One day Gaiman smashed into my bedroom like the incredible hulk and yelled at me to read this. Of course, I had to oblige since a crazed British man in a black trench coat busted into my room. “excuse me Mr. Gaiman” I said. “You do know this Sandman book is all about death right?” Gaiman proceeded to power bomb me through my own bed before he flew off into the stars. In my confused daze on my destroyed bed, I realized that Gaiman was right. This book is just as amazing as the original series. This book is essentially a series of short stories about the character Death. Each story has a unique feel to it and at times I feel like the stories were written by a different author. But then I remember that it’s Gaiman and he’s made of magic. Right, when I think I’m getting bored with a story Gaiman comes back into my room and sucker punches me. Damn you, Gaiman, Damn you and your glorious writing.