The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Right up front I should admit, I'd never heard of Neil Gaiman before I read an enthusiastic newspaper review about this book and decided to preorder it a few days ago. Last night, it was wirelessly delivered to my Kindle and this morning, I picked it up and started reading. Almost instantly, I was so absorbed and lost in the storytelling experience that I didn't do anything else until I finished it a few hours later. It's a short book; it's enchanting; it's very well written...definitely top-quality fantasy literature. I'm not a fan of fantasy literature, but this book swept me away into such a delightful and fascinating series of incredible adventures--or should I say misadventures--that I could not pull myself away. The author is correct to warn that this is not a fable for children...the reality is far too stark and dark, and there are definitely some adult themes. "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" is a tale about a lonely bookish seven-year old whose life takes a terrifying turn into a dark and creepy reality. The child is never named, but in recent interviews, the author admits that this child is very much like he was at that age. The child lives in the lovely English countryside of Sussex--the same environment where the author grew up. And like Gaiman, the child is wise, responsible, and moral beyond his years. The parents are blithely confident that nothing bad could happen to their brilliant bookish son in such a bucolic setting. But of course, bad things can, and do happen, especially to the pure and innocent... The parents have no idea that the Hempstocks--an eleven-year-old girl, her mother, and grandmother--who live by a pond at the end of the lane, are really a group of immortals who play at being human. Our seven-year-old child makes friends with the girl, Lettie Hempstock, and she introduces him to the pond, which is really an ocean. Eventually, our narrator and Lettie take a trip into a higher plain of reality that is entered somehow through the property owned by the Hempstocks, and so begins a series of remarkable misadventures with unforeseen consequences. This novel is a heroic tale about the age-old battle between childhood innocence and mythic forces. The book will charm you, fill you with awe, make you feel on edge, surprise you, and make you want to keep on reading no mater what important obligations you might have waiting for you to accomplish. Since finishing the book this afternoon, I was so curious about this fine writer that I started doing research into his life, philosophy, and writing. It seems that in prepublication interviews, Gaiman says that he's prouder of this particular work than anything else he's ever written...and, as I learned today, this is an author who has had an insanely prolific career spanning blockbuster successes across a large number of different creative media. He says he's put an enormous amount of effort into writing and rewriting this book in order to get the tone, words, and dramatic focus just right. A number of critics have already said they consider this work to be as close to sterling literary fiction as Gaiman is ever likely to get. Indeed, I was very impressed. For me, this work is, without doubt, first-rate fantasy and escapist fiction...and very fine literature, as well. It delivers a highly imaginative, fabulous and fascinating fable that envelops, and attempts to explain, everything in the space-time continuum. Yes, it's that ambitious! It had me hooked from the first to the last page. Simply put: it is an incredible gem of a novel.

Some books catch us by surprise. I decided to read Neil Gaiman's THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE the other day because I was going to take a walk, and it was going to be a long walk, and I wanted something to read that would feel simple. Since the book I had originally planned on a reading is around 500 pages, I opted instead for the 178-page, much lighter, Gaiman novel, having no idea what to expect (the dust jacket synopsis does little to explain the true nature of this story), only to return nearly 3 hours later with over half the book read. I could have finished it that day, but I decided to let it rest, and to draw out the enjoyment. THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE begins with a 47-year-old unnamed main character returning home for a funeral and, seeking some solitude, he finds himself driving around town and winding up on a farm he vaguely recalls having visited the year he was seven. He finds the pond on the property and