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A review by inhonoredglory
The Sandman Vol. 4: Season of Mists by Neil Gaiman
5.0
The really special thing about the Sandman universe is how utterly and magnificently rich it is. Gaiman has enough ideas up his sleeve to pull off volumes of essentially one-off stories: the first set [b:Preludes & Nocturnes|23754|Preludes & Nocturnes (The Sandman, #1)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1411609637l/23754._SY75_.jpg|1228437] and the third [b:Dream Country|25100|Dream Country (The Sandman, #3)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1402485052l/25100._SY75_.jpg|2371237], not to mention individual stories in [b:The Doll's House|25099|The Doll's House (The Sandman, #2)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1298566119l/25099._SY75_.jpg|2648] and one in [b:Season of Mists|25101|Season of Mists (The Sandman, #4)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327937313l/25101._SY75_.jpg|25854]. But there's something special about the long game, like we get in [b:The Doll's House|25099|The Doll's House (The Sandman, #2)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1298566119l/25099._SY75_.jpg|2648] and in this one, [b:Season of Mists|25101|Season of Mists (The Sandman, #4)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1327937313l/25101._SY75_.jpg|25854]. In the former, we get the story of Unity Kinkaid, Rose, and the Vortex (and how they all interact with the missing dreamkind). In the latter, we get Hell... and how it all goes to Heaven.
There's a splendid sense of tiredness and loss in this volume, and a further breaking down of Morpheus' power as he is completely flummoxed by Lucifer's surprise gift. (Spoilers follow.) The devil is tired of Hell and decides to chuck it all in, bequeathing the Key of Hell to the Dream King and releasing all the inhabitants of the bottomless pit. Thing is, they don't want to go. And that's where this volume really excels, in the striking and insightful notion that it's our own self-pity and guilt that keeps us in tormented bondage—and in a twisted but purely human way, we like it. Pure violence alone isn't horrifying, and once Lucifer leaves, we can see that. But when Heaven's envoys come to take control of Hell, that's when it hits us: It's the violence that happens under a moral banner—a "this is right" or "this is godly"—that's the Hell that's truly terrifying.
In a sense, Morpheus takes a back seat in this volume. He's taken down several pegs by both Lucifer and his long-lost human love, Nada. And, continuing the thread from [b:The Doll's House|25099|The Doll's House (The Sandman, #2)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1298566119l/25099._SY75_.jpg|2648], he finds that he is as much a doll in other being's houses as he is a shaper of other being's dreams.
I did love the one-off in this tale about Charles Rowland, who dies in an English prep school after the dead start coming back to life (because Hell was vacated). It's a lovely, centering reprieve from the banqueting and negotiations of several pantheons of the world's gods coming to ask for Hell's prime real estate. Death has a lot on her hands with the dead returning, and when she can't attend to newly-corpsed Charles, he (and a fellow victim of violent bullying) decide to run away together and see what life (or rather, death) has to offer. It's a playful, comforting, and utterly Gaimanesque turn of phrase that highlights everything I love about this series and this volume: Things are upside down, life is death and death is life and Hell is empty... but happiness happens between the vast and unfathomable doings of gods and monsters. In that little space is humanity—simple, childlike, ordinary, and truly magnificent.
There's a splendid sense of tiredness and loss in this volume, and a further breaking down of Morpheus' power as he is completely flummoxed by Lucifer's surprise gift. (Spoilers follow.) The devil is tired of Hell and decides to chuck it all in, bequeathing the Key of Hell to the Dream King and releasing all the inhabitants of the bottomless pit. Thing is, they don't want to go. And that's where this volume really excels, in the striking and insightful notion that it's our own self-pity and guilt that keeps us in tormented bondage—and in a twisted but purely human way, we like it. Pure violence alone isn't horrifying, and once Lucifer leaves, we can see that. But when Heaven's envoys come to take control of Hell, that's when it hits us: It's the violence that happens under a moral banner—a "this is right" or "this is godly"—that's the Hell that's truly terrifying.
In a sense, Morpheus takes a back seat in this volume. He's taken down several pegs by both Lucifer and his long-lost human love, Nada. And, continuing the thread from [b:The Doll's House|25099|The Doll's House (The Sandman, #2)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1298566119l/25099._SY75_.jpg|2648], he finds that he is as much a doll in other being's houses as he is a shaper of other being's dreams.
I did love the one-off in this tale about Charles Rowland, who dies in an English prep school after the dead start coming back to life (because Hell was vacated). It's a lovely, centering reprieve from the banqueting and negotiations of several pantheons of the world's gods coming to ask for Hell's prime real estate. Death has a lot on her hands with the dead returning, and when she can't attend to newly-corpsed Charles, he (and a fellow victim of violent bullying) decide to run away together and see what life (or rather, death) has to offer. It's a playful, comforting, and utterly Gaimanesque turn of phrase that highlights everything I love about this series and this volume: Things are upside down, life is death and death is life and Hell is empty... but happiness happens between the vast and unfathomable doings of gods and monsters. In that little space is humanity—simple, childlike, ordinary, and truly magnificent.