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This was one of the strangest novels I’ve ever read. And it really resonated with me. American Gods is a fantasy. Sort of. A murder mystery romance. Sort of. Frankly, it doesn’t really belong to any category. That's what's so exciting about it.

It begins with Shadow, an imprisoned convict, who learns some devastating news upon his release. Unsure of where he fits into the world outside, he accepts a job from a man named Mr. Wednesday. He goes on a road trip, and encounters strange things. That’s basically the gist of it. There’s an underlying plot as well, but it seems supplementary. The real magic within the novel is within the details. The strange mannerisms and allusions, the quirks. And the imagery is stunning, but also disturbing at the same time.

Halfway through, I couldn’t decide whether I loved or hated this novel. It seemed meandering and plotless. At the same time, though, it took an unflinching look at American culture and mixed it with twisted and sometimes horrific elements of fantasy and romance. The characters were offbeat and intriguing.

Somehow, the hundreds of strings all wrapped up in the end. I don’t know how Gaiman did it. I had abandoned all hope that the characters introduced in the beginning would ever be heard from again. It was gutsy, strange, and beautiful.