In the old days, you could rightfully look to the storytellers—who, after all, tell the tales of the gods and know their lore—to know as much about the gods as anyone.
These days, I'm afraid, not so much.
As an entertaining read, I like American Gods. (The TV movie struck me as a waste of time, though. One story to go, please, hold the special effects.) But Neil Gaiman is a storyteller, not a theologian, and (as anyone who has read his twee retelling of the Norse myths can readily attest) an outsider looking in.
So—I will admit—it bugs me when I hear pagans citing Gaiman as if what he says about the gods has any sort of authority whatsoever.
(America hard on gods? Ha. America is a land of many gods.)
I can understand why theology-deprived modern pagans might do so, of course; the new paganisms, alas, have yet to generate much in the way of theology, or the conceptual framework that theology provides. Mostly we're too busy just keeping the lights on and the Wheel turning to have much time for deep thinking. But if we're looking for theology, a novel by a cowan using the Lore for his or her own purposes is probably not the best place to find it.
Gaiman's understanding of the gods is, for the most part, of no great depth, but there are two moments in American Gods when he strikes pure gold.
Shadow is talking with Mr. Wednesday, a calque for Odin.
Shadow: How did you lose your eye?
Wednesday: I didn't lose it. I know exactly where it is.
