What I Read...

Last week I read Neil Gaiman's The Ocean at the End of the Lane. I had pre-ordered the novel because it's Neil Gaiman, of course I wanted to read it.

This is a short read. I read it in a few hours. And immediately wanted to start it again. In fact, I enjoyed it so much, I've been re-reading all of Gaiman's work just so I can continue to be immersed in the creepy, beautiful worlds he creates.

The story is about a middle aged man who returns to his childhood town for a funeral. While there, he is drawn to the old farm at the end of the lane where the biggest adventure/horror of his childhood took place.

Gaiman captures the magic and terror that are childhood. These two are inseparable, and Gaiman allows them to interweave in this story. The book is beautiful. And terrifying. Haunting--in the best sense. It stays with you. It's hard to pin down, and if you talk about it too much, you crush it. It starts slowly and builds quickly.

I write in my books. I take notes, have arguments with the author, characters, and sometimes myself. I underline, star, and use punctuation in the margins like high-fives. It's part of the reading process for me. But every now-and-again, I come across a book that demands I put the pencil down and simply consume. The Ocean at the End of the Lane is such a book. I will reread this book, and when I do, I'm sure I will write in the margins. I will underline and star and everything else, but the first read held me so tightly I couldn't begin that type of dissection. The story-telling gripped me. Do yourself a favor: read this book. Go to your library, or your bookstore, or your friend's house, and when you're done, come back here and talk to me about it.