When I read on Neil Gaiman's blog in June that a new Sandman collection, which would be recolored, (the comic book version of remastering), leather-bound, and include scripts and other unpublished material about the series, I began an official countdown to the release of The Absolute Sandman which reached zero last week.
Though I loved it the first time around, and I own mint copies of each original issue, boarded and bagged and stored in a climate-controlled location beside the Ark of the Covenant, where they are looked after by top men, I haven't read Sandman since its original run. After I picked up The Absolute Sandman, my initial excitement was quickly tempered with a sobering reality: what if, in reading it as a 34 year-old man, it didn't live up to the mythical status I bequeathed upon it as a 16 year-old boy?
I've spent every free moment since I brought it home reading it, and I wrote about it in this week's Geek in Review. (Once again, there's a NSFW thumbnail at the bottom of the page, but the content of my story is SFW.)
