It’s on and through, like the oldest story that had ever been told

Sweetened with pieces of sour, dull-colored candy.

filled with the Gods of old, living the jaded lives of men.

Who had been long left and forgotten by their children.

It’s about how man worships his savior, the roots that he grows – to the cows that he raises to be taken to the slaughter.

The blood of the lamb on the altar as a sweet aroma to the All Father.

To the birth of technology – and the lust of the media.

 

“The end is nigh”, says the days – the second cousin of nightfall. The uncle of rain, as the seeds of evil linger on…

And the pending of inevitable, unfathomable, godly war — and a fallow field soaked with the blood

of the ancients

that are only met with through dreams.

who have the heads of cattle.

Or scavenging birds with eyes like collapsed universes.

 

The story

is about an ex-convict (Shadow), named the way he’s named because of the way he lingers through…

on the verge of existence.

And the wanderings of his dead wife.

And the only job that’s worth having for a widow, serving the same Gods who’d been watching him suffer all these years.

written like white bread

Immediately recognizable.

Plainly and gleefully and saturated with myth.

With only enough meat – since the world’s faith is a humongous thing.

And Neil Gaiman is only a man who authors books

about women with button eyes.

Final Rating: 3.5/5