suddenly memories begin to resurface. The little girl who lived here, she was eleven, her name was Lettie Hempstock, and she said the pond was an ocean. And with those memories come the rest. That was the year the opal miner who had been boarding with them stole their father's car, drove it to the end of the lane, and committed suicide. And that act, desperation over his partners' gambled money, allows a supernatural force access to the town where it starts giving people money. The boy wakes up the next morning, choking on a coin and he goes to Lettie because he sensed something . . . more about her the previous day, her and her mother and grandmother. He tells them what's happening and Lettie brings him along as she sets out to discover the source. What they find is a creature trying to gain further access to the world, which Lettie tries to bind to its current spot, but a momentary shock gives the creature all the opportunity it needs to hitch a ride back with the boy. The next morning, his mother announces they've got a new babysitter, Ursula Monkton. And Ursula's first rule is, neither the boy nor his little sister are allowed to leave the property while their parents are gone. And if the boy doesn't like Ursula's rules, and if he tries to disobey them, he'll be locked in the attic. This sets in motion a chain of devastating events that culminates with Lettie being given to the ocean, which may or may not return her if and when she's ready. THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE surprised me at every turn. When I ordered it, I didn't expect such a slim novel. I didn't expect such fluid writing (my experience with Gaiman novels swings back and forth between the pleasant and easily-read THE GRAVEYARD BOOK and the much more demanding and cluttered AMERICAN GODS) nor such a swiftly moving tale. And as much as I should have, because I've been reading Gaiman for so long, I didn't expect such insight. Gaiman's recollections of childhood and the magic contained in the objects of our childhood still amazes me. Every time I read a book like this, I have that moment when I think ok, I'm not alone, someone else remembers, too. And that's a good feeling when you're 40 and you realize one day that your own kids are less interested in playing with toys than you are. In Gaiman's hands, there's nothing more magical than childhood, nor more dangerous, because children are so in touch with that world that it's very easy for the lines to become blurred and for that stranger place, and its occupants, to find ways to cross over and do their damage. While I found the novel to be an easy read, I did find it odd that the author only uses contractions in dialogue, but never in the narrative. I just find that a strange choice and it only serves to remind me writers get paid by the word. Another curious thing about this novel, I have spent so much of my Gaiman time listening to him reading his own works, from the WARNING: CONTAINS LANGUAGE cd to the CORALINE audio book to the NEIL GAIMAN AUDIO COLLECTION, that it's nearly impossible now for me to read one of his books without my mind automatically translating that inner voice to Neil Gaiman's. I suppose that could be seen as a positive, because now, no matter how long or what book, if Gaiman wrote it, in my mind I always get to listen to him reading it to me. I'm not sure if I would consider THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE a novel for adults or for younger readers. While the main character is 7, and while the main themes of the book are childhood and those lines between child- and adulthood, the book does contain a sex scene. It's not a graphic one, but it's one I don't need my 14-year-old daughter to read, even though the scene is played out in one or two sentences, and the word "sex" isn't mentioned. The fact remains, it's there and it gives me pause before I hand the finished book over to my daughter. Just something to think about. Overall, however, I very much enjoyed the book (even if I did feel, at times, he was just mining unused material from CORALINE and MIRRORMASK, but I think we all do that from time to time), and can recommend this one with no problems, even if only for ease of reading. If you've ever wanted to read a Neil Gaiman novel but were halted by AMERICAN GODS and THE GRAVEYARD BOOK just seemed too silly (it's not, that's an excellent book), then THE OCEAN AT THE END OF THE LANE could be the one to finally let you see what a talent Gaiman is when he's really cranking on all cylinders. This is a good story, well-written, and easy to read. What more could you ask for?

