Re-read review: Good Omens, by Neil Gaiman and Terry Pratchett
This book has been getting renewed interest lately due to the fantastic mini-series adaptation that came out in 20191, and rightly so. Simultaneously a Cold War satire and a parody of the supernatural apocalypse movies that came out during that period, it is both hilarious and thought-provoking.
Premise:
The demon Crowley and the angel Aziraphale have been around since The Beginning2 as agents of their respective sides, but neither has ever been particularly good at the black-and-white thinking their bosses favor. They even formed The Arrangement, according to which they avoid interfering with each other's activities and even swap jobs when it is convenient. Over the millennia they have become rather fond of the earth, and each other. So when Crowley is handed a basket containing the Antichrist, his immediate thought is to call Aziraphale and try to stop the end of the world from happening. Crowley proposes that Aziraphale should also arrange to help raise they boy so that he can balance out the hellish influences Crowley is supposed to be supplying. It would be a brilliant plan...except for the fact that a slightly ditzy Satanic nun messed up the baby swap.
What I like about it:
The style is overall very similar to Pratchett's Discworld books, which I also adore, with lots of clever dialog and references, and creative descriptions of things. For instance:
It wasn't a dark and stormy night. It should have been, but that's the weather for you...But don't let the fog (with rain later, temperatures dropping to around forty-five degrees) give anyone a false sense of security. Just because it's a mild night doesn't mean that dark forces aren't abroad...Two of them lurked in the ruined graveyard...They had been lurking in the fog for an hour now, but they had been pacing themselves and could lurk for the rest of the night if necessary, with still enough sullen menace left for a final burst of lurking around dawn.
Or:
The Antichrist had been on earth for fifteen hours, and one angel and one demon had been drinking solidly for three of them...
"The point is," said Crowley, "the point is...The point I'm trying to make," he said, brightening, "Is the dolphins. That's my point."
"Kind of fish," said Aziraphale.
"Nononono," said Crowley, shaking a finger. "'S mammal. Your actual mammal...The point is. Their brains...Big brains, that's my point. Size of. Size of, size of damn big brains. And then there's the whales..."
"Kraken," said Aziraphale, staring moodily into his glass..."Great big bugger...Supposed to rise to the surface right at the end, when the sea boils."
..."There you are then," said Crowley, sitting back. "Whole sea bubbling, poor old dolphins so much seafood gumbo, no one giving a damn."
However, it also has more the magical-realism quality and slightly darker tone of Neil Gaiman's work.
The characters are really well written and very distinct. Aziraphale is seemingly quite prim, fussy, and conservative, but we see right away that for an angel he has unusual connections to earthly things. He owns a bookshop - though he hates to part with a book and has all sorts of ways to discourage customers - and loves wine, food, classical music, and collecting silver snuff boxes. And, as if having friendly drunken arguments with the literal Serpent of Knowledge wasn't tip-off enough, he has a willingness to question things and bend the rules that emerges more and more as the story goes on. Crowley dresses like a coked-out rock star, hiding his serpentine eyes behind dark glasses, and quite enjoys messing with humans by, for example, taking out the whole London area telephone network3. But he has a clear distaste for genuine evil4, and generally ends up filling out his work reports by taking credit for horrible things humans came up with on their own. Other characters include:
- Adam, the actual Antichrist, a charismatic and highly imaginative kid who heads a gang of other eleven year olds (Pepper, Brian, and Wensleydale) and acquires the world's cutest hellhound, Dog.
- Anathema Device, a witch (sorry, occultist) who is trying to find the Antichrist using her great-great-something grandmother's book, "The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch".
- Sergeant Shadwell, a crotchety, eccentric old man who is the last member of the Witchfinder Army until he recruits...
- Newton Pulsifer, a young man who would be a computer engineer if his very presence didn't make any complicated electronic device commit suicide.
- Madame Tracy, the very nice elderly hooker/dominatrix/fortune teller who lives across the hall from Shadwell and clearly has a crush on him, heaven knows why.
