Having been dubbed a “fairytale for adults” by big (and not so big) name reviewers, one might think that “Stardust” by Neil Gaiman would provide fantasy-loving bookworms with just the tale we’ve been looking for. For some it did, but I believe you have to be a true Gaiman fanatic that likes his style of prose to enjoy this novel—or have quite low standards for literature.

 

“Stardust” tells the tale of Tristran Thorn, a young man from the town of Wall in the English countryside; it does not straightforwardly say the time period of the book, but it is supposedly set in the late 1800s. Tristran, like many a youthful chap in stories such as these, is in love with the most beautiful girl he’s ever set eyes on. With her promise to marry him, he vows to retrieve a fallen star to ultimately win his ladylove. Through a gap in a wall to the east of the town and across the subsequent meadow beyond that wall, Tristran begins his quest where he encounters villains, royalty, romance and magical lands. This tale seems to provide the same scenarios as our childhood favorites, with the exception, of course, that it contains adult content not meant for adolescent persons.

So why was I, a fan of this genre, not particularly fond of this seemingly ideal novel? Let me count the ways.

 

To begin with, I felt most of Gaiman’s descriptions, while some beautifully written, were awkward and a bit overdone. I understand the need to be eloquent and creative with words, but more often than not, I had trouble figuring out what the author was trying to convey and wanted him to simply come out with it already. That should have been my first clue that I would not be fond of this book. Continuing through, I discovered that Gaiman does not really provide any character development; he gets by on what I consider the bare minimum. Apart from the handful of main characters (that are alone somewhat troublesome to keep track of and lack emotion), you will be quickly introduced to others, shuffled through equally quick scenes, and will wonder the point of meeting that character or why that scene was even included at all. I won’t even begin to explain how I felt Gaiman took the “easy way out” when writing the ending.

 

I am usually able to decipher whether I like a book or not within at least the first half of the novel, as well as become quite hooked on the material. It did not happen with this one; I spent the entirety of “Stardust” trying to decide whether I liked it, and felt no attachment whatsoever; an utter letdown for this bibliophile. This novel lacked the focus and depth it desperately needed in order for me to read it. Had it been written with more detail and purpose, I might have liked it more. I can only hope that if and when I view the film that the screenplay, acting and visuals will make up for what the novel lacks. It could possibly be one of the few times I will say that the film could be better than the book, and I don’t say that often.