Neverwhere: The Author's Preferred Text

In his introduction to this book, Neil Gaiman writes that he wanted Neverwhere to do for adults what Alice in Wonderland, Narnia and The Wizard of Oz do for kids. At first, this is pleasant enough, but about halfway through the penny drops and you realise a grown man has written a whimsical, defeat-the-evil plot involving talking rats and hand-waving magic for other adults.

This might be fine if the writing was especially keen, or the story was original, but for something that is all about plumbing depths, Neverwhere is far too shallow. The world-building is a sort of free-association riff rather than a considered construction, and the writing style is like a more sedate Terry Pratchett but without any of the intelligent backing of show more Gaiman's erstwhile collaborator. The characters are underdeveloped, and Gaiman skims through the plot with great haste (mysteries, double-crosses, set-piece fights and riddles are solved and resolved perfunctorily whenever they occur; the ominous 'Ordeal' was so tame I actually screwed my face up in puzzlement).

This off-the-cuff, fantastical approach to storytelling makes the book a very quick read, but if you pause for just a moment it sinks the entire piece. The 'London Below' in which the story takes place is populated with people who "fell through the cracks in the world" (pg. 126), but this promising social conscience lasts about half a page – our protagonist, Richard, cannot fight it but will "just have to make the best of it". Richard is not even one of those who 'fell through the cracks'; he is the ordinary guy in the safe office job with the nice apartment who is pulled into the London Below in order to be its 'saviour'. (This is, in my opinion, wish-fulfilment on the same level as Bella from Twilight.) He returns from his quest to find a promotion, a penthouse suite and an eager young woman waiting for him.

When Richard is told by a work colleague that people who fall through the cracks don't go to a magical London Below but instead "sleep in shop doorways" and "freeze to death in the winter" (pg. 368), the book seems to expect us to side with Richard. Dissatisfied with his safe, easy life, Richard asks a homeless woman, "Have you ever got everything you ever wanted? And then realized it wasn't what you wanted at all?" (pg. 370), before jumping back into his fantasy land. The complacent Blairite vibe might be inevitable in a book written in and about 90s London, but it is harsher in hindsight when read in a modern Britain still trying to overcome the hangovers seeded by the 'I'm-posh-and-I'm-bored' mentality of the New Labour years.

'Alice in Wonderland for adults' sounds like an appealing literary conceit, until you realise that nowadays we just call it YA, and market it aggressively towards teenagers who'll never get the sort of life opportunities Richard tosses away. For them, the fantasy world is not a choice; it's the only escape, however fleeting. Neverwhere throws in a few murdered corpses and says 'fuck' once or twice, but it remains the literary equivalent of what Martin Scorsese meant when he said Marvel movies are like theme-park rides. Fast, safe and superficially entertaining, but hardly worth queuing up for. show less

In Neverwhere, Gaiman creates a picaresque fantasy in the tradition of L. Frank Baum and Lewis Carroll but with dark undertones and brutal violence, a vision of the Londoners who "fall through the cracks" and their fabulous, astounding, frightening, and magical city. Though I know this is one of Gaiman's most famous books, I knew very little about it going in, except that it took place in an alternate version of London, and I think my experience was greatly enriched by jumping in almost blind--I was constantly startled and exhilarated by the places and people he creates.

The plot is clearly based on The Wizard of Oz and Alice in Wonderland: an "ordinary" person (in this case, a young Scottish financial analyst named Richard Mayhew) is show more pulled into a magical world and spends the book seeking to get "home," by traveling through a succession of odd adventures that take place in strange and fabulous locations and meeting eccentric characters who help or hinder them on their way. Like Alice and Dorothy, Richard at first seems to have no agency of his own but is pulled inexorably forward by the choices of other people. However, around the 2/3 mark, he has a couple near-death experiences that reveal his inner strength, which comes as a surprise to Richard. These experiences shape his actions for the rest of the book and make him into much more than just a proxy for the reader, going bemusedly along for the ride. By the end his character has made a profound change that allows him to reorient his priorities and exercise his power of compassionate observation of the world.