- The four horsepersons (or bikers) of the apocalypse: War, Famine, Pollution (who took over from Pestilence after penicillin...though that's feeling a bit premature lately!), and Death.
The friendships are terrific, as is often the case in Pratchett's work - he does a really good job depicting the dynamics between characters, especially those who have known each other a long time. Aziraphale and Crowley and Adam and the Them fall into this category, but so do the four horsepersons, who each have their own personalities and play off each other really well. During the story Adam makes friends with Anathema, and Newt gets to be oddly fond of his "Sergeant" even if he thinks he's a bit nuts. And while this tale doesn't pull "The Power of Friendship" trick literally, as some fantasy stories do...all those friendships are what save the day, in the end.
The war between heaven and hell as Cold War analogy works quite well, especially since Armageddon is set to kick off with every country firing their nukes at everyone else. The angels and demons are both very bureaucratic and focused on winning and "showing whose gang is best" regardless of the cost. It is Aziraphale and Crowley, the agents on the ground, who realize how stupid this is - though it takes Aziraphale a little longer. The book doesn't blame God per se for the situation. God's ways are "ineffable" and likened to "an obscure and complex game of poker in a pitch-dark room, for infinite stakes, with a Dealer who won't tell you the rules and who smiles all the time." This eventually works out in our heroes' favor.
The fact that the Antichrist got a totally normal human upbringing proves to be important too. Of humans, Crowley notes:
And just when you'd think they were more malignant than ever Hell could be, they could occassionally show more grace than Heaven ever dreamed of. Often the same individual was involved. It was this free-will thing, of course. It was a bugger.
In the end, the story seems to favor less the western view of good vs. evil than a sort of yin-and-yang (especially in terms of what Crowley and Aziraphale represent). Or, sticking within the same religious tradition, one might fancy they were inspired by William Blake's 'the marriage of heaven and hell5' in which angels are orderly and rational while demons represent passion and creativity; Neither works well without the other, being either too stagnant or too chaotic.
1. Seriously, I think this might be the first time in which I agree with 100% of adaptation-related changes to a book I like. It is astounding. (This isn't the official trailer, but it should be)
2. Crowley was the Serpent of Eden, Aziraphale the Guardian of its Eastern Gate. Despite their jobs, they never act like proper enemies. Crowley (or 'Crawly') admits he's a bit puzzled over the expulsion from the Garden ("They just said 'Get up there and make some trouble'....Bit of an over-reaction if you ask me"), while Aziraphale confesses that he gave away his flaming sword to the humans because they looked cold.
3. Which he justifies to his superiors by saying that this will result in millions of pissed-off people taking their frustrations out on each other, smudging each of their souls just a bit.
4. Crowley at one point turns paint guns into AK-47's but still ensures everyone has miraculous escapes because "it wouldn't be any fun otherwise". He also resurrects a dove that Aziraphale squashed in a magic show gone wrong. But DON'T say he's nice!
5. Yeah, more on the implications of THAT in a minute...
What I liked less:
There are some jokes that haven't aged well since the book was published in 1990. This is mostly in scenes set in more "exotic" locations; in part because they only get a page or so of space, the countries and characters can be stereotypical in rather cringey ways. Similarly, there are two jokes involving a slur beginning with "f" that can also mean "bundle of wood". Said jokes are almost certainly meant to be poking fun at homophobic Americans, not gay people - but still. I don't think any of these jokes were meant maliciously, though, based on the humanist world views that are clearly evident across the authors' bodies of work and the fact that the mini-series was under the control of Gaiman and it cut ALL of that.