Title: The Ocean at the End of the Lane Author: Neil Gaiman Rating: 5 Stars My Review My first thought as I dove into this story was that I was excited to finally acquaint myself with Gaiman's work. It was wonderful getting to know someone so beloved directly through his words. I had no preconceived notions (beyond one broken-up viewing of Coraline, the movie). And what did I think? I loved "Ocean". It was a fast and fun read and the story was never so convoluted that it felt like work following its thread. Gaiman said he wrote it intending to craft a short story and ending up with a novel instead. That seems accurate given that the arc of the story is rapid and fairly clean. It feels a lot like a great short story. My second impression as the story unfolded was that of a familiar ripple...a sense of dark déjà vous. I was transported back to my days as a young woman swimming about in Latino literature, desperate to understand its unique magnetic pull on my heart. Today, someone would explain that tug to me as "magical realism", a dull term for a provocative style. Provocative to me at least. The aplomb with which post-colonial Latino authors wove fantasy into reality was as beautiful and foreign to me as the aurora. Adrift in the stream of their tales I often tried to grip the vision and force it to take form, only to have it slip away, dancing more at the edges of my mind (like a hunger bird) than at its center. It was some of the most challenging storytelling I'd ever encountered. "Ocean" struck me as a beautiful bit of magical realism. I know that magical realism is not a genre, but in some ways I feel like it should be. To call Ocean simply "fantasy" overlooks all of the other elements that make it great...and for those seeking dragons and warlocks, it will be a miss. To call it "ya" overlooks the fact that it is, in fact, the story of an adult. I feel that magical realism is the most accurate description that I can give. And in the tradition of the greats in this style (Allende, Marquez, Llosa, Oki), this story is dark. Though it is told mostly from the point of view of a young child and features fantastical things both good and evil, it's fairy-tale like elements are in the old-school style of ACTUAL danger and strife. Consider the difference between the original LITTLE MERMAID and the Disney version, for example. I love both, but when you get into magical realism, there's is always an opacity or complexity to the hybrid world. It makes me squint as if the entire thing were filmed in darkness, a la Pan's Labyrinth. There is no rescuing glitter or sparkle. Though there are "good" guys in whom you, like the narrator, place all your faith, you still sense that the evils are darker and stronger because they are INSIDE him ********Small Spoiler Alert - Some Details Included******************* I love the way that this type of story allows you to feel the "lessons" often inherent in fairy-tales, but as in the style of an adept fairy-tale, the lessons are just part of the overall weave. For me, the critical moment for this character is when the hunger birds send the hallucination of his father and he finally says what he'd wanted to say in real life...that his father is abusive and his vitriol is damaging him. I also appreciated later how Gaiman reconciles this tension some through the lens of adulthood: the child understanding, finally, that he wasn't the son his father had really wanted or understood. Gaiman doesn't try to make it all better and tra-la-la, it's more of a factual assessment than a lead-up to teary reconciliations. The primary villain, the "flea" Ursula (Why do Ursula's get such a bad rap?) is an excellent portrayal, shown through a child's eyes. It's important in this type of story that the villain be as she is, with the "monstrous" part of her nature being more human than otherworldly - her encouragement of adultery and child abuse, her focus on self and material or personal gratifications, her drawing joy from rendering others powerless. When you see her "other" nature behind the facade, it's suitably horrifying, but it also serves as the reminder that utterly human villains are the most frightening, in the end. What lies beneath, if you will... And the importance of the "Ocean", in the end. It is the brass ring of human consciousness, in my opinion, and yet, as Lettie tells us, we cannot withstand it. Without giving a spoiler that ruins things, the "Ocean" represents that critical dichotomy between what we believe we want and what we actually want...or perhaps, can survive. Sundry Additional Thoughts I think Gaiman's handling of the seven-year-old protagonist is excellent. His fears, his feelings, his impressions, and his dialogue all ring true. He even captured the very literal nature of this age group. The epigraph with Sendak is, of course, absolutely perfect, as Gaiman himself expressed in his acknowledgement. Sendak HAS to come to mind with this story, there's just no getting around it. The storytelling is incredibly well done. Surprise, right? The foreshadowing and references are subtle enough that though the "reveal" doesn't come as a total surprise, you haven't been beat to death with it the moment it happens. That's nailing it, IMHO. I also love the cover. It's perfect and haunting. I see the entire story through this lens. Summary I recommend this book very highly to anyone who enjoys a great story. It is suitable for any age, though you may want to read or discuss this with elementary-aged children as there are a couple scenes that could be scary for children the same age as the protagonist. It is fantastical and lovely. I'm very glad I stepped off my usual sci-fi and dystopian superhighway to read this excellent book.

