The Ocean at the End of the Lake
was the last book I read to complete my half Cannonball Read, and I
couldn't have picked a better book. But boy, is it ever a hard book
to write a review of.
Let's get these two facts out of the
way first: I don't usually enjoy Gaiman's work (heathen!). And: I
loved this book. Was it a literary masterpiece? Was its plot
original, more developed, deeper, more fascinating than all the other
books I read these past few months? It's not important. Not right
now, when I'm writing this review just a few minutes after I finished
the book. What matters is this feeling.
Our narrator is a middle-aged man,
heading back to his childhood home after a funeral without knowing
why. While there, memories long forgotten start coming back to him.
Difficult memories. Yet, beautiful in their own way. The lonely,
friendless seven-year old version of our narrator goes through
terrible loss, and he deals with it with some help from the
neighbours down the lane, the Hempstocks: Old lady Hempstock (the
grandmother), Ginnie (the mother) and Lettie (the eleven-year old
daughter).
I don't want to reveal too much about
the plot, because it is a short book and revealing more than the
above would be spoiling the whole story. And it is frustrating,
because I need to talk and think more about this book. Gaiman tackles
some pretty serious issues, and he does it through the innocent eyes
of a child, not a precocious child but a believable child, a
frightened, vulnerable child. I found it refreshing to have a smart
child that's not older than his years at the centre of a story. These
serious issues could break anyone, let alone a little boy, but if
you're a lonely boy with an over-active imagination you just might
find a way to cope, and our narrator does.
The writing was beautiful and reminded
me of a couple of my favourite authors at times, Stephen King (ca The
Body/ Stand by me) and Terry Pratchett. Gaiman's descriptions of
the environment were so vivid in detail, as honest as a childhood
memory, and I nodded my head in recognition, remembering similar
adventures I had embarked on as a child. Magic was at the core of the
story. Magic in the descriptions, magic in childhood, magic in the
way a desperate child thinks he or she can change the world if only
he or she can wish it hard enough.
This book had so much heart, so much
sorrow and sweetness. It is a book I will be revisiting and thinking
about often.
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