Gaiman's effect

Reading The Ocean At the End Of the Lane reminded me of the reason a started devouring and loving books. There is this special privilege given to people who, book in hand, get transported to another dimension, another reality while safely curled up in bed. I especially love Neil Gaiman for bringing me to the realms of dreams and nightmares with just a turn of the page.

The book The Ocean At the End Of the Lane started out as innocently as its seven-year-old boy protagonist, slowly gaining momentum as he meets the owner of the ocean. The story intensifies as electrons, creation and midi skirts are mentioned, not in particular order, creating a magical atmosphere reminiscent to that of Madeleine L'Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time. It is more than just science fiction, as it tackled how reality is perceived by child and by grown-up – and how these two differ in age and in understanding.

“Different people remember things differently, and you’ll not get any two people to remember anything the same, whether they were there or not.” – Old Mrs. Hempstock

Initially, the protagonist, already a middle-aged man, visits the ocean at the end of the lane and remembers, vaguely, a certain event in his childhood that may or may not have changed his destiny entirely. I believe that this is a metaphor that when a young bookworm grows up and re-reads an old book, it is not only the plot that gets his attention but the lessons and the changes the story has caused in him, however minute or grand it may have been.

It baffles me how it ended, though – not abruptly or with a cliffhanger, but that it actually ended. I was – and still am – quite giddy as I finally closed the book.

“I liked that. Books were safer than other people anyway.”

Simply put, I recommend The Ocean At the End Of the Lane.