He didn’t learn not to smoke pot. Give me a break! Working your body to an extreme is naturally accompanied by kicking back to an extreme.
No. He learned he can no longer trust his friends. Michael Phelps learned that, now that he is famous, “friends” will happily sell compromising photos of him to tabloids, tell the media that he lost at beer pong, and try to sell his party goods on e-bay.
He’s 24 years old, and he’s learned that fame and trust are mutually exclusive. I feel sorry for him.
One to go.
I re-read the whole Sandman series every couple of years. It continues to reward me with surprises and insights. I’m never sure I understand it. So I was delighted to discover (via Alas, a blog) this essay on the meaning of the Sandman.
[Sandman] turns out to concern the decisions one makes about how to be an adult, and the options Gaiman presents have a distinctly ’90s inflection: it may be Gen-Y’s gateway drug to high literature, but when considered in the company of Slacker, Before Sunrise, Reality Bites, Nevermind, Vitalogy, Wonder Boys and, yes, The Corrections, it’s every inch a Gen-X book, a compendium of slacker lassitude, dot-com ambition, Starbucks ennui and battle-0f-Seattle fury.
Sandman asks this ethical and political question: Is it better to accept that the world is the way it is and its constant awful tumult will never change, and thus either do your work to the best of your ability or drop out and do your own thing on the fringes; or should you refuse to accept the reality principle and hew to ethical absolutes with the purpose of making the world better than it is?
Totally read the whole thing.
