I like Death. She has more personality than the Sandman, isn't so dour all the time, and looks less like Neil Gaiman (not that I don't appreciate Neil's whacky hair). Consequently, I actually enjoy her installments in Gaiman's massive series more than many of the Sandman sequences (of which I have only read the first large volume). Gaiman has a way of personifying the most terrifying notion in our collective mind that makes it seem natural and adventurous, and of course, inevitable. And cute, in a goth, early 90s sort of way.

This collection is a good group of stories, from familiar characters to angsty teenagers to would-be superheroes too distressed over their own pathos to do anything with their power. The collection includes one-offs and series installments, and it's all good. There is wisdom here, some real philosophy, and jokes, and all in all it's an enjoyable read. I'll probably forget it all, as I believe I had already forgotten it all - having read some of this collection a decade or so ago - but that's all right. The fact that I can read it again and find enjoyment and new ways of looking at big concepts is testament to Gaiman's power as a writer. Perhaps someday I will find the nerve to tackle the daunting collection that is the Sandman.