Have you ever picked up and book and thought... "This is going to be magical!" We do it often as children; the first time we read "The Lion The Witch and The Wardrobe" or nab the last copy of "The Swiss Family Robinson" from the library. We are open, expectant, and still so full of wonder. I miss that...the older I get and the more I read. The feeling I used to get when a new book was laid before me. How my eyes would light up, my breath would hitch, and this solid belief I possessed, that if I held that book close enough, or tight enough to my heart I could actually feel the words seeping into my bones. Etching their story into a place of permanence so I would never forget them. I could look at a book and think... "This is going to be magical." And I would truly, honestly, believe it. Today that feeling was given back to me. Today...my eyes shimmered and my fingers tingled. Because today...I read "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" and my gut was right. It was magical. "Sussex, England. A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy. Forty years earlier, a man committed suicide in a stolen car at this farm at the end of the road. Like a fuse on a firework, his death lit a touchpaper and resonated in unimaginable ways. The darkness was unleashed, something scary and thoroughly incomprehensible to a little boy. And Lettie--magical, comforting, wise beyond her years--promised to protect him, no matter what." For those of you that have read Neil Gaiman's work in the past, you already know he has a unique way of story telling. I'm not referring to his Gothic undertones (though they were slightly less under and more blatant tones this go round) or even his ability to incorporate childhood fables into the majority of his work. What I'm referring to is his narrative cadence. Huh? I want you to think back to the last book you read. (Go on...this will just take a second. Promise.) When you were reading that story, WHO was relaying it to you? Chances are you HEARD everything from the character themselves. Am I right? This is often the case, and there is absolutely NOTHING wrong with it. I'll be the first to admit I love living vicariously through characters. But this is not the case in Gaiman novels. Instead they read as if someone on the "outside" is reading it TO you. Like grandpa dropped by for a bite, and then decided to stay for an extra hour and tell you a story. They do not "sound like" words on a page, they "sound like" memories. He accomplishes this is by interrupting his own story. "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" is (for a lack of better terminology) a flashback. The entire novel revolves around the lead protagonists memories. Because of this (rather engaging choice in plot formats) he is able to tell the story AND converse with the reader at the same time. For example: "I was not scared of the dark, and I was perfectly willing to die (as willing as any seven-year-old, certain of his immortality, can be) if I died waiting for --" But these are all semantics aren't they? Hiccups in the face of what really matters. They story itself. And this is where things get complicated. I will NOT tell you about the plot itself; other than to say it was spectacular. I will NOT elaborate on the characters; other than to say they were beautifully developed. I will NOT convey to you my thoughts on the ending, because it is the glue that holds the entire novel together. Instead I'll tell you that this book is both enlightening: "Adults follow paths. Children explore. Adults are content to walk the same way, hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to adults to step off the paths, to creep beneath rhododendrons, to find the spaces between fences." And frightening: "Perhaps I ought to turn you inside out, so your heart and brains and flesh are all naked and exposed on the outside, and the skin-side's inside. Then I'll keep you wrapped up in my room here, with your eyes staring forever at the darkness inside yourself." It's insightful: "Nobody actually looks like they really are on the inside. You don't. I don't. People are much more complicated than that. It's true of everybody." And realistic: "I went away in my head, into a book. That was where I went whenever real life was too hard or too inflexible." It told the truth: "Books were safer than other people." "I'm going to tell you something important. Grown-ups don't look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren't any grown-ups. Not on, in the whole wide world." In short, it was everything it should be. It's expensive, but spend the money. It's worth every penny. Happy reading my fellow Kindle-ites and remember: "And above all, watch with glittering eyes the whole world around you because the greatest secrets are always hidden in the most unlikely places. Those who don't believe in magic will never find it." - Roald Dahl

I'm a very big fan of Neil Gaiman's book American Gods, and his comic The Sandman, and some of his other works. The thing about the Gaiman is that I'm not in love with everything he does. Stardust, Neverwher, and Coraline didn't really work for me. The Ocean At The End Of The Lane sits in the middle somewhere. This novel lacks the density of American Gods or The Sandman. It feels more like a really long short story than it does a novel when you consider that Gaiman's novels tend to have a lot of layers, a lot of complexity and mystery (at least, his good ones), but it is moving, and warm. It's a pleasant, quick read. I loved Lettie. I loved the mythology of it all. I do wish there were more to it, but I think maybe I'll reread it again in a year or two and see if I am still curious about it. Gaiman's strength has always, in my opinion, been in adapting mythologies that already exist and here we get to see him create his own. This is usually where he falls flat for me. Neverwhere and Stardust are prime examples of this. In The Ocean At The End Of The Lane, Gaiman creates a beautiful mythology, but does nothing with it. I liked it OK. I'm torn. I wanted to love it. I wanted to be mystified and inspired. Hopefully the next one will be more layered and "full". Maybe the next one will be more provocative. I've heard people call this novel "magical realism" but it's clearly modern fantasy. It's definitely not appropriate for kids. It seems really personal and fun. It's dedicated to his wife and he's talked about it being connected to a memory of his from childhood so maybe it was more personal than his other works and thus loses something when read by someone who only knows his works, I can't say. I would suggest reading the kindle sample and deciding if you want to buy it based on that. I read the physical book so I'm not sure what all is included in the sample, but I bet it'll give you insight. And Gaiman is always charming and interesting, so there is that.

