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After watching a large chunk of internet heathenry wetting its collective knickers over this book, I was actually pretty disappointed. The lore is all solid, of course, in a textbooky way, but somehow it feels a bit dead on the page. The book definately tastes of warmed-up Sandman leftovers.
S
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L
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I'm getting increasingly bored of the now-hackneyed "Gods need to eat their malted worship-flakes or they get all scrawny" trope. And even if we accept that as the underlying mechanic, the knowledge that the One-Eyed Bastard and his drinking buddies aren't exactly short of mead-swilling devotees Stateside doesn't help one buy into the book. The melancholy notion of fading, unworshipped Gods ekeing out a living on crumbs from the pop-culture table is somewhat undermined by several gajillion AOLers calling themselves "Odhinnsson" or "Freyrsdottir" bitching because Thor's not in it and Odin wouldn't do that, ect. ect.
Do try to keep up, Neil.
Still sucked less than Written in Venom, though. |
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