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Neil Gaiman, Various Titles

Started October 15 � Finished October 16, 2003; 454 pages. Posted 30 October 2003

About ten days back I went to see Neil Gaiman speak at San Jose State. Despite being interested in the writing process, I don�t go to these kind of things very often. In fact, this will make the fourth time I�ve gone to see an author, the other ones being Oliver Stone, though more because I liked his movies; his book turned out to be absolutely fucking horrible, nearly as bad as that last football movie he made.

Last year I saw Noam Chomsky, for obvious reasons. Then I saw Bruce Campbell, but only because he was Bruce Campbell, and not because he wrote a book (though his book was much, MUCH better that Oliver Stone�s).

I�ve had chances to see other authors, but I�ve never really seen the point. I�ve heard writers talk about their work on NPR and the like, but they usually annoyed me. It seems like authors put themselves on some sort of pedestal, like what they�re doing is so important and something only they could do.

I have news for you, people, � anybody can write, and I think anybody could write well. It really just takes practice. I�d like to think I can write moderately well, and I appreciate the complements I�ve received, but I�ve seen older pieces I�ve composed that are simply god-awful.

And that was only last week.

That being said, along with Gaiman, there are some authors I�d love to see in person, not out of some sort of hero-worship, but only because I�d like the chance to thank them for bringing some sort of joy into mine and others lives. Vonnegut�s an obvious one. Steinbeck is another, though after reading so much about him I would probably avoid him to give him privacy, for it seems that was what he craved. Orwell would be fascinating to talk with, even for only a moment, and so would Jim Thompson. Finally, I�d love to meet Hunter S. Thompson (and once very nearly went to his fortified compound in Colorado just to see if he�d kill me).

But they�re not appearing at San Jose State anytime soon, so back to Gaiman. There were two reasons to see Gaiman speak � I really liked the majority of his work for one, and two, there would definitely be hundreds of death rock girls in attendance.

Gaiman managed not to come off as the self-glorifying prick that some authors act like. In fact, despite being pretty damn successful, both in graphic novels and fiction, he came off as amazed and grateful for being allowed to do what he loved to do � write.

During the first session, a short question and answer forum that was free to the public, it was announced there would be no autographs. However, if you were interested in getting something signed, they said, you could purchase tickets for the evening reading. In the meantime we had questions from the audience, the best being, �What�s a question you�ve never been asked, and what would be the answer?� The worst was �Do you support the Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender community?�

What the hell kind of a question is that? Like anybody is going to say, �no, fuck those people� to a large audience. That was hamfisted political maneuvering for an unrelated subject. Gaiman took it well, however, saying he loved the fact when he accepted a GLAAD award, the crowd cheered when they properly pronounced his name.

I already had tickets, which I bought before I had found out there would be a free meeting. About acquiring signatures though, I was fairly indifferent. Would a book I love be any more special if I had his signature, or even a personalized note? Maybe, but most likely not. I have one signed book in my possession, and that was by Bruce Campbell. (Which reads: �Dean � I�m afraid I�m gonna have to ask you to leave the store.�)

Collecting signatures have always struck me as a weird phenomenon. I remember being on tour with PTL, and having this kid insist on me signing his copy of our record. I tried and tried to dissuade him, even offering to give him my address and we could write letters to each other instead, but he really wanted that signature. I didn�t know the kid, we hadn�t talked previously, our show that day was mediocre at best, so why would he want me to fuck up a perfectly good album cover? (Speaking of which: Brian � put your signature story in the notes page if you read this, I loved that one.)

Still, if I decided to start a hardcore heroin habit, having a signature by Gaiman could prove to be lucrative, as when I got desperate enough to sell off all my books, that little squiggle would bring me at least one extra score. But I also have a shitload of books by Gaiman.

To make things worse, in the spirit of capitalistic altruism, I offered to take some of the bookstore�s collection of Gaiman with me, so the owner could support his own heroin addiction.

So I enter the auditorium, surrounded by death rock girls in skirts with ripped fishnet stockings and thigh-high boots.

There is a God. Unfortunately, the God for these girls is Neil Gaiman, and I may as well have been a meat platter at a PETA meeting.

But here�s the thing � I had been in this same auditorium when I saw Oliver Stone. (Which reminds me, Stone signed my copy of JFK, so I guess I have two signatures. The whisky I spilled on the cover probably won�t bring up the street value, however)

I should have remembered they had people line up against the left side of the hall, but for some reason, I took a seat on the right side. When the show was finished, they directed everybody to the left. I got up and tried to walk quickly to the front and cut left. Instead, I got caught in a crush of people and by the time I wiggled my way out, the line had spread three fourths around the outer edge of the auditorium.

In addition, they announced that Gaiman would only be signing one item. I went outside to smoke, deciding on what I wanted to do. The signature didn�t mean anything to me, so I decided I would let him sign one of the bookstore�s items. I finished my cigarette and walked back into the hall.

The line had now spread all the way around the hall. I took my place, the very last in line. Gaiman sat a table three feet to my left, meaning I would have to circle the entire auditorium. Being the last person in line, however, I thought might bring me some sympathy and get me some extra signatures. So I opened Coraline at 9:30, which I had started earlier. Forty minutes later I was finished, and pulled out my copy of Endless Nights.

The line had moved perhaps 30 feet.

At 11 P.M. I finished that book, and checked where we were in line. We had moved exactly halfway around the theater, and Gaiman was directly across the room. Somehow I knew security was going to close down the hall soon, though I had no proof that this was going to happen. But knowing an hour and a half of waiting had only finished half of the line, we were going to be here for a while, if they let us stay at all.

By this time, four people had got in line behind me, so I couldn�t use the last person excuse to try and get more than one thing signed. Besides, by the time I got there, he probably wouldn�t be in the mood to be charitable. I would have stuck it out, except for the fact that I now no longer had anything to read. It wasn�t worth another two-hour wait at least, even with the high price of cocaine.

So if I do take up that heroin habit, I hope you people will cut me a deal. In the meantime, if you want to pick up Gaiman�s stuff at the store, it�s still at reasonable prices.

As for the books, Wolves� and �Goldfish� are twisted children�s stories that you would probably enjoy if you didn�t have children. �Coraline� is a cross between fantasy and a Young Adult novel, ala �Alice in Wonderland.� �Endless Nights� is self-contained pieces of the Sandman family, which some are great, others not so great.


Rating: All are worth used, but it won�t kill you to wait for a softcover for Endless Nights.

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