Fragile Things

One of the many blessings of a blog focused on meat is that it has now provided me an excuse to say something nice about Neil Gaiman's latest book, Fragile Things.

My devotion is Gaiman is unquestionable. He has undisputably conquered the world of comics. His novels waver between the terrific (Neverwhere) to the pretty good (Anansi Boys). He's even begun to take the plunge into Hollywood.

Fragile Things, however, I would hesitate to include amongst his successes.

It is a collection of previously-uncollected short stories and poems, most of which, to be perfectly honest, would have been better off still-uncollected (at least, in that case, they remain collect-ible).

There are some very bright moments in the collection. The one that has gathered the most attention is the republication of 'A Study in Emerald', Gaiman's Lovecraftian pastiche of Sherlock Holmes. It's simply terrific (and also still available in its original place of publication, the collection Shadows Over Baker Street- which I'm much happier to recommend).

The second, more carnivorous one, is 'The Sunbird', an amusing yarn about a gluttonous Epicurian Club, who quest to eat every species in the world. The story is simple and original (if slightly predictable), but the strength is in the detail - the characters are all amusingly outlined, and, even better, their descriptions of their culinary conquests are hilarious.

Boasts one member, 'We've eaten squid, and giant squid, and humongous squid,... We've eaten lemmings and Tasmanian tigers. We've eaten bower bird and ortolan and peacock. We've eaten the dolphin fish (which is not the mammal dolphin) and the giant sea turtle and the Sumatran rhino.' (277)

I was also tickled to find that one of the members waxes nostalgic about the mammoth ribs, and regrets that he didn't have Kansas City barbecue sauce for the occasion.

"If you're still hungry, you can have another helping of Sabretooth Tiger."

So, happily, even if 'Fragile Things' isn't Gaiman's finest hour, it can still join the shelf of meat fiction - salus in caro, as they say.