Common wisdom (including that of the author itself) is that issue #8 of Sandman, the first Death story, is when Neil Gaiman first “found his voice” on the series. That’s certainly true to a certain extent, and of particular elements of the book – but to my mind, in the middle of the subsequent storyline (one which, I still feel upon re-reading, shows the series stuttering a little bit in firmly establishing itself), we’re given an issue that rather more successfully defines and exemplifies the best characteristics of what still remains perhaps the finest long-form achievement in the history of the medium – issue #13, “Men of Good Fortune”.

A standalone done-in-one tale, its placing as a “break” in the middle of The Doll’s House seems odd – but it almost feels like the book needs it, because it does such an important job of establishing that it lives in a much, much wider world than the set of characters and places we’ve so far been following. Elements that wouldn’t become important until much later – talk of a “delegation from Faerie”, the first appearance of Johanna Constantine, further hints at Death’s character, and the seeds of William Shakespeare’s relevance – are planted here, as if Gaiman is saying “Right. This thing’s going to run and run. And here’s a few examples of how I’m going to play with it.”

It’s just so bloody clever, too. Without actually looking it up, I’m not sure how loosely Gaiman plays with time in order to conveniently have centennial encounters in years ending in ’89 allow for cameo appearances by Geoffrey Chaucer and a chummy Shakespeare and Marlowe, but I’d bet it’s not by very much. Conveniently catching the Bard prior to his fame and his friend at the height of his, Gaiman is able to draw parallels (explicitly referenced in the dialogue) with the latter’s Doctor Faustus in the Shakespeare/Morpheus deal that we first see hinted at here, while at the same time leading us to wonder slightly on the nature of the unwitting “arrangement” between Death and Hob. The tone and atmosphere of each successive decade (not to mention the common threads of general conversation between them), meanwhile, just feel so spot on – this is the furthest from lazy writing that you can imagine, with so much care and attention devoted to the setting as well as dialogue that is largely a joy from start to finish (“Now the chap next to him with the broken leg, bent as a pewter ducat – he’s a good playwright.”)

Part of that latter point, of course, is down to the introduction of Hob Gadling – unashamedly my favourite of the series’ stellar cast of characters, and here he demonstrates exactly why. Not without his flaws (most notably the manner in which he chooses to make his eighteenth-century fortune, something for which the series rightly never allows him to make full restitution), he’s nevertheless a brilliant and deeply human pair of eyes through which to view the series, and its lead character. He’s also, I’d argue, one of the first truly unique voices that Gaiman is able to bring out – after all, as the only person (with the possible exception of Matthew) that Dream can truly call “friend”, he needs to be a strong character, and he is. And even now, even having read it countless times, the final page is still just utterly lovely.

Of course, anyone reading Sandman for the first time nowadays will always come at it from the angle of knowing what a monumental series it’s supposed to be, and so are more likely to have the preconception that it’ll turn into something magnificent. And I can’t even claim to have read this story in sequence when I did first embark on the series – The Doll’s House was missing from the borrowed set of trades I read. Nevertheless, it’s clear looking back that #13 is an important milestone in the series’ history, the second big “moment” (after #8) to hint that this was going to be something special – and arguably (despite Hob’s relatively unimportant role in actual events) the first true indication of what the whole thing was all about. It absolutely nails it, in other words, and it’s fair to say that comics are very rarely as good as this one.

Every Wednesday we take turns to delve into our trusty longboxes, pluck out a dusty back issue at random, and give you our thoughts. We’ll also try and place it in the context of the time it was originally published.

Ah, The Dreaming. Road to hell, good intentions, and all that. Having started out as a way to allow an idiosyncratic variety of creators to play in the sandbox of Neil Gaiman’s Sandman universe, the first year or so followed the template of distinct and individual stories (sometimes single-issue, sometimes spread over a few) that bounced around various supporting characters, minor and major, with – as you’d expect – varying degrees of quality. Unfortunately, neither critical nor sales success was forthcoming, and so Vertigo editorial took the decision to change the focus to an ongoing, plot-driven series centred around a core group of characters (Cain, Abel, Lucien and so on). This mightn’t have been a bad decision in and of itself, but the choice of Caitlin R. Kiernan as one of the two writers (and, later, the sole writer) to take the series forward was fatal, as one of the worst writers in comic book history (yes, even worse than Chuck Austen – and it’s telling that the industry has barely been near her since) completely ran it into the ground in a self-indulgent, fan fiction-esque fireball.

Before all of that, however, we were at least treated to a few issues by the series’ other main writer, Peter Hogan. Hogan had already turned in two of the best stories of the “anthology” era (four-part fairy story “The Lost Boy”, and the superb single issue “Ice”), and would also create the Sandman Presents : Love Street miniseries and the later-cancelled Marquee Moon. He showed an uncanny knack for the characterisation of numerous members of Gaiman’s expansive supporting cast, and for my money, he’s also the best potential Hellblazer writer never to have been given a shout at it.

Anyway, amid the dross that Kiernan’s story arcs were gradually plunging the title into, there was one final ray of light in early ’99 in the shape of “London Pride”, a standalone issue with artist Steve Parkhouse that represents possibly the finest non-Gaiman moment in the Sandman franchise. Set during the Blitz, it tells the story – mentioned briefly in Sandman – of the death of Hob Gadling’s wife Peg. In a neat twist – and I’m not sure if this was intended by Gaiman and I was just too stupid to notice it in the original – it turns out that she’s the same girl (“Peg” being a shortened form of her name “Margaret”) that Hob met in his seafaring days and with whom he encountered the sea serpent, as relayed back in the Sandman : Worlds’ End. Gadling was, in my opinion, the best character to come out of Sandman, and the issue is a welcome expansion of his largely-untapped backstory. We’re also treated to not only a cameo by Sandman favourite Mad Hettie, but an addition to the ranks of the Constantine clan, in the shape of vile chancer Jack.

It’s a fairly simple little story in itself, but it’s moving and funny in turns, and the atmosphere – helped by some sterling work from Parkhouse – is well-judged. The style may not be to everyone’s taste, but that’s really the point of what The Dreaming was supposed to do – span the range of tastes of the wide variety of readers drawn into Gaiman’s universe. Certainly, “London Pride” stands out as exactly the sort of character exploration that was sacrificed all-too-quickly in favour of dicking about with Kiernan’s murderous transsexual Mary Sue character Echo. And it really raises the question of why Hogan’s career in American comics stalled so markedly after he left the title. But if you’re any sort of Sandman fan, I can heartily recommend it as a cracking little read.