By Elaine Liner
By Jim Schutze
By Rachel Watts
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By Lee Escobedo
Neil Gaiman, father of a dysfunctional family of seven immortals known as The Endless, never had any intentions of abandoning his children in 1996, when he stopped telling their tales in the pages of the most celebrated and deified comic book of the past 20 years. He merely needed to let his creations, among them the dour Dream and frisky Delirium and playful Death, move out of the house and out of his head so he could clear space for other dreams and nightmares, which he would soon enough turn into British television shows and best-selling, award-winning novels and beloved books for children. He always knew he would return to Sandman, the comic book he began writing in 1987, and that when he began again, he wouldn't be writing only for himself but for millions who had consumed his myths and fairy tales and horror stories during his time away. With them in mind, he had but one goal when commencing to write his latest batch of Endless tales.
"Please, God," he would say to whomever was listening, "don't let me fuck up." Gaiman, on the other end of the line from his Minnesota home, laughs when recounting his muse.
"I'm very, very, desperately proud of it," he says of The Sandman: Endless Nights, a hardback graphic novel being published by DC Comics' Vertigo imprint this week. For the collection, a sort of family album in which each of The Endless is given a separate tale, Gaiman has assembled seven renowned artists, some of whom have never worked in comics. They are, as his editor at Vertigo says with a publicist's flair, Gaiman's "dream team."
"I just feel like I actually did the thing that I started out to do, and I don't think people are going to be let down by it," says Gaiman in his soft English accent. "That's the main thing, which may sound silly, but when you've done something like Sandman, which stands as a misbegotten monument, the main concern certainly becomes not to fuck up."
It is not hyperbole to say that Gaiman's return to Sandmanis perhaps the most significant event in comic books this year--save, perhaps, for the cinematic adaptation of Harvey Pekar's glum autobiographical series American Splendor, which has rendered an underground icon a mainstream figure. If there is a constant theme in Gaiman's work, it's the exploration of unseen universes that co-exist with our own--what lurks on the other side of the locked door we can't open, what unfolds in the subconscious during our sleeping hours, what transpires in the tunnels that run beneath our feet.
If you have never heard of Gaiman, rest assured there is a world populated by fanboys and Goth girls where he is a superstar, a rock-and-roller brandishing a pen instead of a guitar. It is in this world where the publication of a new Sandmancollection has been anxiously awaited since its creator looked elsewhere for his amusements and inspirations. (He's also writing an eight-part series called 1602for Marvel, a sort of time-warp tale featuring the company's best-known characters in Elizabethan England drag.)
His original Sandman, which spanned the origin of the universe through present day, was a sprawling, moving, eerie and disquieting epic sold for two bucks a pop. It blended new myths with old legends, commingled manufactured fables with recorded history. Sandman--written by Gaiman and illustrated by an army of artists who offered a universe populated by gods and monsters, Shakespeare and serial killers and even the occasional superhero--would become legend, especially to those who found in Gaiman an author who made their own dreams substantive and tangible.
As much as Gaiman wanted Endless Nights to delight old fans welcoming back distant friends, he wanted it to be accessible to those newcomers. Some of the stories take place in distant lands centuries ago; some occur in the present. One opens up before the universe has even formed; another might be unfolding after it's gone. But it's a remarkable collection not only for the stories but the artwork--the conventional comic-book work of P. Craig Russell and Glenn Fabry, as well as the haunted abstractions of Barron Storey and Bill Sienkiewicz. "Coming back to it seven years later, I didn't know that I wouldn't mess it up until it was all done," Gaiman says. "But I had some wonderful artists, and I like to think they brought out the best in me."
In the seven years since he stopped writing Sandman, the title has become a franchise for AOL Time Warner-owned DC: There have been myriad spin-offs, a hardback Sandman Companionthat dissects each panel of each page, the illustrated narrative Dream Hunters, even a Quotable Sandmancollection. It has also taken on the baggage of myth among its acolytes, who discovered the title either at the comics shops or at bookstores, where the paperback collections continue to sell by the hundreds of thousands each year. Gaiman's return is especially fortuitous for Vertigo, which celebrates its 10th anniversary as a separate imprint this year. It might well be the first comic to hit the best-seller list since Art Spiegelman's Holocaust story, Maus, more than a decade ago: A buyer for the Borders chain told The New York Timeson Monday that he's ordered the same number of copies of Endless Nightsas he did the latest novel by best seller James Lee Burke.