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23 of 24 people found the following review helpful:
5.0 out of 5 stars
Death Takes a (Working) Holiday, April 23, 2000
Meet Sexton Furnival. Sexton is a well-spoken, intelligent lad, whose best friend is the mute, wheelchair-bound kid in the apartment down the corridor from he and his mother's (an unfortunately not quite burned-out hippie) and a dead ringer for Kurt Cobain (both physically and in attitude). Here's what Sexton isn't: in love with anyone, or hating anyone. In other words, his life ain't feeling particularly Hollywood right now. He doesn't feel the point to Life. So, in typical short-sighted 90's-youth fashion, he's going to take his own life. In a garbage dump, of all places. And for his trouble, he gets pinned under a fridge.Enter his savior, a young gal by the name of Didi, who we (being the faithful fans of Gaiman's Sandman that I know we all are) instantly recognize as the one and only Death of the Endless, looking slightly less pale, more chipper (if that's possible) and a little younger (about 16) than usual. She's spending her one day-per-century as an orphaned girl living alone in NYC. Sexton takes the information in stride. ("Uh... right. So. I suppose you must do a lot of drugs.") Problems ensue, of course. Mad Hettie, who has popped up in Sandman (Preludes & Nocturnes, for the uninitiated), holds Sexton at gunpoint (well... pointy broken wine bottlepoint), demanding that Didi go off and fetch her heart for her. She's hidden it, you see, and forgotten where she left it. And a chap by the name of "The Eremite" is after Death's signature ankh she wears about her neck. Here's what Death: The High Cost of Living isn't: Plot-heavy. All the better for it. Both plots sort of fizzle, but in good ways. This story's not about would-be masters of life and death (that plot ends with Eremite being kicked out of a restaurant by the owner) or an old woman getting her heart back (but a sweet moment it is indeed); it's about a kid regaining interest in Going On. It isn't Hollywood, and all the melodrama which that word summons up. What there ARE, are lots of Gaiman moments. Understated, fleeting, quiet, human moments that make you fall in love with bit characters. Especially in the sequence at The Undercut club. Foxglove sings a ditty about that poor Judy girl who died in the aforementioned Sandman vol.1 and Hazel, her very-pregnant lover, who relates the pain of nicotine-withdrawal during pregnancy. Theo, the thuggish, unsuccessfully double-crossing acolyte of the Eremite, meets with a bitter end, but his passing shows us more about Death's passion for life than anyone knew. My favorite is the anonymous soul at Undercut, who relates her "friend's" brush with childhood sexual abuse and subsequent attempted suicide to Sexton, only to have him give her the brush-off. Sexton and Didi shine together, whether locked in a warehouse, playfully tossing around a Russian doll; perusing the merits of hot dogs' chemical aftertaste; or discussing her Day in the Life by a water fountain in Central Park. (I could be wrong, but isn't that the same one that Dream was sitting in, feeding the pigeons, when Death first walked into our unsuspecting lives in Sandman #8? Really need to brush up on my New York geography.) It isn't an "R-rated" human-misery-fest. It's amazingly very PG-13. Let's check the key words again, shall we? Death. Suicide. Sex abuse. But aside from very occasional cursing and one instance some barely "on-camera" violence, this is something that anyone can pick up. It's one of the few Vertigo books I own I'd feel 100 percent confident my family would read and love. Bachalo's cartoony/sketchy art is expressive, magic and real. At a lean 100 or so pages, this is really a direct book. It's got a story to tell, and it tells it, unlike some volumes of The Sandman. (Though it does tie into the second Death mini, Time of Your Life, but that's neither here nor there, as I've not read it.) If "It's a Wonderful Life" had been made in comic form, in 1993, this is what it would be (and who wouldn't take a Winona Ryder look-alike over Clarence, the second-rate... sorry, second-class angel any day of the week?). Oh, and there's a couple o' neat supplementary tidbits: Tori Amos' introduction, Tom Peyer's text piece on the history of the character Death, and, of course, the "Death Talks About Life" six-pager illustrated by Dave McKean, which gives frank information about AIDS, condom instructions and how life is a sexually-transmitted disease. Useful stuff, that. So. In a sentence: one of my personal favorite of Gaiman's works, and I hope yours too. Pick it up and feel glad to be alive.
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