated, the less sympathy I have.

There's another reason that this story felt more poignant ten years ago than it does now: the superhero genre hadn't been demystified to quite the same extent that it has now. At the time, Watchmen was the only widely-read comic that addressed what happens when superheroes stop being heroes (nerds, correct me in the comments. I know there's that one where Superman gets old...or is it Batman?).

So in that context, "Facade" bursts on the scene like Sylvia Plath or T.S. Eliot after decades of Keats, Wordsworth and Robert Frost. It's not that the former is substantively superior to the latter, just that it feels fresh precisely because it adds something new, explores a new facade, if you will. Likewise, "Facade" shows the darker inner life of a superhero (the real darkness -- depression and mental health issues -- not origin-story trauma or hackneyed "why can't I just have a normal life" whining). But since this issue came out, we've had an embarrassment of stories that deal with the real emotional consequences of superheroing: Heroes, Smallville, Harry Potter, Hunger Games, and that's just off the top of my head. Compared to some of the real trauma those characters go through, it's difficult to feel sympathetic to Urania's "I hate my life because I'm so hideous" angst.

But, as with most stories in Sandman, you have to look at both the literal story and the metaphorical one. The metaphorical story is fine, psychologically disturbing in the way we've come to expect from the series. But "Facade" is rare in that the literal story just doesn't work for me. I'll discuss both below.

THE LITERAL STORY, or, THE FACADE OF THE STORY, if you will

Urania's power is that she can take on whatever shape or form she desires by manipulating the elements. However, she's isolated herself because she no longer desires to use her powers to go out into the real world. It's not clear from the story whether her face was turned hideous from her superhero birth, or whether it's a more recent development, and I think that's important to know. I don't know if I would have more or less sympathy if I knew either way (maybe more if she's had this face her entire superhero life, and now she's tired of the disguises).

But, as these things happen, Death is in the building when Urania sinks into pits of despair. Death says, "I'm not blessed. I'm not merciful. I'm just me. I've got a job to do, and I do it." Is it possible that she contradicts herself, showing mercy to Urania, because she knows that Urania is a hopeless case? To my mind, it's well within the scope of possibility that Urania is physically capable of overcoming her weakness and moving past her depression, but maybe Death sizes up the situation and basically goes, "No, this one isn't going to do anything but stay at home and whine about her face."

THE METAPHORICAL STORY, or, UNDER THE FACADE

There are two stories hinted at about Urania that run concurrently. (This duality may be why the story just doesn't come together for me).

First, there's the hint that Urania has been stuck like this for however many years: that she is fundamentally immutable, and that inability to change, to transform, to grow has led to the warp of her insides. She alternates between her hideous unaltered self and that perfect facade, the one that's on file with the Company, the one that makes her look as young as ever even when she feels older than ever. In this manner, she resembles not only the Endless, but Hob. (there's a nifty parallel here: In Death's last story, she grants immortality, in this one, she takes it away).

Secondly, you can read Urania as a character who has lost all identity. She can only wear the faces from the past, she even collects them as memories or remnants of when she felt human, or superhuman. Maybe it's retiring from the Company, or maybe there's some other traumatic event we aren't privy to, but perhaps she has lost herself, and knows that putting on those faces is putting on an old identity, one that isn't her anymore. Perhaps this is why she freaks out when her friend informs her of her pregnancy. There's another identity that's lost to her, that she can never have.

She even looks at the retarded kids with longing; they may be mentally disabled, but they're happy. Another identity she cannot have, that of a happy ignorant person. One might say they are the true counterpoint to Urania; enlightenment led to her ruin, quite literally.

And perhaps she feels that when there are no identities left for her to adopt, it's time for death. And luckily for Urania, Death turns up, right on time.

Phew! Sorry for being so long-winded. Since this post was so late I thought I'd give you extra bang for your buck!

I heartily recommend Matt Cheney's discussion of "Facade", it's a poignant tale of its own: http://www.boomtron.com/2010/12/sandman-meditations-facade-neil-gaiman/

I feel that it's important for me to admit here that I am no great fan of A Midsummer Night's Dream (the play, not this comic. I LOVE this comic). Lord, it's probably more important to admit that I am no great fan of Shakespeare (call me whatever names you want, but I have done my time. Give me Ben Jonson any day. Yes, I am aware the Jonson to Shakespeare comparison is Beethoven to Mozart, but now I am digressing before I have even begun*). But Midsummer Night's Dream irritates me more than any other of the Bard's works (twee, twee, illogical twee, based entirely on plot contrivance. Further detail involves a whole other post).

