The Sandman: Preludes and Nocturnes

Neil Gaiman’s The Sandman is widely considered one of the greatest achievements in comics, and Preludes and Nocturnes is where it begins. Collecting the first eight issues of the series, this volume tells the story of Morpheus, the Lord of Dreams, who is captured and imprisoned by an occultist for seventy years. Upon his escape, he must reclaim his tools of power and rebuild his shattered kingdom. The journey takes him from the DC Comics universe to Hell, from a diner of horrors to the realm of dreams itself.

Preludes and Nocturnes occupies an unusual position in the Sandman canon: it’s the least representative volume of the series, still finding its voice and its format, yet it contains some of the most memorable individual issues. Readers consistently note that the series improves dramatically from volume two onward, but this opening salvo already contains moments of genuine brilliance alongside its growing pains.

The Issues That Changed Everything

Issue #6, “24 Hours,” set entirely in a diner where a villain slowly destroys the patrons’ sanity, is one of the most disturbing single issues in comics history. Gaiman writes horror with a precision that makes the reader squirm, and the issue demonstrates a willingness to push the medium into territory that mainstream comics had never explored.

Issue #8, “The Sound of Her Wings,” introduces Death, Morpheus’s sister, in a story that is widely considered the moment Sandman became Sandman. Death is cheerful, kind, and wise, the opposite of every grim reaper cliché, and her conversation with Morpheus about purpose and responsibility transforms the series from a horror comic into something much larger. This single issue has converted more readers to the series than any other.

Morpheus himself is a compelling creation from the start. His haughtiness, his deep loneliness, and his struggle to reclaim not just his power but his sense of purpose create a protagonist who is both mythic and emotionally recognizable. Gaiman gives him a gravity that distinguishes him from typical comic book characters.

The concept of the Endless, a family of anthropomorphic personifications (Dream, Death, Desire, Despair, Delirium, Destiny, and Destruction), provides a mythological framework of extraordinary richness. Even in this first volume, where only Dream and Death appear prominently, the scope of Gaiman’s ambition is apparent.

Finding Its Voice Through the Noise

The early issues lean heavily on DC Comics continuity, featuring characters like John Constantine, the Martian Manhunter, and Doctor Destiny. This grounding in the DC universe was commercially necessary but creates a tonal inconsistency with the more independent, mythological direction the series would take. Readers unfamiliar with DC Comics may find these connections confusing rather than enriching.

The art in Preludes and Nocturnes is handled by multiple artists (Sam Kieth, Mike Dringenberg, and Malcolm Jones III among them), and the visual inconsistency can be jarring. The style shifts from issue to issue in ways that later volumes, with their more carefully matched art, would avoid.

The horror elements in the early issues, particularly the extreme violence of “24 Hours” and the gore in the Hell sequences, represent a rawness that some readers find off-putting. Gaiman was still calibrating the series’s tone, and these issues err toward graphic horror in ways that the more mature later volumes would not.

The quest structure (Morpheus must reclaim three objects: a pouch of sand, a helm, and a ruby) is functional but conventional for fantasy storytelling. The individual encounters are more interesting than the framework connecting them.

The Door to Something Greater

Preludes and Nocturnes is best understood as the foundation of a much larger cathedral. It establishes the rules, introduces the central character, and provides glimpses of the mythic scope that the subsequent nine volumes would fulfill. The unevenness is real, but so is the promise. Readers who push through to The Doll’s House and beyond consistently describe the complete Sandman as one of the great reading experiences of their lives.

The volume also demonstrates Gaiman’s unique ability to blend literary references, mythological traditions, and pop culture into a single coherent narrative. Even in these early issues, the breadth of his reading and the inventiveness of his synthesis set The Sandman apart from anything else being published in comics at the time.

Should You Read Preludes and Nocturnes?

If you’re curious about The Sandman, this is where you start, with the understanding that the series gets significantly better from volume two onward. The highlights, particularly “The Sound of Her Wings,” are worth the price of entry alone. If you’re looking for a polished, fully realized work, know that this volume is a beginning rather than a representative sample. The horror elements are intense, and the DC Comics connections may feel alien to non-comics readers.

The Verdict on Preludes and Nocturnes

Preludes and Nocturnes is an uneven but essential beginning to one of the greatest works in comics history. Gaiman’s voice is already distinctive, Morpheus is already compelling, and individual issues achieve a power that few comics ever reach. The reliance on DC continuity, the inconsistent art, and the raw horror of certain issues are genuine weaknesses that the series would outgrow. But as a gateway to The Sandman’s full achievement, and for the singular brilliance of its best moments, it remains a vital and rewarding read.