American Gods: Shadows #1: Red Pill Reality, or Blue Pill Dreaming?

Writers: Neil Gaiman, P. Craig Russell
Artist: Scott Hampton
Publisher: Dark Horse Comics
Released: 15th March 2017



Okay then, let’s jump into Neil Gaiman again, and see if he has anything to offer in 2017. Old story condensed: As a messed-up, lost, ostracised, ignored, working in bad jobs, dead man walking, unloved, tax-payer, seat-filler, walking alone, always alone, don’t talk to him, he’s alone, young man in mid to late 1990’s UK, I read the Sandman. In those books I found something to occupy my mind, and make me think that perhaps the world wasn’t as empty and devoid of meaning as the life that I was experiencing. I devoured it all, then departed, back into the world that offered so little, and gave back even less.

A decade later I returned to Gaiman, purchased one of his novels, tried to read it, and couldn’t. I remember sitting on the grass as I waited for my car to be fixed. I remember wanting the book to be good. I remember being disappointed. The book was long-winded, ponderous, boring, didn’t connect with me, and I gave up trying to read it about one hundred pages in. It’s title? I don’t remember. After that time I have occasionally gone back to Gaiman, giving him chance after chance after chance, and the more time that passes, the further I get from being able to connect with his writing.

This is probably a good thing, because when I did connect I was miserable, not really caring if I lived or died, because I had nothing around me worth living for anyway. Dreams were better than reality, because reality really sucked. Now, as I get older, and still don’t connect with the world around me, I feel a lot better about everything.

Why, what changed?

Not the world, that didn’t change, but I did. I’ve been through a process of getting rid of the junk, of cleansing my system of the poison nihilism that almost killed me. Gaiman gave me distractions, but nothing that offered hope of nourishment, of a future, or a rope to safety that would help me get out of the pit that I found myself in.

That pit was my culture by the way. I was a young man growing up during a time period when traditional English culture and identity was being replaced by the love of all things American. I didn’t want to be English. I didn’t even know what being ‘English’ meant. I wanted to be American. I wanted American comics, food, sport, movies, everything. I didn’t even want to live in England. My country was boring, there was nothing here, no future, no pride, nothing, just a wasteland of grey, and over the pond there was America, bigger, brighter, newer, better. I didn’t know anything about my own country, wasn’t taught about it at school, or on my television, or in my movies, or in the music that I listened to. Everything was American. England was nothing, and so was I.

The dream stories of Neil Gaiman placed England in the past, and looked to America as a pathway into the future. The young people of England were being told to look to America, that their homeland was a dream with no future, and so that is exactly what we did.

But America, the amusement arcade, was just another dream, there was no solidity, no meaning there, and as I stood in awe to it’s sparkling neon newness I became adrift in my own land. I looked to America, and saw a reflection of my own face in a plastic façade, whilst all around me the present crumbled into disrepair and decay.

When I look back at that past, my past, I’m hit with a huge sense of pride that I managed to live through that era of awful nihilism to emerge here on the other side. So here I am today, in a present that I almost denied to myself, thriving because I dug myself out of the pit of nihilism, and discovered things of worth, things to fight for, and things to believe in. Now when I go back to the writers of my past, the writers who kept me down in that pit, I look at them anew, see ugliness, cynicism, aimlessness, and the sense of despair that they broadcast, and can identify it immediately.

Let’s jump into ‘American Gods #1’ and explore a small part of that past.

It begins with a thirty-two year old handsome, athletic, intelligent, philosophical, black man in an American prison, and the story is from his point of view. Neil Gaiman is a fifty-six year old Jewish man from Hampshire, England.

The handsome black man, although in jail, is portrayed as intelligent, caring, loving, and in general, a good individual, a victim of ‘the man,’ that man being the spectre of white racism, as can be seen by the casual racism that comes his way from a white prison guard. The insinuation is that America locks up intelligent, handsome, good black men because of white racism. We see the handsome black man’s pretty white wife. He tells us how much he loves her, how he’s looking forward to seeing her again when he is released. What has he done? Why is he in prison? It’s brushed over, it’s unimportant, what is important is that this good man is in jail, he made a mistake, he’s going to get out, and the rest of his life is going to run just fine.

We wait for the bad news to come, it’s inevitable, the character is a vehicle for narrative development, there is no humanity in him, he is not real, he is a shop-window dummy for Gaiman to dress up in story. He needs him imprisoned to service that story, so he’s in jail, and he will be released when the story needs him to be released.

This dummy character of liberal virtue signalling value has no family, no relatives, no children, no parents, no community, nothing substantial, just a pretty white wife who is killed off halfway through this first issue, because it services the story. After reading this first issue (I have not read the book) I get the same feeling that I get at the start of most books, comic books and movie narratives. That feeling is of emptiness and confusion and annoyance that so much has happened, so much remains unexplained and try as I might, I cannot drain any meaning whatsoever from anything that I have just witnessed.

The entire point of modern narratives is to keep you hanging on the end of a hook, to drag you through a story of no meaning, and get you to the end, thanks for coming, now please depart from this fairground ride of nihilistic emptiness. The ride is the meaning, because there is no meaning other than the fact that the creator got you to pay for the ride in the first place.