But my personal dislike is neutralized, as usual, by the beauty of Gaiman's artistry; this is a story about a creator who once made a deal with the devil -- here Shakespeare is Faustus and Dream is Mephistopheles (or, in a neat parallel with the Calliope story, Shakespeare is Madoc, senseless in his quest for creation, relying on a bargain that can only be repaid in the worst possible way for him.) Lest you forget this particular deal, flip back through Doll's House for Hob's seemingly random eavesdropping in the pub.

This issue does have some of the best panels in Sandman history. The shot of the fairy kingdom watching the players set up the theatre suggests an almost infinite audience. But the satyr sitting on the trolls shoulder? It reminded me of this ridiculous painting from one of my favorite episodes of Parks and Recreation (Leslie Knope is Di-Athena, for the painter is a moron):

Back when I first read the story, I really did appreciate the tragedy of Hamnet. But my goodness, he is SO WHINY. When you see him eating the fairy fruit, it's a little bit hard not to cheer. But poor Will Shakespeare. At least he has the good sense to regret his deal with Morpheus before he is dealt the final blow.

AND SPEAKING OF DOMAINS

Is this our first encounter with Faerie in the Sandman series? If I have missed one, forgive me. But there are strong hints of two eternal domains, that of Faerie and that of the Dream's family, forever at odds with each other.

But we learn that Dream can keep Faerie alive long after they're gone, alive in dreams and in stories. That is his true gift: an immortality of sorts. And thus he uses Shakespeare's gift to his own ends, though we don't yet learn what ends those might be. This story is layeredskillfully, featuring stories within stories within long games and the pettiness that so frequently enlivens the lives of immortals in fiction.

This, ultimately, is what separates Shakespeare's action from that of Madoc's: the bargain is never exactly clear, none of the immortal beings involved can fully be trusted, and it's quite likely that Will would never recognize that Hamnet's fate was cosigned by himself. But when Morpheus asks "have I done right" we learn that Morpheus does know. Which makes it slightly heinous, a deception predicated on one side not knowing all the facts (which is precisely what irritates me about Midsummer Night's Dream and so many other Shakespeare plays). Dream knows this wasn't a trick of the fates, he knows in his heart that he "tricked" Shakespeare, even though he likely believes that the bargain is fair and equitable on its face. Dream is beginning to comprehend the sadness of mortals, and this will probably change his very being.

Separately, I have to recommend The Great Night: A Novel , by Chris Adrian, which tells the tale of a very dark version of Midsummer Night's Dream, set in San Francisco's Buena Vista Park during the summer solstice. The New Yorker site has posted a free story from the novel called "A Tiny Feast,", which is beautiful and heartbreaking (I wrote about it here: http://theoncominghope.blogspot.com/2010/10/short-story-book-club-tiny-feast.html)

*I don't like Mozart either.

This story leaves more space than any other in the series for readers to project their own interpretation of exactly what happens in the story.

First, how you feel about cats can alter the entire tone of the story. For instance, Linda Holmes at NPR enjoys the story from the angle of "kittens are so adorable! How sweet it is when they try to be devious and political!"

I read the story as secret access to the minds of housecats; I truly believe that 99% of cats spend their time thinking about revolting against their owners, but generally err on the side of laziness.

The other open question is whether the entire story is even real. Did cats once rule the humans, or is it all just a dream? Can Morpheus be a kingmaker in reality, or just in dreams? I'm not gonna answer this question for you, but I believe it will be addressed later in the series.

ON THE VERY NATURE OF STORIES

I find myself searching for an Orwellian connection but I struggle to find one. The cat's political prowess is nowhere near the level of the pigs in Animal Farm, nowhere near as eloquent as the government in 1984. And yet, I cannot believe it does not relate somehow. After all, the entire Sandman series is grounded in archetypal stories, fables and myths, and I think "Dream Country" is even more so -- the stories address, respectively, Calliope, Aesop's Fables or Animal Farm?, Shakespeare, and Superheroes.

"1000 Cats" doesn't really fit into the Aesop's Fables mold though, as there is no overarching moral lesson to be gleaned from the story (except maybe "don't kill the kittens!"). So while the other three stories have clear intellectual forebears, placing those myths into the Sandman Universe, I'm not sure what myth this story is exploiting.

Maybe it's a political allegory, a critique of Marxism/Communism perhaps. Like those movements, this revolution rests on a cult of personality, without which the hoi polloi have no impetus to act (of course in this case, it's still not enough for them to act, even in dreams).