I have read a few books by Gaiman and have always enjoyed them, but in Neverwhere I was astounded by the sheer brilliance of his world making and his frank homage to so many writers and artists who came before him. There is the evident influence of Baum and Carroll (and humorous, knowing references to them) but Gaiman also scans the more pragmatic, investigatory social work of Victorian authors and artists such as Gustave Dore, John Thomson, and Henry Mayhew (who I'm assuming must be the inspiration for Richard's last name). There are so many layers to his allusions--references to Shakespeare, Milton, and medieval lais jostle alongside The Jam's "Down in the Tube Station at Midnight" and urban legends of sewer alligators--that I'd need to read the book a few times to glean even half of them. And I think this will be one that I read and reread in my life. A fabulous, twisty, fun, and frightening book about my favorite city in the world--what could be better?

Updated January 2025: I originally wrote this review in December 2023. My admiration for Neverwhere stands, but I'm not sure I'll ever be able to read another book by Gaiman again. I wish I could separate the author from the art, but I can't do that right now. Nevertheless, I think my review is worth keeping up, in case it helps someone decide if the book is worth reading on its own merits. show less

I read this book because it came very highly recommended from a coworker and holy crap, it was good.

Ever since I read American Gods years ago, I have been of the opinion that Gaiman is a master world builder. He gives us enough views into the various corners of his world for us to begin to understand how things work, but not enough to uncover all the shadows.

The world in this particular book was very interesting in the ways that it reflected "real" London and yet captured points of past London.

The characters themselves were absolutely fantastic. The Marquis had me flip-flopping on whether or not he could be considered a "good guy" because he never seemed to be telling the whole truth and when he went with Door to her father's study, I show more thought he was stealing stuff. I ended up really liking him and thought of him as good guy in the end, though a little gruff.

Door was interesting, mainly because of her abilities, but she seemed a little pale in comparison to the plethora of side characters we saw.

Speaking of side characters, they all were unique and a testament to Gaiman's ability to create even side characters that stand way out.

Another character (or set, in this case) that I really liked were the baddies, Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar. I loved the "polished" way they spoke, like murderous, evil gentlemen. Their method of violence was terrible of course, but they were amazing evil guys. Their ultimate end actually had me laughing a little.

The ending of the story didn't really come as a surprise to me. I've read others that end in a similar manner, but more than anything, I really empathized with Richard. He just came to the end of an absolutely amazing, terrifying, but fun adventure that was so different from his standard, dull life, that when he eventually gets back to said life, he can't tolerate it. He finds himself longing for the wonderful strangeness of London Below. I love how he manages to get back to it, as well as the fact that it was the Marquis who leads him back. "Well, are you coming?" show less

It's a good bet that even if you've read [b:Neverwhere|14497|Neverwhere (London Below, #1)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1348747943l/14497._SX50_.jpg|16534] before, you haven't read this version of Neverwhere before. ("Introduction to this Text" by the author)

He's right. I loved the "original" version, but this one contains additional text from various drafts and versions in addition to Chris Riddell's illustrations (which I wish were greater in quantity). My original review stands, but times ten:

To say that Richard Mayhew was not very good at heights would be perfectly accurate, but would fail to give the full picture; it would be like describing the planet Jupiter as bigger than a show more duck. Richard hated clifftops, and high buildings; somewhere not far inside of him was the fear – the stark, utter, silently screaming terror – that if he got too close to the edge, then something would take over, and he would find himself walking to the edge of a clifftop and then he would just step off into space. It was as if he could not entirely trust himself, and that scared Richard more than the simple fear of falling ever could. So he called it vertigo, and hated it and himself, and kept away from high places.

Richard Mayhew is an ordinary Londoner, with an ordinary flat, an ordinary job, and an ordinary girlfriend: Jessica, never "Jess," who is very ambitious and determined to make Richard fit her mold of the perfect boyfriend/fiance/husband. Then one evening, he stops (against Jessica's wishes) to help a strange girl who is obviously injured, and he finds himself plunging off that metaphorical cliff. Soon his ordinary life is stripped away and he finds himself in London Below.

