“Troll-Bridge” (1993)

I read the first graphic novel in Neil Gaiman’s Sandman series many years ago and always meant to get back to it. But that was before he got into his recent troubles for alleged (by five different women) sexual assault or at least misconduct. I don’t otherwise know his work well and now I feel like there’s an excuse to skip it. He always seemed to lean into fantasy more than I like anyway. The allegations make me sad in a general way and contemptuous in another—just another overprivileged guy who can’t control himself. Like Louis C.K., he is now already attempting a comeback, denying the worst charges and hoping fans can forgive and forget. We’ll see how that goes. It doesn’t seem to be working for Louis C.K. In the better days of the ‘90s, “Troll-Bridge” earned a nomination for a 1994 World Fantasy Award for short fiction. In 2016 it was adapted into a graphic novel by Colleen Doran. Gaiman’s story was published originally in Snow White, Blood Red, a thematic 1993 anthology devoted to the arguably suspect subgenre of fairy tale retellings (edited, like the Year’s Best anthology where I read this story, by Ellen Datlow and Terri Windling). I like the idea of these fairy tale retellings—see especially Angela Carter’s work—but the execution is too often uninspired and mechanical (part of the reason I skip themed anthologies as a general rule). Gaiman’s exercise here riffs on “The Three Billy Goats Gruff,” which a 2010 Norwegian found-footage faux doc, Trollhunter, is altogether better on, with more humor and better special effects. Maybe that’s because this particular fairy tale has roots in Norwegian folklore. Gaiman is more going for something elegiac, with a self-pitying protagonist and a decaying urban setting, London in the late 20th century. Various basic elements such as the bridge itself confused me. The story hangs together largely because the fairy tale does. The bones of it are sticking through the fabric of “Troll-Bridge,” although not necessarily in the best ways. It felt too serious about itself for me. The troll under the bridge threatens to “eat” the life of our first-person narrator. It’s a confusing threat, but the end clarifies the meaning as something like the story’s designated twist. You’ll have to read it to discover it for yourself and I hope you have a better time than I did.

The Year's Best Fantasy and Horror Seventh Annual Collection, ed. Ellen Datlow & Terri Windling
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