Until recently, “The Sandman”—Neil Gaiman’s magnum opus about the eternal being who oversees the universe of dreaming—has remained an impossible quest.
“For All Mankind” invents a Soviet victory in the space race and imagines a tempting counterfactual: What if Americans’ faith in government was never shattered?
My heart is not large enough, my consciousness is not spacious enough for all the spot-on characters, the hectic energies, the ripping stories. I am not skillful, I think, at TV.