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All the Bright and Sparkly Things

American Gods

Mizzieshizznell

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Daily writing prompt
What book could you read over and over again?
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What book could you read over and over again?

Technically, I’ve read The Ocean at the End of the Lane (also by Neil Gaiman) one time MORE than I’ve read American Gods, but I still have the uncut version of American Gods left to try out. My TBR keeps growing, and I just got a Norse mythology romantasy in the mail today.

I love the premise that immigrants into the United States literally brought their gods with them, that divinity evolved and took on fresh form upon American soil. It’s just a very cool idea.

Plus, the Americanization of the Norse god Odin has some very amusing opinions of Midwestern women LOL.

There’s also an amazing scene that takes place at House on the Rock, here in Wisconsin, which was super magical in the Netflix series adaptation.

American Gods has mythology, mystery, passion, loss, and danger. It’s just dark enough without creating a miasma of unease that could provoke nightmares.

I don’t reread super often, with the possible exception of poetry, but I do reread Gaiman.

Today, I’m super thankful for all the everyday magic, and the occasional moment of uncanny otherworldliness, like viewing a solar eclipse. If you were anywhere within its path, I hope you got to witness it. The partial sun I saw looked like a crescent moon, only a gorgeous glowing fiery gold.

3 responses

  1. Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu Avatar
    Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu

    This post feels like finding a strange old coin in your pocket and realizing it belongs to a god who’s slightly annoyed you forgot them.

    “American Gods” isn’t just a book—it’s a haunted road trip through forgotten prayers and misplaced beliefs. It’s like opening a dusty suitcase and finding mythology, mystery, and mischief all packed together… with a warning label.

    The idea that people carry their gods with them is both beautiful and spooky. Like emotional luggage that whispers at night. We don’t just move across countries—we drag our hopes, fears, and imaginary friends along too.

    And that House on the Rock? Feels like the perfect Airbnb for gods on a budget.

    Your eclipse moment was the cherry on top. The universe winked at you. And honestly, not everyone gets winked at by the sky.

    Brilliant post. You mixed wonder with weird in just the right amounts. Like coffee with a shot of stardust.

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    1. Mizzieshizznell Avatar
      Mizzieshizznell

      What a gorgeous reply!

      The accusations against Gaiman broke just as I was midway through my third read of American Gods– the “author’s preferred text” I’d purchased quite some time ago.

      Before that occurred, the novel felt so synchronistic. I discovered he’d mentioned my hometown, parenthetically, along with Los Angeles, where I’d lived following that, and, of course, my present home state of Wisconsin. I agree with everything you said about the book. It is brilliantly written. But I’m not sure if I’ll finish my reread at this point. I was pretty sickened.

      But I have decided not to delete any of my old content about him. Honestly, I’d forgotten about that particular post.

      I at least take solace, knowing that Odin and all the rest of them, are bigger than any one storyteller, that mythos belongs to everyone.

      I have since posted a fresh answer to this question, since it seems to have popped back up, once again, in Daily Prompts.

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  2. Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu Avatar
    Kalyanasundaram Kalimuthu

    I understand how that feels. It’s like building a quiet temple in your heart, only to find out the architect had cracks in his soul. But the temple still stands. It’s still yours.

    Sometimes, stories walk into our lives like long-lost friends. They sit beside our memories and light little lamps in dark corners. So when the storyteller stumbles, it shakes us. Not just as readers, but as people who trusted the voice behind the words.

    But maybe that’s the strange power of myth — it doesn’t belong to one person. It grows in many minds. Like seeds carried by the wind, stories land where they are needed. They bloom inside us, no matter who planted them.

    I’m glad you didn’t erase your old thoughts. They were true when you wrote them. And they still speak to something real. Sometimes, even after disappointment, the story quietly stays with us. Like a candle left burning in a room we don’t enter anymore — still glowing, still waiting.

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