This was my introduction to Neil Gaiman. I have a first edition hardback, thanks to my dad, who, browsing in a bookstore one day in 1990, picked it upThis was my introduction to Neil Gaiman. I have a first edition hardback, thanks to my dad, who, browsing in a bookstore one day in 1990, picked it up and thought: "This is something my daughter would like." He had no idea. He subsequently read it himself, and to this day nurses a crush on War.
This past March 12, the date on which you might remember Sir Terry Pratchett took one last walk with an old friend, I had the improbable good/bad luck to attend an evening of conversation with Neil Gaiman. It was clear Neil was tired, and sad, but he was there. He didn't cancel, and he very gracefully took time to chat and pose for pics at the reception beforehand. He was exactly as charming and approachable as any fan could hope.*
The talk itself, with Gaiman's close friend Michael Chabon acting as interviewer, was meant to support his new story collection Trigger Warning, but we were in for an unscheduled surprise when it turned into a sad, funny, moving eulogy for Sir Terry. Gaiman, as he does so well, told stories. He told us about how, as a young journalist, he met his early mentor and lifelong friend Terry Pratchett. He talked about long phone calls during their pre-Internet collaboration on Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch. He told funny Terry stories. And he spoke proudly about Pratchett's brave struggle with Alzheimer's and his very public campaign for death with dignity. And finally, he read from this book.**
Which is a round-about way of getting to why I decided to reread Good Omens when I have a giant stack of new books waiting for me. This book -- the story of the coming of the Antichrist (a spunky boy called Adam who's maybe a little too rebellious for the position), and of an angel and a demon who team up to thwart the Apocalypse because they kind of like things just as they are, thank you very much -- is just as delightful as it was in 1990. And from here in 2015, it gains unexpected emotional heft as a Bradbury-esque fable of that not-so-long-gone time when kids actually went out to play and make trouble of a summer day. It's still Douglas Adams-level silly, but there's nothing wrong with that, and its influence on the fantasy genre is undeniable. And under the comic veneer is a keen study of human (and angelic and demonic) fallibility, and the joys and responsibilities of exercising our freewill. Upgraded from four to five stars. A classic.
*In case anyone is interested in what happened when I had my chance to chat with Neil-freaking-Gaiman, I have to admit I was a little star-struck. I managed to blurt out how much I loved his screenplay for the Doctor Who episode "The Doctor's Wife." (view spoiler)[ In it, the TARDIS is enabled to manifest in a human body, and for the first time actually "meet" the Doctor. There's a moment, after she's been embodied for a while, she points out how humans are rather like a TARDIS -- much bigger on the inside. (hide spoiler)] Neil's eyes -- I swear -- actually twinkled, and he replied: "Yes . . . that was one of those moments when I thought -- yes, I've done something clever right there." That episode won the 2011 Ray Bradbury Award for Outstanding Dramatic Presentation and the 2012 Hugo Award for Best Dramatic Presentation, Short Form.