I had no idea, really, what to expect from this new novel. I had not "tripped the literary light fantastic" with one of Neil's works since the fine "Graveyard Book" and he had been so heavily immersed in the vortex of social media (from what I could tell) that I wondered if his output --or the quality of his output-- might be adversely affected. Indeed, after reading his prologue, (the protagonist is never named as a child or as an adult in this first-person narrative), I wondered if Gaiman had perhaps gone off the rails. The prologue was such a disoriented, rambling mess full of commas and clunks and stuttered sentences and so much disconnected atmosphere that I began to panic. "We've lost the great Neil Gaiman!" I gasped to the wall in disbelief. I think I may have even started to sweat, for I have so enjoyed and treasured his work through the years -- its reliability and soulful craftsmanship. I need not have feared, and no Gaiman fan ought to fear, either. It soon became apparent that the aforementioned prologue was intended to introduce the reader to a man clearly mired in confusion and a haze of uncertain memories about his past as he attends a funeral and decides, on an inexplicable impulse, to take a drive down the country lane where he lived long ago as a child. He finds an astonishing-but-subtle magic waiting there for him beside a nondescript farmhouse pond and the sweeping truth of his lost youthful experiences in the neighborhood comes flooding back. Once Gaiman begins to weave the narrative of the story proper, he is in full command of his usual powers, duly unraveling for us a tapestry of imaginative brilliance, unforgettable imagery, poignant reflection on the nature of worldly (and otherworldly) reality and some of the most opulent, original characterizations of his entire career. The unnamed child at the heart of the tale is a book-loving, introverted, but never the less brave little fellow in his own way, and a series of events both mundane and disturbing lead him to visit the farm down at the bottom of the lane, where dwell the three Hempstock females -- eleven year-old Lettie, her mother Ginnie and Old Mrs. Hempstock, the matriarch. It becomes swiftly apparent that these women are not exactly "of this world," despite their homely and winsome ways. The imperative destiny of their existence in the boy's suddenly frightening and fast-changing life is never fully explained, but their relationship to him becomes crucial, for the child has stumbled upon a gateway between worlds, as if by accident, and he is soon to need the mystical and powerful help of the Hempstock women ... for other, less benevolent forces have found their way into this innocuous corner of the world, as well. At the symbolic heart of this novel is the barnyard pond, which Lettie Hempstock calls her "ocean," for it has apparently carried her and her mother and grandmother across vast expanses of time, space, and magic despite its seeming insignificance, its everyday plainness. The aching, almost heartbreaking simplicity and poignancy of Gaiman's use of the pond is one of the most subtly powerful devices he has ever employed in his works. I will reveal no spoilers, beyond the fact that Gaiman re-explores the themes of lost worlds, parallel worlds, doors between worlds, and the helpers and villains who journey to our sphere via those doors. Mythological themes are likewise evoked, in grand Gaiman tradition, but one of his finest strengths has always been the glorious economy of his writing style and the ability to resist telling the reader too much, thereby leaving us tantalized and struck with a sense of awe, wonder and mystery appropriate to this kind of fairy tale or fantasy. Some have noted that this book bears a great deal of similarity to "Coraline" but any similarities are incidental, at most, in my opinion. This book has the potency of a long-cherished fable and is rendered in the first-person (very beautifully, I might add) and, as mentioned, Gaiman's themes of primordial myth, god-like beings dwelling among modern humans, and interweaving worlds are hardly unique to "Coraline" or this new book; these leitmotifs are features of almost all of his books and the presence of a child protagonist and some decidedly adult themes make this book quite different from Coraline or Graveyard. In tone, "Ocean" stands wholly on its own while reminding me in some ways of the splendor, dark charm and radiant beauty of "Stardust," only the setting is more contemporary and thus perhaps a bit more accessible