Neil Gaiman's Sandman was originally released in 1989 to massive critical and commercial success. It is one of the graphic novels that helped DC Comics launch its hugely popular Vertigo imprint, and redefined the genre.

It is difficult to overstate its impact on the comic and literary world. Before Sandman, the artists were the real rock stars of comic books, and superheroes ruled the day. Once Sandman was released, though, writers became more respected -- and had more creative control -- and it was proved that non-superhero characters could carry a title, and indeed an entire series. Sandman helped lay the foundation that allowed books like Preacher, Fables, and Transmetropolitan to be published.[1]

Though I loved it the first time around, and I own mint copies of each original issue, boarded and bagged and stored in a climate-controlled location beside the Ark of the Covenant, where they are looked after by top men, I haven't read Sandman since its original run. After I picked up The Absolute Sandman Volume One last week, my initial excitement was quickly tempered with a sobering reality: what if, in reading it as a 34 year-old man, it didn't live up to the mythical status I bequeathed upon it as a 16 year-old boy?

I'll spare you the false suspense: it does more than just hold up. It's better the second time around, as an adult, in this volume, than it was the first time around, whether in single issues or as collections. It turns out that "for mature readers" didn't only refer to tender young minds that could be adversely affected by a boob or a bit of harsh language; there are several concepts and storylines in here that simply flew past my immature mind when I was a teenager.

The Absolute Sandman Volume One collects the first twenty issues of the series. It is entirely recolored and the bright, vibrant result is the visual equivalent of hearing Dark Side of the Moon in 5.1, after listening to it through a transistor radio your whole life. The pages are also larger than they were the first time around, revealing environmental details and facial expressions that were easy to miss before.

At the end of the collection, Neil Gaiman's entire original pitch for the series, featuring several concept sketches that lead to the now-iconic design of Dream is included, as well as the entire script, pencils, and thumbnails for issue #20, the World Fantasy Award-winning "A Midsummer Night's Dream." The whole thing is wrapped up in a gorgeous, leather binding, embossed with Dream's sigul key and a lock, with a newly-drawn Dave McKean portrait on the front.

It's not cheap: it retails for $99 in the US, (though you can pick it up for about $63 at Amazon[2] as of this writing) but it really does offer something wonderful to more than just the hardcore collector. Like I said, these stories really do hold up.

The first seven issues span Dream's capture and seventy years of imprisonment at the hands of an occultist who wished to snare Death, through Dream's escape and (apparently obligatory) journey through the DC universe, with visits to Hellblazer's John Constantine and the Justice League, a battle with Dr. Destiny, and a trip to Arkham Asylum. When that story arc finishes Sandman truly begins, with issue #8, one of my all-time favorites in the entire series. It's an issue called "The Sound of Her Wings" and it introduces us, subtly and quite beautifully, to Dream's older sister, Death. It also establishes the mood for the rest of the series. In fact, in his pitch, Neil Gaiman said it would "basically be a mood piece," and it's widely accepted that this issue is where the obligations to DC and the "origin" end, and the real Sandman begins.

From there, we get to see exactly who Dream is, how he interacts with the other Endless in his family, and how he is perceived by other cultures. I won't spoil the joy of experiencing the story arcs for yourself as they unfold, but we visit a serial killer convention, discover Dream's connection to William Shakespeare, and see what happens when he falls in love with a mortal (a storyline that comes back more than once over the life of the series.) For those of us who have read all 75 issues, we can also see that Neil Gaiman knew exactly where he was going and exactly how he was going to get there from the very beginning.

I said that it's hard to overstate the significance and impact that Sandman had on an industry and on a generation of artists, writers, and readers . . . but I'll still try: without these stories and their critical and commercial success, there may not have been a Vertigo. There may not have been Preacher, Y: The Last Man, Fables, or 100 Bullets. There certainly wouldn't have been Death: The High Cost of Living, or Death: The Time of Your Life, and who knows if anyone would have given Neil Gaiman the freedom to pen and publish Neverwhere and American Gods?

Its historical significance aside, Sandman remains a series of simply outstanding, beautiful, thought-provoking, and unique stories, that have stood the test of time. While The Absolute Sandman Volume One is far too large and unwieldly to casually pick up and carry around, it's perfect for reading on the couch with a cup of tea. In fact, its size and stature invokes a bit of reverence that is well-earned by the stories inside. And if you happen to fall asleep with it open across your lap, well, you may just find your way into a rather remarkable Dreamscape.


[1] Of course, Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons deserve to be included in this revolution. Actually, it is required.
[2] That's an affiliate link. If you choose to purchase it through that link, I'll get a kickback that I'll honestly spend on more comic books.

Wil Wheaton is the author of Just A Geek. He hasn't been able to adequately explain to his wife exactly why he has and needs to keep all his comic books.

Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett's Good Omens is required reading for geeks who know where their towel is, and according to Gaiman, it's closer and closer to being made into a film by ubergeek director Terry Gilliam.

In keeping with the weirdness and wonder of the novel and all involved, however, there's a rather . . . interesting payment involved.

It's perfect, really, when you consider the material and the players. It must be nice to be a rich and famous author or director, so you can have this much fun with your material.

(from 10 Zen Monkeys via via boingboing)