Although there are least two romance subplots, I decided not to tag this as such. The pairing with the best chemistry isn't actually confirmed to be a couple (more with *spoilers* below in "final thoughts"), while the only 100% confirmed relationship - between Newt and Anathema - is the weakest. They literally have only known each other for a day. I suspect Pratchett and Gaiman recognized this issue, as there are jokes about Anathema and Newt's relationship being prophecy-driven, as if Agnes Nutter is shoving them together from beyond the grave and going: "Now kiss!" Shadwell and Madame Tracy had a pre-existing friendship of sorts, but that relationship isn't technically confirmed either. I can't say this distracted from my enjoyment of reading the book - romance isn't really the point, and all the pairings involve highly entertaining banter - but it does bug me a little when I sit down and think about it.
Recommendation:
Absolutely recommended, those caveats aside, especially if you've enjoyed either Pratchett or Gaiman's other work. Alternately, you can watch the show, which has all the core elements with some of the rough bits trimmed and some more diversity added, but misses out on some of the wordplay and snarky asides. Or why not try both?
Final thoughts: Is the central story here a love story?
When I watched the mini-series, it was apparent from episode 1 that this was being played as a love story between Crowley and Aziraphale. The casting is perfect, and David Tennant and Michael Sheen have incredible chemistry. By the end, I was thinking: "I didn't know I needed this interpretation, but I absolutely did. Wait - Was this in the book and I somehow missed it despite reading it four or five times?"
So I read the book again, and while their relationship is definitely not explicitly shown to be a romantic one, there are enough hints(?) there to make that reading 100% consistent. Namely:
1. Crowley calls Aziraphale "Angel", and Aziraphale calls him "My dear" or "dear boy", which both have a plausible-deniability-pet-name vibe.
2. Largely due to his mannerisms- and partly because he lives in Soho - humans usually assume Aziraphale is "gayer than a tree full of monkeys on nitrous oxide". The book says that this is inaccurate because "angels are sexless unless they really make an effort."
Which, you might notice, rules out exactly nothing.
3. While no one makes that assumption out loud about Crowley, his general aesthetic with the saunter, the pointy snakeskin boots, and the tendency to say things like "ciao" is a bit late-80s Eurotrash. This in turn led some readers to pose the question illustrated in this fan video (made before the show came out, mind you): "Gay or European?"6
4. Besides misprinted bibles and books of prophecy, Aziraphale is noted to have a large collection of Oscar Wilde first editions. Crowley's Bentley turns all tapes left in it into "Best of Queen" albums. He was also a friend of Leonardo DaVinci and has the original Mona Lisa sketch hanging in his flat.
5. Aziraphale and Crowley claim to only have their Arrangement for work reasons, but that doesn't seem true. They start the Armageddon conversation in a park frequented by other secret agents - so far so good - but then immediately go have lunch at a fancy restaurant and eventually end up getting drunk back at Aziraphale's place. They also ran into each other in Paris during the Reign of Terror...and decided to go eat crepes together.
6. Trying to reference heaven's capacity for violence, Aziraphale asks Crowley if he'd ever been to Sodom and Gomorrah. The demon perks up and reminisces about a little place that served great fermented date and lemongrass cocktails. Aziraphale replies tartly: "I meant afterward."
7. Crowley and Aziraphale give Anathema a lift after literally running into her. She is a bit dazed and suspicious, although Aziraphale fixed any broken bones.
Aziraphale bowed again. "So glad to have been of assistance," he said...
"Can we get on?" said Crowley. "Good night, miss. Get in, angel."
Ah. Well, that explained it. She had been perfectly safe after all.
Now, Anathema is a witch, so she did probably realize Aziraphale was a literal angel. However, that nickname plus the old-married-couple bickering they'd been doing in the car might suggest a second reason she was perfectly safe too.
8. When Shadwell witnesses Aziraphale calling heaven and assumes it is some demonic ritual he shouts: "I ken what ye be about, comin' up here and seducin' wimmen to do yer evil will!" Aziraphale replies: "I think perhaps you've got the wrong shop."
This is a reference to the fact that Soho in the '80s was chock full of porn shops. But also, given point #2, this is VERY clearly the wrong shop for that sort of thing.