and relevant. It is also more daring in its insinuations about the very nature of the fabric that holds the universe(s) together. When I mention fabric, I do so with the warning that fabric might just instill a bit of the same terror that buttons managed to instill in Coraline, in an altogether different way. The book is indeed short, and in just a few places the dialogue gets a small, very tiny bit trite when it comes to certain characters seeking to explaining great mysteries of creation, but these factors are negligible only for the deduction of one half-star (I would have rated this a 4 and 1/2 read). With "The Ocean at the End of the Lane" Gaiman has delivered yet another work of completeness in its beauty, terror and affecting honesty. With the mountains of unreadable pulp and garbage heaping-up all around us and posing as "novels" in today's market, Gaiman's latest stands as a beacon and reminder that good books require good writers who have worked relentlessly to pay some dues, hone their skills and who pride themselves on their craftsmanship, along with the impeccable standards exacted by proper editors. Watch, read, learn and enjoy, book-lovers of the world -- we are fortunate to have Gaiman write so beautifully for us in this often undeserving age of compromised quality.

<i>The Ocean at the End of the Lane</i> plays with my head a bit; it is like all of Gaiman's novels steeped in mythology and written a bit like a whimsical prose poem. Or at least an attempt at one. There is a hint of satire at play here, reminding me a tad of Ronald Dahl's stories, except it lacks the cruelty of Dahl, and is far more whimsical like Terry Prachett (without the annoying puns) or JK Rowling (without the politics). The story on its face is rather simple. A man returns to his childhood home to reminisce about his childhood after providing the eulogy at a funeral. He sits in front of a duck pond, and slowly remembers a magical and nightmarish period of time when he was seven years of age and the pond was an ocean. Gaiman pulls from various myth and legend tropes, along with various places and memories from his own childhood to paint this small tapestry of a story. For <i>The Ocean at the End of the Lane</i> is in some respects just that, a tapestry interwoven with words instead of thread by a master of the craft. The words have a sound and texture all their own...and the book requires a bit of focus, but also a bit of letting it go. Much like Gaiman's other tales, the protagonist is almost a non-entity, barely there...and here unlike those novels, we never even learn his name. He feels at times like a stand-in for the author or for us. We never see what he looks like. And he tells us, at one point, that how others view him is something he can never quite know, and when he looks at himself or tries to see himself through others - all he sees is a variety of mirrors always looking inward. The non-identity of the narrator serves this tale better than Gaiman's other efforts - in that it lends itself to the thematic arc and mystery. We aren't quite sure of our narrator's memories. As another character tells him towards the end of the novel, that everyone remembers things differently – no two people remember things the same. Various female characters appear throughout, and in this novel the women have power, while the men seem to have none. Gaiman appears to be more found of writing female characters than male characters – his female characters are more complex and more powerful, while his male characters can often feel card-board thin. At any rate the men in this novel seem to be at the women’s mercy. Ineffectual. Dependent. As is the narrator. There are four main female characters and they appear to be pulled from myth, the Hempstock women, grandmother, mother, and daughter or crone, mother, and maid – who is eleven to the narrator’s seven. She is missing at the beginning of the novel, off in Australia, and missing in the end. And there is Ursula Moonstruck, the babysitter and roomer, and something else altogether. For a villain, she’s more than meets the eye. She gives people what they want – it’s all that she wished to do, and the boy, our narrator is her way into our world and her way home again. The story has a surrealistic feel and plays with the mind long after you leave it, much as it plays with the narrator, whose memories of the tale he tells seem to diminish once he leaves the Hempstock estate and the Ocean at the End of the lane, where his child home stood, once upon a time.

