Where does the line between reality and fantasy lie? The answer is firmly in the hands of a master dark fantasy writer like Neil Gaiman. Neverwhere follows protagonist Richard Mayhew three years after making one of the biggest decisions of his life as he moves from a small town to the great city of London. He’s managed to land a decent job with a securities firm, somehow convinced an ambitious young lady that his shaggy head was worth waking up to in the morning and then a door opened up, dumping a bleeding Underworld heiress on the sidewalk.
The whole world turns upside down from that moment on in the novel as Richard follows this very special girl through London Below, a place where people speak to rats and baronies have been formed by the people who slip between the cracks. Gaiman is the type of master world-builder that has been rare since the days of Tolkien. The reader can’t help but get carried away on this wild ride; smelling the aromas, seeing the grime and the beauty and most importantly coming to like beyond a doubt all of the characters for their quirks and eccentricities. Even the most fleeting roles in this grand play catch your eye and a piece of your heart. The cruel and amusing duo of Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar, assassins for hire who are disappointed by how little blood they are allowed to shed. The Marquis de Carabas, a thief, a cheat and a trixter, whose allegiance is questionable though his charm in undeniable. Hunter, an amazon of the beautiful persuasion with a quiet strength and a feline agility. Then there is Door, a girl who has lost her entire family to murder and betrayal who brings Richard to London Below in her search for answers.
It’s hard not to get completely swept up in the mystery and intrigue of this tale. I’ve never been to London myself, never had a real interest to, except after reading Neverwhere there is a part of me that is curious to visit and find out if there are birdmen on the rooftops, sewer people in the sewers, an earl of Earl’s Court or shepherds at Shepherd’s Bush. It seems like a dangerous place. The words draw you and I doubt anyone can deny that a small portion of your rational mind is pushed aside in the hopes that Gaiman’s London Below exists somewhere along the tube stations. He weaves so much of the real London in with his creation that you come to realize you’re actually learning about the place. I don’t know about other readers – I enjoy a little education with my fun and if a writer can teach me something new I respect him/her all the more.
What it all comes down to at the end of Neverwhere is an experience to be remembered and revisited every once and a while to remind you that there is magic left in the world.
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