9. Crowley finds the bookshop on fire and immediately runs in to try and rescue Aziraphale. The demon is shown to be fire-resistant, but still - that's sweet.
10. Shadwell refers to Aziraphale (who lost his own body and is riding around in Madame Tracy's) as a southern pansy, and Aziraphale absolutely owns it: "Not just A southern pansy, Sergeant Shadwell, THE Southern Pansy!"
11. On hearing Aziraphale's voice coming out of Madame Tracy's mouth, Crowley's response is merely: "Is that you? Nice dress."
Not as teasing or sarcasm, mind you - just a vaguely pleasant remark before they get on with the plot.
12. The end of their last scene goes like this:
"Let me tempt you to some lunch," [Crowley] hissed.
They went to the Ritz again, where a table was mysteriously vacant. And...while they were eating, for the first time ever, a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. No one heard it over the noise of the traffic, but it was there, right enough.
I didn't know it until I heard the show soundtrack, but that is a reference to a love song (here paired with scenes from the show).
Now, look - Terry Pratchett was a master of layered cultural references and the subtle joke, which makes me think that most of that has to be intentional. If he wanted a thematically appropriate song for Crowley's car to play, "Sympathy for the devil" is actually a better fit than "Bohemian Rhapsody". If he wanted to note that Aziraphale likes classic literature and perhaps comedies of manners in particular, he could have picked Jane Austen. He could have given Crowley a Picasso painting. But he and Gaiman didn't - they specifically linked them to three artists famous for being gay or bisexual. So I think Pratchett and Gaiman must have had the idea of Aziraphale and Crowley being a couple bouncing around in their heads, if only as a "wouldn't it be fun if...", but figured they had to be subtle about it because they were writing this book in 1989.
The fact that there are a ton of parallels between Aziraphale and Crowley's relationship and that of Shadwell and Madame Tracy only reinforces this sense. Both the angel and the witchfinder work for organizations with skewed/overly strict definitions of good and evil, to which a demon or an occultist sex worker, respectively, represent the opposition. Crowley and Madame Tracy like their opposites, however, even when they are sometimes rude, and take the initiative in keeping the relationship going, usually through offers of food. Shadwell and Aziraphale both clearly enjoy this attention, though they can't admit it, and don't try too hard to discourage it, eventually realizing they were wrong in their dogmatism. Both pairs start working together, and acting protective of one another. And both stories end with the pair sharing a meal7. No one says you aren't supposed to read Shadwell and Madame Tracy as being a couple by the end, even though they don't kiss or say "I love you" out loud. Madame Tracy does suggest they get a cottage together, but we don't see Shadwell actually say "yes". And, while it can't be confirmed because Pratchett has sadly passed away, Gaiman said on Twitter that he and Sir Terry tossed around the idea of having Aziraphale and Crowley move into a cottage in the South Downs, which would have completed the parallel8.
Now, some people take issue with the fact that despite the actors gazing lovingly at each other the whole way through, the show didn't go all in and actually confirm what sort of relationship this is. I get why that can feel like just another case of queer-baiting, but I think the writers made the right call here. By the time the show came out, there had been 30 years of fans' interpretations ranging from "platonic life partners" to "asexual romance" to full-on "ineffable husbands". The writers already dialed it up a good bit. Other characters don't just assume Aziraphale is gay, they assume he and Crowley are a couple. There are added scenes from their 6000 year history where they are clearly flirting with each other. And then there are the scenes where Crowley panics about their prospects of stopping the end of the world and tries to get Aziraphale to run away with him; where Crowley offers to let Aziraphale stay at his place because the bookshop burned down, and Aziraphale appears to agree; and where they wear each other's bodies to survive the punishments heaven and hell have planned for them9. This would seem to narrow it down to the asexual romance or "gay but couldn't actually be in a relationship while on opposite sides" interpretations10. To specifically confirm one head-cannon further than that, though, would be to stomp on the others, which would be a particularly mean thing to do to the ace fans, who get almost zero representation in media.
