The Ocean at the End of the Lane

I am a bit late to the party with this book. It has been converted for the stage by the time I am finally reading it and there is already a tremendous weight of positive feedback wherever you care to look it up. What I didn't expect was the simplicity of delivery which a story with this much dimension can be executed. Those who have read enough horror or fantasy will implicitly know the stakes and the types of supernatural players involved, yet the story is noteworthy in being so delicately imparted through a seven-year old's innocent point of view. The story follows the systematic isolation of the hero by a sinister imposter in the family home, which authentically reeks of any young nightmares I certainly remember having at this age. Unlikely alliances, consequences and lingering magic bolt along and the story is suddenly over with an aftertaste of hope/haunting/regret. I don't know. I will be reading this again.

I got Mr. Gaiman to sign my copy of this book, which I obtained several days before the official publication date. He came to Bath and read two passages with an interview sandwiched between and an audience question session after. Then he signed thousands of books, very patiently and with consideration for those waiting - for instance as it got later he asked for people with children to be allowed to jump the queue - which was a theatre-ful of fans. And they really are fans; he was given a rock-star reception and some people were conspicuous by their dress as folks from Sandman, mainly Dream.

Gaiman read really well, making everybody laugh and getting everyone excited to read the book they were early recipients of.

So how was it? Kinda disappointing, actually. Early on I struggled with it - where was the humour that was so evident when Gaiman was reading aloud? I started imagining his voice whilst I read and this worked - and it was enough to get me into the story, which is framed by an adult returning to the scene of his childhood adventure. The book is drenched in nostalgia for childhood and I can't say I liked that aspect of it at all. The best parts were where this was least obtrusive. The story is also one that mainly happens to the protagonist; he's quite passive for much of the time and solving the problems falls to others, which feels a little weak to me.

Still, it was imaginative and evocative and piecing together what had really happened made for a satisfyingly appropriate final section.

So once again a flawed novel, like American Gods, but much that is worthwhile in it. Some people are saying it's Gaiman's best novel but Coraline and Neverwhere are both much more nearly perfect, to me, and I like them much more.