Anansi Boys - Being John Malkovich

Neil Gaiman’s humorous writing style made Anansi Boys fun to read. Though I’m not greatly familiar with him, I’ve noticed that Gaiman appears to have a deeply rooted interest in spiders, shape-shifters, and mythology in general. In the sort of way that his friend Alan Moore will write in praise of writing as an art form, I found Anansi Boys to be a sort of ode to storytelling and, of course, song. The whole story celebrates itself and the other many tales it’s based off of.

It’s a bit interesting that Charlie remained uncool even after discovering he was the son of a god. There are a number of books and films that spring to mind where the main character starts off as a social misfit or normal everyman but after learning that they are the son of Poseidon or nephew of Santa Claus they travel to Mount Olympus or the North Paul and find their sense of belonging. I suppose Fat Charlie does find his sense of belonging, but it takes him longer; all the way to the end of the book. Which, by the way, I wasn’t expecting such a happy ending from Gaiman. In a way it was a let down, because the book had a consistent tone of humor and irony and everything that happened to Fat Charlie was chaotic madness. To end on a key of a perfect “happily ever after” betrays the spirit of the Anansi tales.

What I appreciate most about having read this book is learning about the Anansi stories. As a child I was read to about the Br’er Rabbit, so it’s very interesting to find out from Neil Gaiman that it was actually an Anansi Spider fable repackaged.  

It’s easy to see similarities between Anansi Boys and Charlie Kaufman’s Being John Malkovich. If Being John Malkovich is magical realism then Anansi Boys is mythical realism. They’re both whimsical, witty and surreal, but otherwise take place in normal everyday life.

Kaufman’s film drove home the theme of identity and the crisis of identity, not just with a magical portal that lets you escape into someone else’s mind but also with a protagonist who is an ardent puppeteer. I thought that was rather brilliant for two reasons. The most obvious being how he talked about living through the puppets. He ended up treating people the same way as he did his puppets, by trying to manipulate them and, literally in John’s case, trying to live through them. But the second reason making the main character an unlikeable puppeteer seems so genius is because of how obscure puppets have become. Of course he wouldn’t feel comfortable in his own skin, no one appreciates what it is he does, or rather – as it goes when you become so engrossed with what you do – what he is. He’s a puppeteer, and of what relevancy are those these days? It’s the perfect person to portray that existential meltdown that may be looming in the backs of every one of the seven billion minds travelling on this little blue dot. I fell in love with film.