Maybe it's a racial allegory, showing how the "purebred Siamese" has delusions of grandeur, of leadership, or superiority. Which would tie into a religious, manifest destiny point: he goes from country to country, converting the heathens, trying to falsely empower them with the concept of Cat Supremacy.

CONCLUSION, IN SO FAR AS SUCH ANALYSES CAN BE CONCLUDED

While Gaiman asks us to empathize with the cat and demonize the humans who murdered its children, I believe he does so as a satire of the emotional exploitation that is part and parcel of political communication (DING DING ORWELL CONNECTION FOUND). For while we listen to the cat's cheap emotional appeals, do we ever stop to think what sort of rulers the cats would be? We are shown what sorts of rulers they once were, even more savage than the humans. Even for the cats, their lives are less savage and more comfortable than before.

Then again, maybe it's all just a story, and nothing more.

I think the most important thing to take away from Doll's House in its entirety is that Rose is pretty awesome. I admit I was worried when we first met her, but she has more than redeemed herself. I'm not sure I've loved her more than this moment:

"I don't understand it, but I believe it."

No whining, no existential crises, just a simple acknowledgment of what's happening. Sure, she's a little confused as to WHY it's happening, but aren't we all?

"AND THEN SHE WOKE UP"

That is one of the classic "twists" that creative writing classes try to prevent. You know the ones: it was all a dream, actually this is purgatory, we've all been trippin' on PCP, etc. But if ever the line "and then she woke up" is appropriate, it's here. It's a credit to Gaiman's restraint that he hasn't used this line until now.

In fact, he's killing two cliches in one stone: not only does the phrase end the previous story, it begins Rose's new story. And waking up is equally hackneyed at the front of a story as at the end. But it feels right here. Beautiful even.

That said, there is another twist that does not really work for me: that Unity is in fact the Vortex, and Rose somehow inherits that status. It's a handy way to keep Rose alive and fulfil Unity's purpose, but the whole creation of the Vortex mystifies me. So Desire had sex with Unity and therefore Unity becomes the Vortex? Til now, I thought it was some random aligning of the cosmos that selected Rose Walker, and I would have been more satisfied if that was the case. The new twist means that not only is Dream a servant, a doll, of humanity, he can't even protect his domain from his less powerful younger sister. And I don't like the implications of that. It weakens him as a character.

Also, at the moment Desire's scheming feels extremely pointless. Creating Morpheus's love for Nada, yes, that makes sense within the context of what we know about Desire. But to what end would Desire have Dream kill one of his own family? By manipulating him to do so, she is not influencing his desires at all; he merely acts to destroy the Vortex out of responsibility to his kingdom.

Separately, now that I'm thinking about it, isn't it possible that Desire's act actually SAVED the Dreaming? When Unity Kincaid came of age to become the vortex, Dream was trapped and wouldn't have been able to do anything about it. His kingdom was in tatters, his powers at an all time low. Unity might actually have destroyed the Dreaming completely. So by moving the Vortex down a couple of generations, didn't Desire inadvertently create a situation where he could act to save his domain? I wouldn't accuse Desire of anything altruistic; she probably didn't know. But oh, the vagaries of chance.

ON DOMAINS

See, didn't I tell you domains are important? Gilbert isn't a who, but a place. He is a domain unto himself, but isn't even master of his own domain. It's such a lovely idea, that places have character and personality. This is one of the ideas that really stuck with me long after I first read Sandman.

"What a wonderful place!"

"Yeah, it was a friend of mine."

LOOKING FORWARD

Doll's House as a whole sets up many characters and themes that will dominate the series in later issues; pay attention to the denizens of the Doll's House, for they do not emerge unscathed from their proximity to the vortex.

I am going to pay a lot more attention to Desire's actions, because even when I first read the series I did not give them a whole lot of consideration. Of course she's important as a facet of humanity, but I want to pinpoint her importance to the Endless, to this particular universe, apart from being an irritatingly smug thorn in everyone's side.

SANDMAN MEETS INFINITE JEST:

Part of the reason I've been a little lax about these Sandman Re-Blogs is that I've been sucked into the bottomless abyss that is Infinite Jest, by David Foster Wallace. These are not two works that you would imagine a lot of crossover with, but more and more I can't help thinking what a great comic book series Infinite Jest would make. In fact, Wallace's trademark footnotes would work perfectly well as the sort of asides that are common in Sandman: quick cuts to the Dreaming, stray thoughts invading, passages and passages of loving description converted into art, etc.

