Chaos, Entropy, and Neil Gaiman: A Therapist’s Take on Norse Mythology

It is rare that I discuss fiction in a professional capacity. My focus is usually squarely on clinical therapy and the mechanics of healing. However, as a clinician who leans toward depth psychology, I find that mythology is inextricably linked to clinical work. The way we view the world, the narratives we construct about our lives, and the way we make meaning out of chaos are all deeply mythological processes.

During a recent break from work, I finally had the time to dive into a stack of books I’d been meaning to read. First on the list was Neil Gaiman’s Norse Mythology.

The Master of Modern Myth

If you aren’t familiar with Neil Gaiman, he is a novelist and comic book writer famous for works like The Sandman and American Gods. His career has largely been defined by fantasy—not necessarily the “high fantasy” of The Lord of the Rings, but rather “deep mythology.” His work consistently explores the lenses through which we make sense of the universe, often taking our personal mythological beliefs to their ultimate conclusions to show us the implications of what we believe.

In Norse Mythology, Gaiman isn’t trying to write a dry, didactic academic text. Instead, he provides a narrative retelling of the stories found in the Prose Edda and other primary sources. He creates a bridge for the modern reader, offering context and readability that the ancient sources sometimes lack.

The Texture of the Unknown

One of the most compelling aspects of Norse mythology, which Gaiman captures beautifully, is the presence of “blanks.” In these stories, you can feel the texture of the world, but you don’t always understand the rules.

This stands in stark contrast to Greek mythology. In the Greek pantheon, the hierarchy is clear: you have the big gods, the small gods beneath them, and they all behave with very human motivations. The Greeks famously “made their men gods and their gods men.” The Greek gods are petty, jealous, and silly, while their heroes (like Achilles) are described with god-like reverence. You know the rules of the game in Greek mythology.

Norse mythology offers no such clarity. It is filled with ambiguity and uncomfortable contradictions.

Loki: The God of Entropy

There is no better example of this ambiguity than Loki.

Loki occupies a confusing space in the Norse pantheon. He is counted among the Aesir (the gods), yet he is a frost giant—the sworn enemy of the gods. He is raised by them and allowed to live among them, yet he is constantly plotting against them. Sometimes his tricks are harmless pranks; other times, he kills the gods or their children.

This begs the question: Why is he there? Why do the gods tolerate a being that is essentially their enemy?

If you look at historical Norse sites, you will find towns, mountains, and fjords named after Odin, Thor, and Baldur. But you will find almost nothing named after Loki. In the common mind of the Norse people, he was not a “good” thing to be celebrated.

From a psychological perspective, Loki represents a force of nature. He is inevitability, entropy, and chaos. He represents the variables in life that we cannot get rid of, the decay and disorder that we hate but must learn to live with. He is the shadow in the room that the gods cannot expel because he is a fundamental part of reality.

The Verdict

Gaiman does an excellent job of letting this ambiguity breathe. He doesn’t try to force a canon or a strict set of rules where none exist, which honors the source material.

Initially, I worried this might be a “publisher book”—a project forced on a famous author to sell copies by simply rewriting old myths. It is not. It is clear Gaiman spent years with these stories. It is a short, accessible read, but one that carries the weight of genuine passion.

For anyone interested in the lenses through which humans have historically viewed the chaos of the universe, I highly recommend it.