Let’s go with American Gods for $1,000, Alex.

I wanted, desperately wanted, to dedicate a post to My Little Pony sex toys. I really did. Because apparently there’s a larger-than-life inflatable Rainbow Dash love doll available, for those who aren’t ashamed to own such a thing. There’s also a plush Lyra Heartstrings with a receptacle sewn in, if you think there’s anything at all socially redeemable about such a thing.

I also desperately want to believe that more than 90% of Brony culture is ironic in nature. I try to remain free of judgement, tolerant of all cultural choices, and encouraging of diversity, but there’s a tiny part of me that believes you should seek therapy if you can get it up for either of these.

So, on to American Gods, because it’s far more important, because it’s literature, honest to goodness literature that causes a person to think and perceive and exercise a muscle other than the penis. I’ll try not to subtract points for being written about America by an Englishman. I mean, fuck it, Nick Cave does it, and he’s fucking Australian.

In American Gods, Shadow, in prison for doing something stupid, is about to be released when he discovered his wife has been killed. He’s released a couple of days early, and encounters his first fascinating stranger on the way home.

Always watch out for those strangers, especially the ones that seem to know too much about you.

The book seems to take Aleister Crowley’s polytheism to a literal extreme, portraying various gods as inhabiting physical entities in an effort to recruit him for work. Seems the god business is suffering a bit in the current climate.

I’m not finished with the story yet, but my favorite moment so far is when the television god inhabits Lucille Ball during an I Love Lucy rerun, and begins to unbutton her blouse, offering Shadow a peek. “C’mon, haven’t you ever wanted to see Lucy’s tits?”

By the way, according to the internet, they’re available.

 I’m relieved that American Gods is so much more solid than Fragile Things, and understandably so. It’s meant to be a work that stands on its own, as opposed to Fragile Things, which never claimed to be anything more than a stew of leftovers and shells. I suspect I was correct about it being the wrong first exposure to Neil’s work. But it was still very engaging and entertaining.

[amazon asin=0380789035&template=iframe image]