In this issue, especially, the parallels leap out, particularly in regard to our friendly gothic sisters, Chantal and Zelda. Here, as with Joelle van Dyne, we have two beautiful girls with no outward deformity hiding behind veils. Chantal dreams of perfect sentences, as does Avril Incandenza. They are both willfully committed to this Doll's House.

In many ways, the Doll's House is the equivalent of Ennet House in IJ: these people aren't trapped there, they aren't locked in, they can leave at will, but for various reasons they don't (at least not yet). They are drawn body and soul to this place, whether that's because of Rose or whether that's because of something else within themselves. (Does this make Don Gately a vortex?)

We meet Gilbert the same way we meet Lenz: in a dark alley, dressed as a vigilante superhero. Like Lenz, Gilbert has other places to be, but he's content to be here (more than content, actually). Gilbert is not a serial killer in training though, of course.

But apart from the superficial similarity, there's a larger confluence in theme: these are people regarded as grotesques by mainstream society and are searching to find their true humanity, which seems only accessible in non-reality i.e. dreams in Sandman or addiction in Infinite Jest.

Likewise, dreams reveal lack of humanity. Look at Ken, going through the motions. In his dreams he is everything he wants to be, and what he wants to be isn't human at all, it's a caricature, it's a Bret Easton Ellis stereotype.

ON CITIES AND DOMAINS:

I said I'd come back to the whole issue of space and city and domain, and here we are. 
We are introduced to the necropolis in Zelda's dream: the city of the dead.

I believe I'd discussed before how the Dreaming appears to operate as a quasi-feudal system, with Dream sitting in the throne room, not micro-managing, but broadly guiding the kingdom. So it's interesting when Rose says "Each mind creates and inhabits its own world, and each world is but a tiny part of that totality that is the dreaming..." and then proceeds to break down the boundaries to create a single dreaming. So that suggests me that rather than executive ruler, Dream is more of a judiciary leader, a Supreme Court of sorts dedicated to maintaining the separation of different dreams. He creates and administers the rules, (and punishes offenders like the Corinthian) but does not govern the whole of the Dreaming. He just governs his judicial branch, as it were, with Lucien, Matthew, et al.

OTHER:

I'm probably not the first to comment on this, but I do wonder about Zelda being drawn explicitly in the style of John Tenniel's original Alice in Wonderland illustrations: See Alice Here. Going by the stories being told, it would be more fitting for Barbie to be drawn in that style, as she enters a sort of late Victorian fairytale herself, complete with anthropomorphic animals and magical talismans.

Next Issue: We Conclude The Doll's House

At last, the long-rumored episode that readers never forget, and probably never expect, for that matter.

I think this issue clearly demonstrates how the series has finally found the balance between horror and more subtle commentary. Gaiman understands that psychologically speaking, there is literally nothing more terrifying than a convention of serial killers, and he lets that speak for itself. He portrays them as characters one might see at a nerdy sci-fi convention (and lets be honest, at a certain point in the 80's/90's, and probably until this decade to be honest, admitting to being a sci-fi nerd was just as socially off-putting as admitting to being a serial killer).

But I digress. Back to the horror vs. subtle-goings-on thread. On first read, Gilbert's recounting of the Red Riding Hood story seems very much balanced to the former. But of course it's foreshadowing: like the fairytale girl, Rose is looking to visit a family member, only to find said person kidnapped by a killer. The link is further strengthened by their names: Rose and Red.

I'm pretty sure this is the first issue to be entirely contained within one setting, namely the Empire Hotel (please correct me if I'm wrong, but at the very least, there are usually scenes of Dream zipping about through dreams). So when Morpheus finally appears, he enters the scene like electricity; his presence is immediately felt. Even the Corinthian can't maintain his punny facade for long.

And of course, by revealing the truth of their actions to themselves, Morpheus deprives the killers of the only thing that justifies their actions: their delusions. He proves, yet again, that the worst punishment is neither incarceration nor death: it's the absence of things to look forward to, the absence of hope, the very absence of dreams [delusions in this case].

Next week: Things become very, very strange.

"I still do not see what purpose this will serve...[but] It might be interesting." Morpheus is obsessed with purposes and reasons and rules and regulations and power and all sorts of Type A obsessions, at least as presented so far, so this bit of dialogue lets us know that the story will be a wee bit different. I myself don't understand the point of Death's exercise, except to get Dream to go out and meet his minions.

And as for Death, what do we learn of her? When Hob basically insults her very being, her very reason, and her occupation, her reaction is not anger or vengefulness. She is amused! And as a result of her amusement, she chooses to make his belief come true; he will live on.

