The Dark Knight
Returns, Watchmen, and a few
other works of their time showed that the superhero genre and the comic book
medium could be raised to a higher level of artistic expression. Neil Gaiman's Sandman realized that potential perhaps further
than any work before or since. Although conceived, named, and published like a
superhero comic, Sandman was something
else, something more. It attracted readers who were never interested in
superheroes, and arguably stands still as the high-water mark of the medium.
The central character is referred to as Sandman only rarely,
is sometimes called Dream – in Gaiman’s formulation of seven siblings known as
the Endless – and in a nod to Classical mythology, is most often called Morpheus.
In this threefold naming alone, Gaiman shows his power to blend DC superhero
continuity, established cultural and literary tradition, and his own
inventions. As the series goes on, Gaiman also weaves literature, history,
current events, pop culture, science, and science fiction into his story, and it
is his ability to draw on such a vast number of subjects that makes Neil Gaiman
himself perhaps the most fascinating character of the series. Gaiman has an
expansive world in his mind and his ability to draw upon such a vast array of
sources makes Sandman a richer work
than all but the rarest literature. The reader is invited to research what his
sources and inspirations were, and in the process could inevitably learn a
great deal about such wildly different topics as the French Revolution, the
history of Baghdad, and demonology and the occult. One of the series’ most
remarkable issues is devoted to an exploration of mortuary science, with Gaiman
inventing an entire society devoted to funerary preparation. There is simply
more effort evident in most issues of Sandman
than almost any issue of almost any other series; time and time again, Gaiman
pulls off the challenge masterfully, delivering one fascinating story after
another.
Structurally, the series' 75 issues tell one long story,
with many coherent tales of several issues each woven together with many
one-issue tales. The larger arc is that of Morpheus' downfall, beginning with a
decades-long imprisonment at the hand of some English occultists, and a complex
story, after he regains his freedom, in which he provokes several of his old
enemies and gains a few new ones. Many characters on Earth and other realms are
sent reeling into tragedies and triumphs of their own as byproducts of
Morpheus' own struggles. The plot is ornate and interconnected, with minor
cameos early sometimes spinning off into maxi-arcs of eight issues.
Sandman diverges
from the superhero genre so early and often that listing the ways in which it
breaks from tradition is dizzying, but elucidates both Sandman and the works that came before it. Morpheus is not a hero.
He feels a duty to the unique office that he holds, but he is motivated to
maintain order, not to utilize his considerable power to eliminate suffering.
And there is much suffering in Sandman.
There is an astonishing number of murders, rapes, and other acts of cruelty in Sandman, many of which go unavenged. But
one of the best characteristics of Sandman
is that Gaiman is driven neither to uphold nor mindlessly reject tradition: He
does protect the innocent and avenge injustice when the situation and his
well-developed character demand that he behave that way. Morpheus is mindful of
justice, and at times delivers it, but follows his own motives in each
situation, whether this means that he behaves as a hero or watches a crime with
total indifference.
While not a cruel being, Morpheus is selfish, and his own
shortcomings accumulate throughout the story until they help bring about his
undoing. This larger pattern of Greek tragedy is one of Sandman’s finest homages to literary tradition. Misstep by misstep,
Morpheus allows his enemies to move against him, and the series’ largest act of
justice is that the title character himself ultimately pays for his many sins
with his own destruction. And yet, the reader feels compassion for him, even as
some of the smallest and most trivial acts of carelessness on his part become
the most fatal. After eons in which Morpheus selfishly allowed others to be
destroyed, he is ultimately doomed by at least three acts of kindness and
obligation, and blamed for at least one crime that he did not commit. A reader
cannot read this and not feel; those feelings are frequently beautiful, and
frequently painful.
In one of many ways it broke from established tradition, it
ran for a finite length and despite commercial and critical success, ended when
the writer reached, from a creative standpoint, an ending. Possessing a
definite ending is one of several characteristics that Sandman holds in common with other groundbreaking works of its
decade. However, while works such as Waid and Ross’ Kingdom Come, Watchman,
and other works by Alan Moore show a dark hollowness to superheroes, Sandman neither affirms nor rejects the
genre. He follows a course that draws upon worlds of science fiction, myth,
literature, history, folklore, dark magic, and – at times – superheroes. He is steadfast
neither in embracing the superhero genre nor rejecting it.
Gaiman uses the Garrett Sanford and Hector Hall Sandmen as
symbols of the superhero genre gone wrong, too trite to stand up to the grim
realities of his larger story. But he also uses the Bizarro concept from
Superman comics as a genuinely meaningful inspiration for a transsexual character,
and it says much that an observer as gifted in his breadth as Gaiman find a
superhero story to be worthy of such a mention. Late in the series, Superman,
Batman, the Martian Manhunter, and Wesley Dodds return in minor appearances,
affirming that Gaiman never forgot where the creative inspiration for Sandman began. Another comic book
inspiration is from House of Mystery / House of Secrets: Gaiman gives more than
their due to the storytelling characters Cain and Abel and their associates,
brilliantly capturing the dark comedy of the original series, which was itself
a world under the DC title that, like Gaiman's work, sometimes crossed over
with that of the superheroes, but never matched it in tone.
For me, Sandman is
a story of the fall, both a fall in the sense of the ruin of its central
character, and the autumn, when night comes early. For its expansive scope, its
take on familiar characters, and its tone appropriate to the autumn season, I
feel its call every year, and will surely return to read it in its entirety many,
many times.