As far as the book relationship goes, the only conclusion I can draw is: Well, they're almost certainly not straight. Even if they aren't into each other in that way, they don't show any interest in female-presenting individuals of any species (if "species" is the right word for non-biological entities)11. As Gaiman has pointed out, sex and gender are optional for angels and demons, so while yes, they love each other, maybe none of our human categories exactly fit. But they are clearly the most important person in each others' lives, and the way they play off each other is lovely and just so much fun.
6. The song, from the musical version of "Legally Blonde" is itself kind of a dated joke, but I find it hilarious here because A) that is EXACTLY what the Good Omens fans have apparently been arguing about for the past three decades and B) a lot of the lyrics fit weirdly well. So, yeah, not gonna lie; When it got to the bit that goes: "Sorry, I misunderstand. You say 'boyfriend', I thought you say 'best friend'. Carlos is my BEST friend" and the animated Aziraphale burst in with: "You BASTARD! You lying bastard!" I literally cackled.
7. With lunch at the Ritz being WAY more romantic than "a nice bit of liver" and a glass of beer. But Madame Tracy is on a budget, so perhaps it isn't a fair comparison.
8. I'm glad they didn't in either book or show, though. A country cottage seems like kind of a dumb retirement idea for a pair of immortal beings who A) clearly enjoy fine dining and theatre and other citified pursuits - Crowley in particular would probably be climbing the walls within months - and B) would appear to be a gay couple. Giving up Soho and Mayfair for the conservative countryside? Yeah, that'd be fun. Personally, I like to imagine that Crowley moves into Aziraphale's miraculously restored bookshop at some point. It is a cozier place than his flat, which isn't so much a home as the sort of flat the "cool" human he's pretending to be would have. Maybe he could put his plants on the roof.
9. Those last two actually fix small plot holes in the book. First: They drive back to London together after the Apocawhoops, but Crowley probably wouldn't have tried to drop Aziraphale off at a shop they don't think is there. So where did he go? And second: Right before they head off to the Ritz, they sound pretty confident that they are safe, at least for now. Why? Crowley's colleagues definitely wanted to kill him yesterday, or at least toss him in the deepest pit, and Aziraphale's can't have been happy about him jumping back out of heaven to side with a demon - so what changed? It is nice when such questions not only get answered, but answered in such a heartwarming, satisfying way.
10. Because, really, being apparently the same gender is the least of their problems. Romeo and Juliet have nothing on these two.
11. I still didn't think like I can tag this as "LGBT+ main character", considering the text is so subtle you might have to read it multiple times to catch all the implications. But at least the authors avoided that awkward "no homo" move of shoving in a female love interest at the end who has had nothing to do with the story!
For those who want more, there is a vibrant Good Omens fanfiction ecosystem. The stories I've read on Archive of Our Own are on average pretty decent and some are incredible. You can tell how much love people have for these characters and the effort they make to be true to them. Most writers also are respectful of readers - giving any content warnings up front, being careful with pronoun usage, etc. - and, for the smutty stories, way more careful with consent than one typically expects with this sort of thing. I'd never gotten into fanfics before, but I was so inspired I have written some myself now. When you've got characters you can stick into any period of human history and as far in the future as you like, with wings, optional genders, the ability to do miracles, equally magical antagonists, and (in Crowley's case) shapeshifting abilities, the possibilities are endless. Interestingly, those featuring Warlock Dowling, the not-actually-antichrist that Crowley and Aziraphale help raise, never seem to depict him as the straight cis "male boy son" his father the ambassador was expecting. Instead, these stories clearly function as "what if I had had magical immortal queer godparents to come out to?" wish fulfillment. Similarly, there's a fair amount of Aziraphale being the guardian angel of Soho's gay and trans community. The only ones I don't really understand are the human alternate universe ones, because getting rid of the angel/demon thing and the end of the world removes most of the interesting sources of tension.