I am pettily amused by the first panel, and how pub grumblings back then are basically on the same lines as pub grumblings today. Things do not change with time; how well this sets up the story of the man who will not change with time (not physically at any rate!).

And so we ride through time in this oddly standalone interlude in the book (though pieces are placed for future stories, i.e. Dream's deal with Shakespeare), where Dream meets with Hob once every 100 years.

I could never put my finger on exactly why I liked this story so much the first time, and still do now: it reminds me of the original Time Machine movie, with Rod Taylor (the hotness!). To me, it's an extended version of one of my favorite movie scenes of all time, where George sits in his time machine, absolutely still, watching the shop window dressings change as time goes by, variously amusing George, titillating him, exciting him. The mannequin sequence leads into a longer, more disturbing sequence, where his home is transformed, the city is transformed, and even nature herself is transformed.

But still, "The years roll by, everything unfamiliar. Except the smile of my never-aging friend." So is Dream Hob's mannequin? Or is Hob Dream's constant? As they both barrel through their respective immortalities, who is more in need of a reminder that la plus ca change, la plus le meme chose?

Other notes:

-Fun Chaucer cameo!

Ok kids, things are really heating up in here!

Let's start with panel #3, on page one. In the background there are two faces that have already been presented to us in the Dreaming: the pumpkin head, and the smiley face in the top left corner. Stay tuned on these two. And the broom is perhaps a reference to the three witches?

The way it's all set up makes me think of a less ordered version of Desire's wall with the sigils. Which makes me wonder, of course Brute and Glob are Dream's creations, but are his creations prey in turn to his siblings? Can Desire manipulate the denizens of the Dreaming, or only mortals and her own family?

ON CREATION

Brute and Glob are obviously not the obvious go-tos for creative solutions: I think I mentioned previously that they were sidekicks to the old Sandman character, and apparently that's the limit of their world. In their dream creation, they dream of another sandman superhero.

Speaking of creation, let's talk about the ultimate act of creation: pregnancy. Baby daddying in the Dreaming (band name!). I'm a little confused as to the metaphysics of it all: Lyta was pregnant in the Dreaming, and so Morpheus claims her son. But Unity Kincaid also gave birth while dreaming? Perhaps that is why Rose is the vortex...

ON NEIL GAIMAN BEING AWESOME

I've tried to avoid overt hyperbole, because after all, why would anyone do a project like this if it weren't a labor of love? But I love how Gaiman undercuts expectations, or at least subverts them: just when Jed's foster parents start acting less like humans and more like Victor Hugo stock characters, Gaiman assures the audience of his ability with a single line, in the last panel of the page: "they just couldn't tell you why." These people act impossibly evil because they're not in control of themselves: what an optimistic philosophy this suggests about humankind!

ON THE SANDMAN'S REVENGE

There's an awful amount of paper wasted on seeing the Sandman prepare for his revenge; we already knew he's a vengeful god, and I think the point could have been better served by seeing his image creep up in the background gradually. Of course it does make sense that he would have admiration for his servants' cunning, and that's an important thing to get across about the character of Morpheus, but these scenes really interrupt the flow. You could have ended that sequence with the first panel: "I am coming," and the audience would have waited in suspense.

I guess what I'm trying to say that, after the initial scenes of how Morpheus travels back in "Passengers," it's not really interesting to watch him as he travels from A to B (I may take this back in subsequent issues, fair warning).

FORESHADOWING?

Of course we learn the story of Lyta is all a dream. But it's fascinating how Lyta's dream is filled with such real emotions, feelings of being undesirable, worrying about her relationship with her husband. Strangely normal emotions about someone who only exists in dreams! And yet her worldview is unnaturally innocent; his husband suddenly asks like a television father in the 1960's, talking about storks delivering babies.

Keep an eye on the guest list at the Cereal Convention hotel: we are clearly on page C, but the last clearly legible name is The Corinthian. And like so many bad dreams, we need but say his name for him to appear.

COMING UP: CEREAL KILLERS!!! Even Dexter would not feel at home in this crowd...

Alright kids, I'm giving you a break from the marathon length of the past couple of posts, because this is another "in-between" issue. Granted, it's very very important that you pay attention, but this is a case of the infantry taking formation rather than engaging in battle.

So guys? Remember the creatures that had disappeared from the census in the previous issue? Keep an eye on them. We will learn much about their shenanigans.

