While reading Neil Gaiman's American Gods, I was often stopped in the street by people who saw it in my hands and wanted to have an impromptu pow-wow about its greatness. I often have a book in my hands, and I've never before encountered such reactions, which I enjoyed more than the novel. Gaiman's narrative is imaginatively conceived, but it's composed of hundreds of pages of exposition preceding a battle that never commences. Gaiman tells a long shaggy-dog joke, in which humankind's various gods across the ages are revealed to be as gullible as their worshipers, subject to the manipulations of a rigged society that distracts us from our subservience with a trumped war between cultural factions that serve the same leader. It's quite resonant politically, but the novel is all theme. There's barely a plot, the characters are ciphers, and Gaiman's prose is lean and studiously workmanlike. The notion of gods as scared and foolish projections of their scared and foolish creators (for we are their gods) is poignant though, and it's this idea that's ostensibly captured readers' imaginations.