I was dying to read this book. So I bought it the day it came out and instantly sat down and read it. It was a spectacular read with a dark fairy tale vibe to it and a very nostalgic atmosphere. The book starts with our nameless main character who is a middle aged man who has journeyed back to his childhood town for a funeral. Once there he journeys to the Hempstock farm and starts to remember strange things about his childhood that he has long forgotten. Thus starts the tale of a seven year boy and a magical girl named Lettie Hempstock who believes the duck pond behind her house is an ocean. Spectacular read with a dark fairy tale/folklorish vibe to it. I enjoyed it a lot. This book is very atmospheric, full of subtle magic, and a bit creepy. As normal Gaiman does an excellent job with imagery and really makes the world and time come alive for his readers. The majority of the book is told from a child's perspective and as such the story has a very childlike quality to it. The narrator doesn't see things like an adult would and tends to simplify certain problems while still being able to accept a world beyond his imagination. We are introduced to a world that is both nostalgic and eerily magical. There are monsters that dwell here and monsters that prey on those monsters. There are strangely sympathetic cats, little girls that are old, and ponds that are really oceans. It is a magical place that lies within and near our world. It is also a dark and scary place but not without it's light. The book mainly emphasis the power and importance of story and the quest of one adult to follow his nostalgia and unravel the mysteries that surround it. This book would probably be appropriate for young adults, but not for younger readers. The monsters are way to creepy for younger readers, they were enough to give me nightmares. As well there is a scene where the narrator's father is intimately involved with another woman (which the narrator as a child doesn't understand). There was also a scene where the narrator digs a gigantic worm out of his foot that really grossed me out... The story wraps up in a way that is full of irony and will make you chuckle a bit as a reader. It is also a bit sad and melancholy. It's the type of story you think back to and wonder at. Definitely something I will read again at some point. Overall I thought this was a spectacular read. I loved the dark fairy tale feel to it, the way childhood wonder and nostalgia are portrayed, and the absolutely terrifying monsters that the narrator encounters. Gaiman has a created a story full of the wonder of childhood, the terror of things that bump in the night, and the magicallness of it all. This is a wondrous story that I recommend everyone read.

La edición en sí es hermosa, aunque hubiera deseado que fuese un libro cosido y no pegado, al ser un libro de la editorial Morrow no se podía esperar otra cosa, sin embargo he de reconocerles que el hecho de que esté impreso en papel couché, que la edición tenga un cuidado espectacular y que me recuerde tanto a la edición de A monster calls de Patrick Ness han hecho que se lleve las 5 estrellas, la ilustradora es una genio! Todo el libro tiene ilustraciones prácticamente no hay hoja que quede en blanco pues hasta las guardas del libro vienen con información. La historia es muy emotiva, nostálgica y conmovedora, ese realismo mágico que pasa de un sueño a la realidad y viceversa. Si saben inglés y quieren empezar con un libro de Neil Gaiman que no sea tan infantil como puede ser Coraline o Stardust les recomendaría a parte de El libro del cementerio, este sin lugar a dudas. Soy coleccionista y aunque está es una edición que normalmente no taeria en la calle leyendo es una edición que bien vale la pena tener en casa solo de lo hermosa que es.

Brilliant book. Mesmerizing storytelling. Magical. I liked the book so much, i finished it all in 1 day. The writing is flawless. Gaiman has a charming, unparalleled style of writing. The story is a fantasy and more of a children's book, this is. But this is listed under adult fiction, and I am sure people of all ages will love this book. I feel, everyone should read this book. I am going to recommend it to every friend! Fantasy was never my genre,until I read Neil Gaiman.

