The art is varied and enjoyable - P. Craig Russell is reliable as an artist and a visual storyteller. The other artwork complements and contrasts with his delicate style. Some is stark, almost geometric; use of color ranges from subtle to shattering.

It's good, varied material. I like the stories, I like the art, and that's enough for me. I'm relatively new to the Sandman, but I'll keep coming back for more.

The notion of the work is an excellent one. Nine stories, each completed by different artists and each portraying a historical event with a little Sandman twist.

However, the execution of the work leaves a little to be desired. For the most part, the stories are anti-climatic, slow and irrelevent. Perhaps the only pieces that can stand alone are the whimisical 'The Hunt' and the tale of lost love, 'Orpheus'. Elsewhere, there is little of Gaiman's usual originality to be found.

'Fables and Reflections' is clearly not a great starting point for delving into The Sandman. I would, however, recommend 'Seasons of Mist', 'Brief lives' and 'The Kindly ones.'

Another thing that separates Fables from other Sandman volumes is that it is a hodgepodge. These stories are from different points in the series' development and are collected here only because there is no other place for them. Due to this, Fables and Reflections is hit-or-miss. It contains some of Sandman's best moments and some of its worst.

The collection starts off on a high note "Three Septembers and a January." The story shows the role of Sandman's family in the life of Joshua Norton, a San Francisco man who declared himself emporer of the United States in 1859. The story features terribly underdeveloped versions of Sandman's family (Despair talks like some Spiderman villain) but Gaiman's treatment of Norton (a real life person) is funny, heartfelt and wholly entertaining.

In the next story, "Thermidor," Sandman hires Johanna Constantine, an ancestor of John Constantine of the DC series Hellblazer, for a rescue mission during Revolution-era France. Sandman's occasional overlapping into other DC series is usually awkward and this is no exception.

After that is "The Hunt," in which an old man annoys his teenage granddaughter (and readers) with a banal fairy tale about a savage who finds one of Sandman's lost books.

Next is "August," in which Sandman instructs the Roman emperor, Caesar Augustus, to spend a day disguised as a beggar. This story does not have the depth Gaiman obviously intended for it.

The duds keep coming with "Soft Places," in which explorer Marco Polo finds a desert oasis where space, time and reality loose their meanings. The tale crumples into postmodern mush.

Fables picks up again with "Song of Orpheus," which positions the Sandman mythos in ancient Greece for a haunting retelling of the myth of Orpheus.

Fables' sole present day story, "Parliament of Rooks," is another winner. The tale sheds light of three denizens of Sandman's realm: the sadistic Cain, the stuttering Abel and the reclusive Eve, all of whom may or may not be the actual Biblical figures (as the story says, "the mystery endures, not the explanation"). Each character in the dream realm is half deeply symbolic specter and half twisted Disney character. In this story, Gaiman maximizes both their poignancy and their comedic value.

The last story is "Ramadan," in which a king of ancient Baghdad becomes bored with riches, sex and opulence and considers making a deal with Sandman. This issue is justly considered one of the series' best. Gaiman's ability to assimilate the story-telling traditions of other cultures is always amazing and the illustrator's cities and castles are gorgeous. Add in lush computerized coloring and you have an extraordinary comic book.

Because of its inconsistency, Fables and Reflections is a low point in the Sandman library (most volumes are wholly excellent). Yet some of these tales represent Sandman at its best so, for true aficionados, Fables and Reflections is a reluctant must.

While the book's format accomodates Gaiman's strong points as a storyteller, there are some drawbacks, as well. At times, Gaiman appears unwilling to map-out, even at some basic level, who the characters are and their motivations. A case in point occurs in "Thermidor," where the protagonist, a Lady Constantine, appears to have had a past relationship with Morpheus, but we're never blessed (at least in this book) with an explanation as to the depth or relevance of this connection. One wonders, therefore, whether there was any real reason to bring it up. This phenomenon re-occurs, to a lesser extent, in "The Hunt," where the central character, who is apparently a nice guy, scares the pants off of a palm-reader, who appears to think she read for Satan himself. The meaning of this scene is never expanded upon, and, consequently I felt somewhat confused throughout the rest of the story. Although these are admittedly trivial points which did little to detract from my enjoyment of the book, they point to the fact that the book's format makes it incumbent upon Gaiman to create a coherent world that we really care about; a task that felt a little lacking, at times.

With the exception of the disastrous imagery provided by the introductory story (Morpheus, for example, looks like a Gothic hillbilly, if such a blend is capable of existing), the art was of consistent high quality. I particularly enjoyed the imagery, inking, and lettering styles employed in "Ramadan" to accompany the 1001 nights-influenced story.

All in all, Gaiman earns high marks for his flair and creativity. It is a testament to Gaiman's greatness that, six books into the series, he continues to churn out a product without equal in the graphic novel world.