Rose, again displaying the total self-involvement  of youth, responds to the recent discovery of her grandmother and the accompanying unreality by...moving out! And like any teenager with family troubles, she gets involved with a circus of freaks (I say that with love!).

Of course I kid, because Rose is in town to find her missing brother, Jed. (And in case you weren't already convinced of the importance of Jed to the story, note the raven at Rose's window when she mentions his name.)

ON MY OWN PERSONAL FAILINGS AS A READER OF PICTURED WORDS

You know what really jumped out at me on my third re-read? That the "Land of Marvellous Dreams," where we meet Jed and Lyta,  has numbered panels. This is not an issue with Doll's House, and I don't remember it being an issue in subsequent issues, but did anyone else have trouble with following the panels in Preludes and Nocturnes? They weren't intuitive, and not in a clever, subversive way, but a vaguely annoying sort of "i don't know whether to look right or down" sort of way.

I freely admit, I am not a frequent denizen of the comics universe, and I wonder if there's some code that other readers have that I'm not aware of. But like I said, it's clear in this trade and in subsequent trades.

Which is odd because the artists are much more experimental with the format of the panelling than in the first trade.

Anyway...

QUOTH THE RAVEN

Of course the raven is a spy, and of course Rose is the vortex (this was very very strongly hinted in the previous issue, but now it's official).

ON HORROR VS. ADVENTURE

I have tried and failed to articulate this point on other occasions, both here and in real life, about why I'm not totally convinced about the overt horror in Preludes (and I'm making no promises for clarity now). There's a lack of agency in that type of story; humans are powerless against a super-villain, which is not the easiest story to engage with on a personal level, because we all like to believe we won't just succumb like that. And I like to think most of us don't have such a negative view of humanity, that we'd just roll over and be manipulated.

So take the scene where Rose takes a dark alley as a shortcut; when she's accosted by a gang of hoods, she stands up to them. Which is not only awesome, but revealing of her character. Sure she gets rescued by someone else, but it's the attitude that counts (although it is the 1980's and I doubt that a gang of skinheads would react to a foppish man with a cloak and a cane with an "aw shit," rather than try to attack him right away

My god that action scene is written so well. In just two pages we know so much about Rose, about how she copes with trouble, about her values, about her own mercy. (Caveat: I love it even though it's an impossible coincidence that her savior is her absent roomate...)

So then, knowing that the Sandman world is not in fact a world of outright horror, the Corinthian does in fact become a terrifying presence to the reader. This isn't one of a million human feelings, this is specifically a dude who plays with eyeballs while booking a place at a convention.

Coming up: The Cereal Killer Convention! One of the greatest things in the history of ever.

Right. Page one. A HELL of a page one. It takes that stereotypical comic book angle and makes it into something much darker. Is it the black shadows? Is it the blond hair? Is it the open heart? No. I think it's the suggestion that we're seeing the universe in the body of Desire.

WHAT IS 'THE THRESHOLD?'

What is this place where Desire resides? I think the threshold is that place, that place where decisions are made between wrong and right. You walk in, and you face a long hallway, and you think your way until the halfway point, and by that point you know, you know if you'll keep going all the way, or if you're ready to turn back.

This is the nature of desire.

Preludes and Nocturnes suggests that humanity is built on hopes and dreams, while page one of this issue suggests it's built on what we do when faced with our desires. It reminds me of something that David Foster Wallace commented on in his essay on Fate and Free Will, echoing Socrates' comments at death's doorstep: Free will is the freedom to choose to do the right thing. Denying free will is choosing to do the wrong thing, and then denying responsibility by saying that said decision was fated, or destined. Free will exists as the choice to live an examined life (DFW). And an unexamined life is not worth living (Socrates).

ON DOMAINS

How cool is Desire's domain? It's like stepping into an MTV set circa 1988, when rock stars were still cool, and the public was being offended for the first time by the pernicious new black Jesus incarnation of 'Madonna.'

Take note of the blank square as Desire peruses her sigils.

OH, THE ENDLESS DRAMA OF THE ENDLESS

More siblings! So it turns out that Desire, queen of The Threshold, is Dream's younger sister (and in a beautifully poetic turn, Despair is her twin sister. For what is the dark side of desire but despair?) And like any younger sibling, she is obsesses with ensnaring her older siblings in petty humiliations (in this case, the 3000 year imprisonment of Nada. So perhaps Dream's love isn't true after all, but manufactured. But we'll never know the correct answer, and that's ok, because that's the nature of story.)

