Image copyright: nrkbeta, CC BY-SA 2.0, via Wikimedia Commons
I haven’t been to many rock concerts, but I suspect I now know what it’s like. I went to a Neil Gaiman reading.
BTW: This is the final part in a three-part series chronicling all the author events I attended in April. Part 1 was about Colson Whitehead and Part 2 was about David Sedaris. Part three is about to begin.
The Event
After a 30-minute sojourn into Schenectady, New York, I parked on level two of a parking garage near Proctor’s Theatre, then noticed a girl with a sparkling black dress and purple hair. Only the most interesting people come out to see Neil Gaiman, and many of them are moderately goth (like the author himself).
I purchased tickets to this event almost three years prior. Originally scheduled for 2020, the pandemic said “LOL” to that plan, sweeping in like the big bad wolf to huff and puff and blow the date to 2021, then 2022. Fortunately, the final date stuck.
I attended with my brother-in-law Dan (shoutout to Dan), who read the entirety of Gaiman’s Sandman catalogue in a matter of months. Once we met up, we proceeded into the theater (theatre?) for an evening with Neil.
The Author
If you’re not familiar with Neil Gaiman’s work, you soon will be; his masterful Sandman comic series comes to Netflix in August. He’s also penned novels for adults (American Gods, Good Omens, Stardust), children’s books (Coraline), movie scripts (Beowulf), and even nonfiction (The View from the Cheap Seats). Name a genre and he’s written it.
Proctor’s was sold out, and when Neil took the stage wearing his customary all-black attire, that sold-out crowd erupted. I snagged a pic:
That glow though.
What’s that burst of light onstage? Is Neil some sort of radiant angel? Well, no—this is just what happens when you take a picture in the dark. But hey, judging by the ovation, he might as well be divine.
To kick off the festivities, Neil commented on how this event was supposed to take place two years prior. “Sorry I was late,” he said. He then read several pieces, beginning with “Credo,” a nonfiction piece written in response to the Charlie Hebdo murders carried out by Al-Qaeda. For his second reading, he asked if we wanted something funny or scary, to which the overwhelming response was, “Scary!” So, we got “Click Clack the Rattlebag.”
After that, I lost track of the readings. I know he did “Chivalry” and “Making a Chair,” though I don’t recall the order. He also read a piece I’d never heard before and never caught the name of, mostly because I was afraid of another member of the audience.
Her name was Holly. I know this because, at some point halfway through the show, she stood up and announced her name, then informed the crowd that she’d invented a device to “solve the bipartisan machine.” This really happened—you can ask Dan if you don’t believe me. It was so bizarre and unexpected that, for a moment, nobody spoke.
Neil tried to diffuse the situation with humor. “Holly,” he said, “I should warn you, this crowd might tear you limb from limb.” Holly kept going, though, and the good people of Schenectady began to jeer. One concerned citizen even offered a helpful recommendation: “Shut your face!” At that point, Holly shrugged, said, “Okay,” then reclaimed her seat and did not speak again. I suppose the bipartisan machine will continue to chug along.
Aside from that, it was a wonderful night. Between readings, Neil answered questions, many from educators and librarians. A few I noted…
Q: Of all your characters, which was the most fun to write?
A: Delirium from Sandman. “She did her own dialogue.”
Q: You have been described as critic proof. How does that feel?
A: “I am? Oh, good.”
Q: What advice do you have for young writers?
A: “Get into trouble.”
My notes grow sparse from there, probably because I was enjoying myself. I did write “my butt hurts,” though that’s to be expected when you’re seated for two hours. Yet no one remained seated when the evening ended. We gave Neil a standing, raucous ovation. It truly did feel like a rock concert.
The Takeaways
Neil Gaiman continues to be the sort of author I aspire to be. He’s made a living from writing what interests him, whether it be adult fiction, comic books, nonfiction, screenplays, or anything else.
For me, Neil exemplifies creative freedom. And that’s a goal worth striving for.
Kyle A. Massa is a comic fantasy author living somewhere in upstate New York with his wife, their daughter, and three wild animals. His published works include three books and several short stories. When he’s not writing, he enjoys reading, running, and drinking coffee.
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