“There are little pockets of old time in London, where things and places stay the same, like bubbles in amber,” she explained. “There’s a lot of time in London, and it has to go somewhere—it doesn’t all get used up at once.”
“I may still be hung over,” sighed Richard. “That almost made sense.”

This novel is so many things: a love poem to London, a tale of self-discovery, an adventure/quest with hints of [b:Alice's Adventures in Wonderland|6324090|Alice's Adventures in Wonderland (Alice's Adventures in Wonderland, #1)|Lewis Carroll|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1391204048l/6324090._SX50_.jpg|55548884] and [b:The Wonderful Wizard of Oz|236093|The Wonderful Wizard of Oz (Oz, #1)|L. Frank Baum|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1398003737l/236093._SY75_.jpg|1993810].

“We have to get the... the thing I got... to the Angel. And then he'll tell Door about her family, and he'll tell me how to get home."
Lamia looked at Hunter with delight. "And he can give you brains," she said, cheerfully, "and me a heart.”

This is my sixth Gaiman book, including two that are kinda-sorta for children ([b:Coraline|17061|Coraline|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1493497435l/17061._SY75_.jpg|2834844] and [b:Fortunately, the Milk|17349203|Fortunately, the Milk|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1380963103l/17349203._SY75_.jpg|23686035]) and one that's a retelling ([b:Norse Mythology|37903770|Norse Mythology|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1516128292l/37903770._SX50_.jpg|51396954]). Of the three adult novels ([b:The Ocean at the End of the Lane|15783514|The Ocean at the End of the Lane|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1497098563l/15783514._SY75_.jpg|21500681], [b:American Gods|30165203|American Gods (American Gods, #1)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1462924585l/30165203._SY75_.jpg|1970226], and this one), this is my favorite or tied with AG. I love the way Gaiman writes (and thinks), the way he mixes the dark underbelly of the world with droll humor.

There are four simple ways for the observant to tell Mr. Croup and Mr. Vandemar apart: first, Mr. Vandemar is two and a half heads taller than Mr. Croup; second, Mr. Croup has eyes of a faded china blue, while Mr. Vandemar's eyes are brown; third, while Mr. Vandemar fashioned the rings he wears on his right hand out of the skulls of four ravens, Mr. Croup has no obvious jewelery; fourth, Mr. Croup likes words, while Mr. Vandemar is always hungry. Also, they look nothing at all alike.

The unrepentantly evil Misters Croup and Vandemar are two of my favorite characters (not in the sense that I'd like to spend any time within 5,000 miles of them ever, but in the sense that they're delightful to read about), but I love them all: bumbling Richard, competent Door (the injured girl that gets Richard in the whole mess), the rakish Marquis, and the cast of supporting characters.

I initially added [b:Neverwhere Illustrated Edition|36995178|Neverwhere Illustrated Edition AUTOGRAPHED by Neil Gaiman (SIGNED EDITION)|Neil Gaiman|https://i.gr-assets.com/images/S/compressed.photo.goodreads.com/books/1512701769l/36995178._SY75_.jpg|16534] to my to-read shelf, but was given the paperback version by one of my book club ladies, and my local library system does not appear to have the illustrated version. However, I feel like I missed so many little treasures the first time through, and really want to see how [a:Chris Riddell|59749|Chris Riddell|https://images.gr-assets.com/authors/1276920548p2/59749.jpg] imagined the characters, so I'll probably be buying that version soon.

("Soon" ended up being several years later, and then it took me a few more years to finally fit this version into my reading schedule. I'm so glad I did, and it definitely won't be the last time.) show less

I've been reading too much serious/mostly serious fantasy recently, because I'd forgotten how fun and funny a wacky Gaiman adventure can be. [b:Neverwhere|23462649|Neverwhere|Neil Gaiman|https://images.gr-assets.com/books/1454334106s/23462649.jpg|16534] is sprinkled with dry puns and sly references that constantly keep me chuckling, giving Gaiman credit for the gotcha. But it's also host to great pacing and worldbuilding that keeps me engaged for a charming tale of growth. We end up learning to how to live once you fall through the cracks of London and of life, and then *letting* yourself stay fallen. What does it take for you to come back when you hit your lowest lows, literally in this case? I don't know that my personal answer will show more include facing off against a terrible foe, but maybe it'll be something close. show less

I’ve recently reread Neil Gaiman's "Neverwhere" and it exceeded my expectations from when I read it years ago. It took me on a thrilling and rather surreal journey through the fictitious underworld of London.

