Every once in a while, a book will mysteriously find it’s way onto your bedside table just in the nick of time. These books usually jump up and smack me dead in the face. American Gods is one of those books. Magically, I somehow came across this novel over 5 years ago. I must have thought it sounded appealing for some reason. I then proceeded to let it rot away on my Goodreads “Want to Read” list for a long time. (like a shirt in the back of my closet that kept getting passed over). Recently, in the way these things seem to work out, something compelled me to order it. I don’t recall what and I don’t recall why. It just called to me at the precisely perfect moment.
Last night, I published my most recent blog post and the accompanying podcast episode entitled SETTING THE TABLE wherein we explored how humans have used story telling since the beginning of time to symbolically assist us in navigating life’s mysteries. Today, I finished American Gods. The universe was listening.
American Gods is a tough book to categorize. Gaiman simply refuses to paint himself into a genre corner here. Part mythology, part fantasy, part horror (with a little murder mystery, Americana road trip and a pinch of comedy relief sprinkled on top for good measure). #ItsComplicated.
This book was published in 2002. However, its underlining message radiates brighter and becomes more relevant to modern society with each passing year. Its not for everyone – and really – I have no idea what encouraged me to read it. It doesn’t check any of the normal boxes for me. I’ve never really gravitated to any book that flirts with fantasy or science fiction, and, at 500 + pages, its a little intimidating to start. Nonetheless, I did it (and I’m sure glad I did.)
You can read a lot about this book, the plot, characters and so forth on hundreds of websites. We won’t go there. What I do want to dive into is the correlation of some themes in this book to the work we are doing here at The Story of Us Project.
What if the gods we believe in aren’t eternal?
What if they only live because we choose to believe in them?
What happens to these gods when we stop believing and elect to replace them with new, shinier ones?
Stories create Gods… and not the other way around.
Story telling is so much more than entertainment. The stories we pass on shape our identities, give meaning to our lives, and bind cultures together. In American Gods, this truth is brought to life through a sprawling and engrossing tale where gods live and die based on human belief. Gaiman’s novel reminds us that the stories we tell—about ourselves, our past, and our future—have real power. I believe that, at its core, American Gods is about the struggle for survival of ancient myth in the modern world. The old gods are fading because people no longer believe in them and because we’ve stopped telling their stories – particularly here in America, a country born on the backs of immigrants. When people brought their myths and legends from far off places like Africa, Asia and Europe, their gods naturally came with them. In American Gods, these ancient deities are ready to wage war and find themselves forced to adapt to modern Americans or die off forever.
Odin (the Norse “Allfather”, once revered as the chief god of wisdom, magic, poetry, and war) has reinvented himself as Mr. Wednesday, a modern man hustling for attention, running a two man con and racking up sacrifices just to stay alive. The God Anansi (once a prominent figure in West African and Caribbean folklore, often depicted as a trickster spider known for his cunning, story telling and ability to outsmart his opponents) survives in America as Mr. Nancy, a well dressed Black Man relegated to living off his charm and charisma. Somehow, this book weaves in some 30 other characters based off Old Gods – everyone from the Lakotan, Wisakedjak to the Hindu God, Ganesha – all reimaged to hide conspicuously in plain sight while they gather for a “winner take all” final battle at Rock City in Tennessee.
At the same time the Old Gods are rushing to reinvent themselves , New Gods are rising in power: Emerging Gods you may be familiar with but may not yet identify as true Gods in the traditional sense. Gods like, Media – thriving on your screen time, Technical Boy – a fat kid born from the internet and obsessed with innovation, Mr. World – the new god of globalization and mass surveillance. These Gods were born out of the things we actually worship today: technology, fame, convenience, consumerism and control . These Gods are powered by our modern obsessions. The battle between old and new at the heart of Gaiman’s novel is a reflection of how our cultural values are predominantly shaped by the stories we choose to honor and the ones we elect to forget.
Many of us can relate to the main character, Shadow. A common man caught between these different worlds. His journey is less about picking a side and more about awakening to the truth – that belief gives life to myth—and that myth gives structure to reality. The gods aren’t just clever metaphors. They are the consequences of our collective attention.
What Gaiman shows is a truth echoed by our influencers like Joseph Campbell and Yuval Noah Harari: human beings are storytelling animals. Our laws, religions, nations, and even money are held together by shared fictions—stories that we’ve all agreed to believe. When we lose touch with those stories, we lose something essential about who we are.
So why do stories matter? Because they make us who we are. They give us heroes to aspire to, villains to resist, and meaning where life might otherwise feel random and empty. In American Gods, we’re reminded that stories are not passive—they demand engagement, reflection, and even sometimes, rebellion.
Is it that we have lost our way because the Gods of yesteryear are fizzling out?
Or… is it simply that we are struggling right now to find meaning in life while the Gods go through a changing of the guard during a major inflection point in human history?
As old gods fade and new ones rise, Gaiman leaves us with a quiet but urgent question: What new stories are we choosing to believe today—and who do those stories ultimately serve?
The Story of Us. 
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