by Neil Gaiman, HarperCollins, 2001, 583 pages

Be careful what you worship. When you’ve got your nose buried in your laptop or iPhone or Kindle, it might be worth asking yourself: Do I control these devices or do they control me? That question, in a way, is at the core of Neil Gaiman’s modern fiction classic, “American Gods,” which turns 10 this year.

The novel follows a large, taciturn man named Shadow, who is released early from prison only to discover that his wife and his best friend both are dead. To make the loss even more painful, it turns out the two perished in a car crash while his wife was performing oral sex on his good buddy.

Soon after leaving prison, Shadow meets a mysterious man named Wednesday, who somehow knows intimate details of Shadow’s life and abruptly offers him a job as his personal bodyguard and assistant. Numb with the realization that he is now alone and aimless, Shadow reluctantly accepts the offer.

In the days and weeks that follow, Shadow meets an array of Wednesday’s associates, a motley batch of magical, fantastical characters. Wednesday, we discover, is an incarnation of the Norse god Odin, and his associates are other old-school deities from various religions and creeds throughout history. These gods derive their power from the faith, worship and sacrifice of their human followers. 

But, as several characters report, “America is a bad place for Gods.” As the general populace loses faith in the immortals of old, their power gradually ebbs. New gods have emerged to replace them, based around the modern technological innovations and cultural trends Americans have come to adore. There’s a god of the Internet, for example, an arrogant young immortal who reeks of burning wires.

The new gods plan to wipe out their ancestors, and Wednesday is rallying his allies to face them in an epic battle. Shadow’s precise role in this divine showdown remains unclear until near the end. But, between regular visits from his late wife, journeys to the world’s “backstage” realm, and frequent run-ins with strange mythological figures, he learns much about the true nature of existence. 

The book is filled with delightfully surreal and often horrific imagery (in one chapter, a deity posing as a prostitute literally consumes a man with her vagina). There are numerous side stories about the rise and fall of various gods, with echoes into important periods in American and world history.

But, even more significantly, the novel provides a deft commentary on what modern-day Americans worship, and how we unwittingly make daily sacrifices—of time, money, energy, attention, etc.—to these non-living, pop-culture entities. It’s interesting to consider, through Gaiman’s imaginative vision, what new gods have emerged in the decade since this novel was first published. Social media, for instance, has evolved into an almighty god that could rival the All-Father in his prime.

Neil Gaiman has become an icon for his work not only as a novelist but also as an author of comic books, graphic novels and films. His DC Comics series “The Sandman” ran for 75 issues, and his novel “Coraline” was adapted into a 2009 film. But “American Gods” is arguably his crowning work, winning both the Hugo and Nebula awards.

Gaiman is currently traveling the country in support of the 10th anniversary edition of “American Gods,” and the tour will bring him to The Music Hall in Portsmouth for a sold-out event on Wednesday, June 22. 

Meanwhile, rumor has it that HBO is developing “American Gods” into a six-season television series, with Hollywood heavyweight Tom Hanks at the helm. And rumor has it Gaiman has announced he’s at work on a sequel to flesh out the story.

The anniversary tour and TV series are testaments to the novel’s enduring place in American literature. If Gaiman, himself, is a god, he’s feeding heartily on the worship of loyal fans across the country.