Anansi Boys

Anansi Boys, by Neil Gaiman (as read by Lenny Henry)

Finally finished reading — well, that’s not right, finally finished listening to Neil Gaiman’s Anansi Boys. I’ve had the hardcover for a while, but Stan loaned me the Audio CDs and I’ve been listening to them on my commute

Triffic. Just triffic.

Not surprising. Gaiman is a master at injecting myth into the modern, at seamlessly blending farce, drama, horror, fantasy, and anything else he puts his mind to. And he does it with a spot-on delightful use of the language.

Anansi Boys is the story of Fat Charlie Nancy, a rather pathetic Caribbean-descent emigre from the US to the UK. Fearful, phobic, put-upon, and an all-around schlub, he discovers, through various delightful-to-read events, that he has a brother he never knew about; that their father was Anansi the spider-trickster god; and that there are wheels within wheels within wheels that will threaten to destroy his life (not to mention kill him), even while promising something far greater …

The novel features any number of marvelous supporting characters, bound together by a storyline that, weblike, is not always obvious, but eventually brings everyone together in the end.

I’ve been a Gaiman fan for years, so it’s not surprising this tale grabbed me. It’s both touching and stirring, shifting effortlessly from a familiar-enough-to-make-you-cringe psychological study of Fat Charlie, to a holy-crap bit of high magic and myth, interspersed with tales of Anansi both modern and timeless. It’s more intimate than American Gods, but broader in scope than Neverwhere. It’s just too much fun.

Lenny Henry does a great job, too, as the reader on the CD set, his voice carrying the pathos of Fat Charlie, the slickness of Spider, the playful cantankerousness of Anansi, the smarminess of Graham Coates, the unctuous threat of Tiger — all of the characters come alive in his rendition.

I cannot speak well enough of the novel, even if the ending is just a bit weak — the problem with a novel where the characters actually grow and change is that sometimes they change away from what made them most appealing. But I don’t regret a single minute I spent listening to Anansi Boys — and, in fact, am taking the hardcover on my upcoming business trip so that I can enjoy some of the fine language at my leisure, and am loaning onward the CDs to Margie to listen to on her commute.

In short: highly recommended. Thanks, Stan.