INTRODUCING ROSE WALKER

A few things strike me on page 4, where we meet Rose:

• I know it's the 1980's, but Rose's hair? Wow. But also awesome.
• "Mom wasn't interested in dreams, back then." If that's not ominous foreshadowing, I don't know what is.
• "I don't remember," says Rose Walker's mother. The way this text bubble is set off suggests some future significance.

Is this the first time we see a character enter the Dreaming and encounter Dream's minions in the Dreaming? Well of course not, I forgot about Nada's encounter with the brothers Cain and Abel in the previous issue. THAT was the first time that happened.

But when Rose meets them, they are similar in character to how they are with Dream in Preludes. I look forward to learning more about how the Dreaming morphs to fit the various characters that dwell inside it from time to time.

This full page spread of Rose dreaming is absolutely beautiful. But not nearly as stunning as the next page.

LUCIEN TAKES THE LITERARY CENSUS

If I cannot possibly convince you to pause and spend some time with the art, then I'm pleading you to reconsider for this page only (if only so we can argue which stories are which).

Lucien wanders through The Dreaming, which is turning out more and more to be the domain of stories.

Panel 1: A hobbit house in the shire.

Panel 2: I'm thinking Arthurian legend. If anyone is more knowlegeable about the symbolism, do let me know.

Panel 3: Decadent swimming pools and mannequins? WHY IT MUST MEAN ANDREW MCCARTHY! Who not only starred in a Bret Easton Ellis adaptation (Less than Zero) but also in Mannequin. If I remember the movie correctly (and there's no reason I should, it's pretty terrible), there is a climactic scene in a swimming pool.

Panel 4: Great Gatsby. 100%. I know my Fitzgerald imagery (the ever-watching eyes! the art deco!). In fact my high school mandated edition of Great Gatsby pretty much looks like this on the cover.

Panel 5: Railroads and modernist architecture? Ladies and gentlemen, we are clearly in the Ayn Rand wing of the Dreaming. Which is interesting, because there's a strong argument to be made that the Endless live by an objectivist philosophy, and I know Neil Gaiman has had a lot to say about objectivism in the past, especially related to Steve Ditko.

THOSE WHO ARE MISSING FROM THE CENSUS

Brute and Glob: This is interesting, as they were once sidekick's to the old Sandman superhero character, but now they exist only in the Dreaming (and have apparently turned rogue).

The Corinthian: stay tuned with this one. Not only is he apparently a nightmare, he's dressed like Anna Wintour's worst nightmare.

Fiddler's Green: You know how I've been going on about domains? I have a feeling Fiddler's Green will blow this one wide open. But one word reveals much more about Dream's own domain: vavasour. Vavasour refers specifically to a type of a mediated vassal, one who owns a fief, but does so very low in the hierarchy. In plain English, the Dreaming is a feudal kingdom, at least in Dream's eyes. And like any feudal kingdom in history, when the ruler goes absent, the very nature of class and possession transforms, and some (like the Corinthian) imagine themselves above their station, while others (like Fiddler's Green) take the opportunity to look for a new domain.

THE KINCAID FACTOR

Unity Kincaid! Our very own sleeping beauty, you will remember, back from Issue #1. Remember how she was impregnated through her sleep? Well, Rose is her granddaughter. And oh! the self involvement of youth. Rose's mother has a touching reunion with HER mother, and Rose's mind immediately turns back to her dreams, not to the fantastical nature of reality before her.

Rose runs straight into the Kindly Ones, the Three Witches by a million other names, who hint at the questions she ought to have asked. But how could she? She is not an immortal being, she doesn't have the power to see all that is been and all that will be. So for the second time (this may be a theme in Doll's House the trade), we see a mortal sucked into the games of the immortals, without even realizing it. Without doing anything particular to deserve it.

But most importantly? Dream is watching the whole time.

THINGS I HAVE OMITTED, PURPOSEFULLY

The Vortex/The Annulet: At this point it's just a question. Further discussion will follow.

The last page: tbc.

COMING UP: Rose finds her dream home, complete with dream roommates (see what I did there?)

Alright guys, we've made it through the prelude, and now we're into the good stuff. Accordingly, my posts will get longer and more speculative.  We've been introduced to a number of potential themes in Preludes and Nocturnes, and now, in Doll's House, Gaiman's vision will start to crystallize. I'm going to try and identify patterns as they emerge, and speculate as to their future relevance, and I look forward to everyone chiming in!