Credo che sia opportuno fare una premessa a questa recensione. Uno dei modi che trovo utile per classificare i libri è quella di dividerli in libri “di cuore” e libri “di cervello”. I libri della prima categoria arricchiscono la nostra parte intuitiva, i nostri sentimenti, la nostra meraviglia di fronte ai misteri della vita e di questo universo, la nostra capacità di amare altro che noi stessi. I secondi nutrono la nostra sete di sapere, il nostro intelletto, le basi della nostra cultura. Bene, come in tutte le cose, non c’è solo il bianco o il nero, ma tutte le gradazioni di grigio intermedie, per cui non esiste nessun libro che è solo “di cuore” e nessuno che è solo “di cervello”, ma ogni libro ha entrambi gli aspetti. A volte alcuni libri sono tuttavia sbilanciati verso una di queste due direzioni. Per i miei gusti, di solito, mi tengo lontano dai libri sbilanciati verso la direzione “cervello” e, di solito, mi appassionano quelli “di cuore”. Ebbene questo libro di Gaiman è profondamente sbilanciato verso il lato “cuore” della letteratura. Va benissimo per me, ma (e qui termino questo lungo preambolo) devo avvertire chi cerca intellettualità nei libri che probabilmente è meglio tenersi lontano da questo libro, e che comunque non mi assumo responsabilità nel caso si cercasse un’esperienza intellettuale in questo libro. Il libro ci racconta alcuni spezzoni di vita di un bambino di sette anni, visto attraverso i suoi occhi… più precisamente dei ricordi di un adulto di quando era bambino… ma che in realtà lo è ancora… il bambino dentro di noi non muore mai, qualsiasi sia la nostra età anagrafica, anche se a volte perdiamo il contatto con questa parte di noi, questa è una delle cose che il libro ci suggerisce. Il racconto è visto con questi occhi di bambino. Un bambino (e un libro) aperto allo stupore e alla meraviglia. Di questo libro mi è piaciuto subito tutto: lo stile con cui è narrato, pieno di humor e vita e paure e magia; l’immaginazione; il senso del mistero e di stupore di fronte a questo tutto di cui sappiamo così poco; il fissarsi su quei dettagli piccoli, che gli adulti trascurano, quelle piccole cose che sono quelle che realmente contano. Però, per una gran parte del libro, non sono entrato nel libro, era come se apprezzassi la storia e tutto, ma non mi entrasse nel cuore veramente, pensavo ci fosse una contaminazione della parte cerebrale che lo facesse apparire come un libro di cuore mentre invece era studiato a tavolino… Poi è come accaduta una magia, dentro di me, non solo dentro il libro… ad un tratto sono entrato nel libro o il libro è entrato in me, ho avuto un brivido lungo la schiena (questo, per me, sempre, è il momento in cui un libro si rivela per un capolavoro, o almeno per me quel momento del brivido, quando il cuore si apre, e la commozione entra dentro è quello che aspetto che un libro mi doni, più di ogni altra cosa)... a quel punto, non solo quella parte finale del libro che mi aveva donato questo, ma l’intero libro che era stato magistralmente costruito per quel momento, è entrato in me, anche le parti che avevo letto finora, o io sono entrato nel libro… Sono sempre più rari i libri che mi danno questa sensazione di meraviglia e bellezza (bellezza vera, come quella di chi si dona per un altro), forse perchè sono diventato troppo adulto, forse perchè vengono scritti meno libri “di cuore”... ma questo libro è uno di quelli e lo consiglio caldamente a tutti quelli che nei libri cercano quello che cerco io.

Neil Gaiman is a wordsmith. A magician when it comes to storytelling. The bar is set high when he publishes a new book or a story. Mr Gaiman also never disappoints me. “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” is a story about the memories of a childhood but clearly not a children’s book. The world is so full of mysteries and puzzles and strange things when you see through the eyes of a seven year old. What seems to be small and unimportant for grown ups is something huge and sometimes horrible for a mind that explores, learns and experiments in order to understand how some things are working or being meant. “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” is a journey back to childhood wonders and fears. The feeling strangers cause and thunderstorms and what death is and friendship and how an ocean that saves you can fit into a bucket. The story is full of images, twisted and strange and so powerful that it is difficult to put the book aside. It sucks you in and makes you taste and cherish all those words and structures Mr Gaiman so skillfully weaves. Once you are finished you will carry the impressions around with you; the feeling some happenings within the story caused to you and the “after read” quakes are tangible for quite a while. It is a book full of horror and nightmares, of goodbyes and wonders and a very wise view of the world.

Boek nodig voor examen haar maar de begin pagina's laten los van de binding