I recognise a good fairground dream ride of no meaning, as that was my past, that was my pit, and that is why I was so unhappy. Neil Gaiman is a good writer, of course he is, but do you want to join his new/old ride of no meaning? It’s rusty now, the movements no longer amuse, startle, or thrill. What do I mean? Let’s look at the breakdown of this ride, and the tricks or gimmicks that are used to thrill the passengers.

1- ‘A storm is coming’ cliché immediately.
2- Good man released from prison as the world changes.
3- Casual white racism.
4- Convict observes differences of life outside of prison, in airport setting.
5- Phoning dead wife, listening to her voice on answer phone.
6- Gaiman not understanding the sharing drinks (to create bonding) dating trick/tactic.
7- Dream sequence with strange creatures talking vaguely.
8- Weird stranger meeting on aeroplane after upgrade.
9- Chimp grin, showing teeth as aggressive, BBC 1993 Attenborough observation.
10- Strange old American diner cliché.
11- Freudian sex scene.
12- End.

That is poor sauce. There is nothing that feels new here. Nothing to connect with anything contemporary, it feels so, so old. Thank you for getting on the ride, thanks for your money, you allowed me to live the life of a writer, and I get to wear black, have messy hair and pretend that I’m a gothic teenager from the late 70’s early 80’s. I am fifty-six years old, and my book from 2001 is being made into a new television show. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

I admire Neil Gaiman. I admire his cleverness, and ability to prolong his writing career into the fiftieth decade of his life. He is still working, and even though I cannot find anything to take from his work, that work ethic is admirable. I know that ‘American Gods’ is an old book. I know that it’s about modern life killing the old Gods, replacing them with technology, and that the old Gods return to battle against the new Gods of materialism. I understand the idea that our new Gods are celebrities and materialism, but that already feels dated to me. If you want to talk about new and old Gods of 2017 you need to talk about the Gods of mainstream liberal consensus, because they are the Gods that are being challenged ‘right’ now.

Plus, attacking the idea of celebrity, materialism, products, television, and the emptiness of mainstream culture, whilst playing a huge role in propagating that culture yourself? Come on, selling faux-rebellion/revolution to the masses, and in the very instrument (comics, books, and television) that enslaves them to nihilistic materialism? You’re taking the piss, telling your audience that they are dupes, whilst keeping them safely duped/drugged up upon the dream plantation of no-resistance, no reality that is mainstream lefty comic books and television? Come on, look in the mirror, get some reality into your lives.

2001 was sixteen-years ago, that’s a very long time ago now. The questions on people’s mind’s today are not about Odin or Thoth, but globalism and nationalism, that is what truly awakened people are talking about in 2017, not questions about religion and the God’s of old tribes. Why release a comic book that already feels old? Why bother making it into the latest television show? I’ll answer that. It’s being released now because it’s safe, it’s just another ride, it might sell a few tickets, and nobody is going to get upset or feel anything other than mild amusement about it all.

In 2017 Neil Gaiman is still selling his useless old dreams to the masses. It’s what he does, and it’s what he will always do. He’s made a career out of it, so good for him, but I can’t stay with him in dreams of the past. I have to move on.

I am in the fortieth decade of my own life, and have decided to walk past the funfair-ride of television, cinema, books and comic books. It has taken me a while, but nothing worth having will ever come to you quickly, or easily. To gain wisdom you must suffer, but suffering does not last forever. Eventually, and it might take decades, light must finally appear. I see the light now, finally, and that is where I must go.

There are rabbit holes revealing themselves, and they are available to anybody brave enough to take a look. What am I talking about? I’m not going to tell you, because you cannot be told, you must find them for yourself, when you want to find them, and when you are ready to find them.

But, I am a blabbermouth, so I shall hint at the entrances.

Start with nationalism versus globalism. Look at the actions of Longshanks (Edward I) and his edict of expulsion. Tribal identity, multiculturalism, social, global control, money, politics, culture, education, history, who are you allowed to criticise? What are you allowed to question, and more importantly, what are you not allowed to question?

The rabbit holes are open, and you can explore them on your own. Neil Gaiman offers a funfair ride into the world of old dreams. I’ve been there before, it can be fun, but all it really does it take you around and around, and leave you back at the same place where you started. I no longer have time for fairground rides and running around in American dream circles. I took the red pill, explored the rabbit holes, and hey, it’s amazing what you start to find when you truly awake from a blue pill life of slumber.

We all have a choice to make, and the biggest problem that stopped me from progressing was that I didn’t even realise that there was an option. If you are reading this and are still in the same mindset that entrapped me, then I know how it is. In the movie there is a bloke who gives you a red or blue pill option. Real life isn’t as easy as that. In real life you end up reading somebody (flawed as I am) like myself, get angry or confused, and run back to the safety of the blue pill dream. I just want to let you know that you have a choice. What do you want to live for? Do you want a life of red pill reality, or a blue pill Neil Gaiman dream? It’s your life, and the choice, and you do have one, is up to you. Take care, and thanks for reading.

-Mark Anthony Pritchard (17th March 2017)


You can check out my new red pill book here:

Amazon Kindle (UK): https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B06XKRQV2L

Amazon Paperback (UK): https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/1520836678

Amazon Kindle (US): https://www.amazon.com/dp/B06XKRQV2L

Amazon Paperback (US): https://www.amazon.com/dp/1520836678