GENDER

On the first page of the story, a giant phallus! Lest you think i ought to get my mind out of the gutter, the text supports the artistic rendering (or the art supports the text). Whatever. This equal weight between the art and the story was sorely lacking in Preludes and Nocturnes. If the story doesn't grip you, there's very rarely any artwork that distracts you from the words, no pretty pictures to seduce you otherwise. Basically, from panel one of Doll's House, we know that's changed: the very colors seem more vivid, more carefully selected. You can follow the story through the artwork, which I think is one of the most magical aspects of the comic medium.

But back to gender business. It's intriguing that the final step to manhood is not some show of force, no glamorous display, no taking of a female, but rather the simple hearing of a story. I suppose that's true in certain religions: in Hinduism and Judaism, where you have rites of passage for young people, what are the chants but stories, myths of morality, fables of warning?

Tales in the Sand is the first story in the Sandman mythology (or indeed any fiction I've read in some time) that recognizes how storytelling can be falsified by the simple fact of being a different gender. This is something that comes up often in feminist analysis of literature (most recently with Jonathan Franzen's Freedom, where an entire third of the novel is written from a female voice, but no one believes that it's anyone other than Franzen speaking).

I don't entirely buy into the idea that men can't write female stories, or vice versa, but Gaiman calls attention to the fact that there will be a subtle difference if a woman told this story, which is certainly true. Then again, I believe there would be subtle differences if anyone else told the story, period. This is the power of the storyteller; we can manipulate reality to our own advantage (and we hope not to receive the horrible fate of the poor waitress in the diner, who also tried to manipulate reality to her advantage).

I haven't really discussed it as yet, but gender has been an integral part of the story so far: for the most part, the villains have been male and the victims have been female. Also, all the females in the story have exercised what would certainly have been considered abnormal or even deviant sexuality at the time (the 1980's!). Think of "24 Hours." You could almost read it as a morality play: each woman in the story is an adulterer, a lesbian, or a necrophiliac. But Gaiman's aims are never so prosaic; he fails as a writer when he comes off as preachy, as preaching seems so opposite to what he's trying to achieve in this grand series.

This is what is known as overthinking.

DESIGNING THE ENDLESS

I don't know if it's a design issue or what, but the glass object that the old man requests closely resembles the materioptikon. Oh Dream, totally unable to keep ahold of his powerful talismans (that's what she said).

There's also an interesting suggestion that the mortal relationship with the Endless is one of our own making; the boy refers to "Grandmother Death," and Nada obviously has a sexual relationship with Dream (or Kai'ckul in this case). We do have some control over them: they appear in manners designed to appease our own aesthetic sense (and it's hard to remember today, given Neil Gaiman's mainstream success, but Sandman was a hot goth property in its early years).

Also, and most excitingly, look at the Dreaming through Nada's eyes! It's not fun and frolic, it's bloody terrifying! Cain and Abel's constant fighting is not just a repeated amusement, but to her it's a serious battle. And notice how she makes the first reference to the "Endless," that it is 'not given to mortals to love the endless.'

CITIES WITHIN CITIES

Cities and space also hold great importance within the mythology: I don't know if it's Neil Gaiman's ability to bring his settings to life, or whether there will be a greater significance to the whole concept of domain. Domains are clearly defined both emotionally and spacially; different characters fight for sovereignty over everything from emotion to territory. This is true of all humanity, I suppose, but this emphasis lends to the idea that there's a larger game at play. Larger than mortals, larger than the Endless. So I'm gonna start keeping track of city references: obviously we already have the Dreaming, and Hell, and Earth. But now we have the legend of the City of Glass (I wonder if this is an intentional Paul Auster reference, another writer who challenges the notion of story at its base).

Not to mention the king of the birds, an earthbound god who still rules his domain in the sky from his home in the 'hot lands of the North.'

ON POISONED APPLES AND OTHER SUCH THINGS

Gaiman doesn't bother too much with Biblical myths, which is but one of the reasons I enjoy his work so much (I do sincerely feel that sometimes atheists are bitter that they are not as able to craft stories as compelling as those in the Bible, and I get irritated when an author's entire oeuvre is dedicated to refuting those myths without coming up with his/her own new stories, new fables, etc).

But there is a weaverbird, who tempts Nada with berries, and my mind goes straight to Persephone and not to Eve, whether that was Gaiman's intention or not. But of course he's creating a myth of his own, of why the weaverbird is now brown and free from attack.

But then, there's another myth that comes up: in this story, Dream is Zeus, and Nada is Europa, who tries to escape the god by transforming into an animal, only to fail.

Everyone who knows me knows that I hate origin stories. But I am incredibly amused by the concept of origin stories for origin stories.

Coming up: And thusly we meet the family. Two families, for that matter.