From the very beginning, Gaiman drew me in with his vivid descriptions of the bustling city and the mundane world of Richard Mayhew, the protagonist. The storyline takes an unexpected turn when Richard helps an injured young woman and becomes immersed in a dangerous and supernatural world. The plot is full of twists and turns, making it impossible to predict what will happen next.

The world-building in "Neverwhere" is nothing short of remarkable. Gaiman's imagination brings to life the vivid and fantastical setting of “London show more Below”, a parallel universe that exists beneath the streets of London. He creates a fascinating and complex society of outcasts who are living in the shadows and forgotten corners of the city. The individual characters are just as captivating, each one with their unique backstory and quirks that make them feel like real people.

Gaiman's writing style is eloquent, descriptive, and immersive. He has a way of painting a vivid picture with his words that makes the story come to life in my mind. I found myself completely lost in the story at times.

In conclusion, "Neverwhere" is a fantastic novel that I would highly recommend to anyone who enjoys fantasy or just a good adventure story.

Four out of five stars.

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Ceterum censeo Putin esse delendam show less

This story takes place in the London underworld-- a world unseen by those above; a sort of alternate dimension. Richard Mayhew is going about his business as an ordinary (perhaps extraordinarily ordinary) Londoner. About three years after moving to London from Scotland, he is working an ordinary job, and has somehow found himself engaged to Jessica, a beautiful if temperamentally questionable gallery worker. But on the night of an important dinner with Jessica's boss, Richard finds an injured girl on the street with the unusual name of Door. His encounter with Door spoils Jessica's plans with her boss, and Richard's life is totally upended. The next thing he knows, he is in London Below, where everything is very familiar and yet show more completely different from anything he's ever known.

London Below is a whole world that exists down in the underground tunnels and subway platforms and sewers. It's a world where rats are respected members of society with translators that speak for them, where floating markets pop up like raves. A dangerous place where the dead may walk again and the living are just grateful to be living another day.

Door has a special gift of being able to see and open hidden doors to other places, and she just lost her entire family in the most brutal of fashions. Now the same men who killed her family are after her, and Richard has become the most unlikely of champions.

I was first introduced to the author when a girlfriend of a co-worker gave me American Gods to read. I was just getting back into reading after a hiatus from fiction, and I had never read fantasy before. I just could not open my mind enough to embrace his novel, and quickly gave up on it, shaking my head and asking, "What the heck was that??"

However my mind is a little more open these days to fantasy and I decided to give the author another try. I'll admit that I was nervous about it.

Sometimes fantasy can ask too much of me. I try to keep an open mind, but at times fantasy will completely defy physical laws. And I dislike lazy writing where absolutely anything can happen to propel a storyline forward. For instance, you may have a character in an impossible situation, so the writer has a bush turn into a horse so the character can ride off to safety, or something equally ridiculous. That sort of thing frustrates me, as ANYONE can do ANYTHING when there are no rules!

In Neverwhere, there is a logic to the insanity. As bizarre as the story could get and as outlandish as the characters were (often there was an early 1900s London feel to the world below), it was almost...believable.

My final word: I can see what all of the hullabaloo is about surrounding this author. The London underground was the perfect setting for one of his stories. It's rich and loamy, dank and dreary. You can almost smell the mildew and mold, screwing up your eyes to see your way in the dark. His writing is divine (and divining), his ability to draw characters so fully that I can almost see them, smell their perfume, hear the rustle of their heavy garb, and I can feel the cold, damp concrete wall under my hand as I make my way through the tunnels as I follow them blindly. And I will follow them blindly. I'll follow them anywhere in the Neverwhere. show less