Neil Gaiman has always drawn from the deep well of Scandinavian legend, evident in his first novel American Gods (coming to a small screen near you this year), so it is fitting that the writer finally tackles his source material head-on. Like Gaiman’s own creations, the Norse gods are a far-from-perfect bunch, as likely to lean towards petty jealousies as noble pursuits, and thus perfect for Gaiman’s brand of storytelling: even the notoriously devious Loki has his good points here.

In keeping with the tradition of mythical storytelling, the author doesn’t embellish these ancient tales, instead sticking to a straight recounting of events. This initially seems a little dry, but Gaiman’s sly humour can’t help but ooze out between the nouns, particularly when describing Thor’s unwillingness to don women’s clothes in order to retrieve his hammer, Mjollnir, from Thrym, lord of the ogres. These are truly fantastical tales, told with vim and vigour by a writer obviously in love with the original myths.