The Monarch of the Glen
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The Monarch of the Glen is set in the universe of American Gods.
Shadow finds himself in Scotland, hired to bodyguard a party against gatecrashers, by a little doctor who calls him a monster and tells him, “I am something of a monster myself. Like calls to like. We are all monsters, are we not? Glorious monsters, shambling through the swamps of unreason . . . “
‘The Monarch of the Glen’ is billed as “an American Gods novella”.
For my money it’s better conceptualised as an extended epilogue to ‘American Gods’... As in its parent novel, ‘The Monarch of the Glen’ features gods and monsters, myths and legends, all in mundane guises.
right. There was too much that didn’t add up. Why hire a drifter to do security, while bringing in real security guards? It made no sense, no more than Smith introducing him to Mr. Alice, after two dozen other people had treated Shadow as no more human than a decorative ornament. There was a low stone wall in front of the house. Behind the house, a hill that was almost a small mountain, in front of it a gentle slope down to the loch. Off to the side was the track by which he had arrived that
pain in the howling, and anguish, and it echoed across the hills above the drumbeats, a wail of pain and loss and hate. The figure that stumbled through the doorway to the courtyard was clutching its head, covering its ears, as if to stop the pounding of the drumbeats. The firelight caught it. It was huge, now: bigger than Shadow, and naked. It was perfectly hairless, and dripping wet. It lowered its hands from its ears, and it stared around, its face twisted into a mad grimace. “Stop it!” it
backpack for him, a box of new clothes, even new boots. He asked no questions. There was a large envelope on top of the pile of clothes. Shadow ripped it open. It contained his passport, slightly scorched, his wallet, and money: several bundles of new fifty-pound notes, wrapped in rubber bands. My God, how the money rolls in, he thought, without pleasure, and tried, without success, to remember where he had heard that song before. He took a long bath, to soak away the pain. And then he slept.
me.” They walked out into the street. “So, is this a village or a small town?” asked Shadow. “It’s a fucking graveyard,” she said. “Up this way. Come on.” They walked up a narrow road. The moon was huge and a yellowish brown. Shadow could hear the sea, although he could not yet see it. “You’re Jennie?” he said. “That’s right. And you?” “Shadow.” “Is that your real name?” “It’s what they call me.” “Come on then, Shadow,” she said. At the top of the hill, they stopped. They were on the edge
were coming home, and it was not a good feeling. There were several other four-wheel-drive vehicles parked on the gravel. “The keys to the cars are hanging in the pantry, in case you need to take one out. I’ll show you as we go past.” Through a large wooden door, and now they were in a central courtyard, partly paved. There was a small fountain in the middle of the courtyard, and a lot of grass, a ragged green, viperous swath bounded by gray flagstones. “This is where the Saturday-night action