The Ocean at the end of the Lane - Neil Gaiman

 

On my first visit to the library here, I was overwhelmed by the sheer amount of options I had in terms of genres and authors. Not surprising though, as I’ve moved to amazon for most of my recommendation/online research - based book purchase in the recent years and my last visit to the library was almost 4 years ago.

As I walked aisle by aisle skimming through thousands of reading options, I went with my comfort zone and picked up two books, 1 - “The ocean at the end of the lane” by Neil Gaiman, an author whose books I’ve read and “Where earth meets water” by Pia Padukone as it looked like an easy and a light read. While it is a good start to 2018, given 2017 was a “book reading” year washout, I am still on the lookout for “my” book of the year.  

This book is about a middle-aged man (the narrator) who returns to his childhood home, where memories of his life as a child are rekindled as he goes around exploring the countryside nearby. As he sits by the small pond at the end of the lane, he recollects memories of his only friend, Lettie Hempstock who helps him navigate magical creatures (including a young devilish nanny) who are out to hurt him. Lettie and her family are skilled magicians with their ancestry going back to the beginning of life itself and take a liking to him. They all unite to help the lonely boy, a boy who has no friends and turns to books for company and courage. As the 7 year old boy and an older Lettie go about facing these creatures with help from her mother and grandmother, exaggerations like the ocean at the end of the lane, which really is just a pond become believable and justified.

This book at a first glance, looks like dark fantasy novel for teenagers; and it probably is, to a large extent. Like Coraline and Stardust, two other books of his that I have read, this book too toes the line between real and surreal in a non-committal way. Are these experiences an outcome of a gross exaggeration of childhood events or just figments of imagination that have blurred over many years, Gaiman leaves it for his readers to decide. And that’s the best part about the book. It allows readers to weave in experiences from their childhood, exaggerations or otherwise and make it a personalized reading experience. For me, it reminded me of summer holidays mischiefs by me and my siblings, which are retold by my family as some exaggerated heroic (but mostly mischievous) acts.

Mostly entertaining but chilling at times, Gaiman’s dark story telling skills are commendable. I’d recommend picking this book up as a break from some heavy reading.