The Ocean at the End of the Lane is one of those books.
The kind where you break out the highlighter, or bend pages back, because there are passages that strike you as so profound in such a simple way, you want to read them over and over again.
Neil Gaiman is at his fantastical best with The Ocean at the End of the Lane—a short, you-can-read-in-one-sitting novel that serves as a fictional memoir for a middle-aged man, returning to his roots in Sussex, in time for a funeral. Is it the death of a loved one that reminds him on some subconscious level of his childhood friend, Lettie Hempstock? Maybe it’s the rote memory inside of all of us that led him back down a familiar lane to his friend’s home. No matter—our narrator soon finds himself at a pond and awash in memories of being 7 years old and powerless, all over again.
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