Human yet deliciously alien

Neil Gaiman: The Ocean at the End of the Lane
Headline 2014 (2013)

O God, I could be bounded in a nutshell, and count myself a
king of infinite space—were it not that I have bad dreams.
— Shakespeare: Hamlet

Like all good fantasy books, what makes this novel outstanding is not so much the magic (of which there is enough to sate the most avid of fans) but the essential truths that it contains: of human nature, of joy and pain, of choices and consequences, of life and of death. It strongly evokes what it’s like to be a child trying to make sense of an adult world, learning through books and above all through bitter experience. My main criterion when judging a performance, a work of art or a book is: Would I want to experience it again? In this case the answer is unhesitatingly Yes! And why? Because it is life-affirming; while conversely — and, seemingly, perversely — affirming that the inevitable consequence of life is death.

I confess I shall be hard pushed to mention everything that struck me as I read this, so exquisite was the underlay below the equally rich surface details. The unnamed narrator has been attending a funeral in Sussex — for his father, one soon realises — and afterwards drives off to the site of the former family home, and then on to a farm, curious about the pond that he remembers being there. It instantly brings back childhood memories, specifically when he was around the age of seven; and what memories they turn out to be!

Death invades every aspect of this tale. The death of a father. A beloved kitten run over by a vehicle. A lodger who commits suicide. An elemental entity that seeks the child narrator’s death. An older child who appears to have died, unless she’s actually in Australia. Alongside Death is Time: a summer when everything is so much more vivid than what happened yesterday or last week or a few months or years ago; a family of three generations whose age is extremely hard to gauge; an entity who seems to have emerged through a crack in the fabric of time; times past which seemingly have become times forgotten.

And Space is another paradox explored here. How can a farmyard pond be conceived as an ‘ocean’? How can one small brain contain so many memories but not remember having visited a specific place more than once? How can aspects of our world — earth and grass, trees, a fox, the night sky — be consumed to reveal a void, “a perfect nothing” or “pulsing nothingness” behind them?

You will have gathered that I’m trying very hard not to outline the plot or offer spoilers or hint at the ending to this haunting novel. To be honest, it’s impossible to provide firm answers let alone conclusions to the mysteries it touches on, just like it’s impossible to make a rope out of sand or to empty the sea with a sieve. But the very act of trying to give voice to these notions is what gives The Ocean at the End of the Lane its power.

What I can say is that this fantasy is semi-autobiographical, but told in such a way that it can also be about each and every reader. In a question-and-answer section at the end of this edition Neil Gaiman sketches in how his own life experiences inform portions of this novel. Both protagonist and author grew up in Sussex, and both knew overseas lodgers who had committed suicide in the same manner. In adulthood both attended a father’s funeral (Neil’s father David died in 2009). Both had a companion who was for a time on the other side of the world (one who was physically in Australia, the other only reputedly). When young both were inveterate readers, consuming anything and everything with the printed word, and both had vivid imaginations.

As for what went on in those imaginations, we must surely all recognise similarities with our own experiences. The eternal mysteries of the adult world, rarely explained or — more likely — beyond our comprehension. The worry that an imperfectly grasped injunction or the breaking of a minor taboo can lead to fearful outcomes. The knowledge that most adults don’t believe you, especially when we give expression to our deepest fears. Above all, the fear of bogeys lurking in the wallpaper pattern, under the bed, behind the adult mask. Gaiman is a master at creating bogeymen and -women: “the man Jack” in The Graveyard Book, Messrs Croup and Vandemar in Neverwhere, the Other Mother in Coraline. Here it is the terrifying Ursula Monkton, a predator out of our nightmares intent on playing catspaw with the young protagonist. She is the witch out of every fairytale you’ve ever heard or read, and she’s waiting to throw this young Hansel into the oven whenever she is good and ready.

Against her — it — are the Hempstocks, in particular young — old — Lettie. Lettie is the childhood friend most of us wanted and so few of us got to have. If you read The Ocean at the End of the Lane you too can make her acquaintance and discover what it is about her that makes this modern fairytale simultaneously so human and yet so deliciously alien.

25 thoughts on “Human yet deliciously alien

  1. Yet again your enthusiastic review prompts me to read again a book I have already read, and in this instance remember enjoying. After your post about Emma by Austen, I re-read it and thoroughly enjoyed every bit of it. Previously it had irritated me but this time, perhaps I gave more attention to the intricacies and subtleties of character – maybe it was just a better time for me to read it. I know I would enjoy a second reading of probably any of Gaiman’s books.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m not sure if I’d want to reread all of Gaiman’s novels — American Gods and Neverwhere were good but once was enough for me — but this I’d read again, and The Graveyard Book for example (I still haven’t reviewed this last one).

      As for Austen, I do hope to read all if them again at some stage, but I’ve still a way to go, with Persuasion, the juvenilia and the unfinished novels waiting patiently in the wings.

      Anyway, glad I’ve encouraged you to revisit TOATEOTL, I certainly got a lot from it though I hope I wasn’t too OTT with my praise!

      Liked by 1 person

  2. You certainly have the art of drawing a tantalizing picture of a novel. I do wonder what you’d make of mine, measured against all the masters of the quest genre you have become so familiar with…

    Liked by 1 person

        1. That’s a very kind offer, Col, but I’m already working my way through somebody else’s manuscript. But let me know once it’s in print and I’ll happily acquire, read, *and* review a copy!


          1. Thanks for that very kind offer. It will initially be in print in SA in the next week or so, from which country it isn’t that easy to obtain. Baa Baa Black Belt, Regina and Forest Circle Quest are all on Amazon, though, but they are aimed at a younger readership than Darx Circle. For any of them the PDF option is open to you, but I take it you like holding a physical book!


    1. I’d forgotten the name until the interview at the end of this edition pointed it out! I’ve yet to review TGB so a reread will be scheduled sometime — and I’ve the first volume of the graphic novel version to compare it with now. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Ah, well, you know I have a soft spot for Mr Gaiman, so reading this review was a joy! Yes, a terrific book, this. Loved it all the way through and you’re right, we all need a Lettie as we’re growing up. I wouldn’t mind Lettie as a friend now, to be honest. Lovely review – suitably enthusiastic without spoilers, not an easy trick to pull off. You make me want to reread too.
    Will see you the other side of our move. All the best and hope you’re able to enjoy these summery days 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Fingers crossed for a successful and as stress-free a move as possible, Lynn; I think many of us understand the sort of challenges that involves!

      I spotted your recent message on my Yahoo account but frustratingly couldn’t reply as grrr it’s getting slower and slower. Briefly, my days are currently taken up with a massive overhaul (removing carpets, tacks, nails and staples then repairing and painting) of the stairwell, plus rehearsals for ‘HMS Pinafore’ for which I seem to have become repetiteur, coach for soloists and band leader.

      Little time for blog posts at any rate! And I took heart from you saying that there wasn’t a rush for alpha reading, so hope to get on with it after all this madness blows over. Honestly, retirement isn’t what it’s cracked up to be!

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Wow! Sounds as if you have a lot on! Hope the production of Pinafore goes brilliantly and you tame that stairwell! Speak to you in a couple of weeks when I have my broadband returned to me 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

  4. Joe Michalowski

    This is such a perfect review of a beautiful book. Love the connections you draw between Ursula Monkton and the evil characters in Gaiman’s other work. Especially loved this bit:

    “Alongside Death is Time: a summer when everything is so much more vivid than what happened yesterday or last week or a few months or years ago; a family of three generations whose age is extremely hard to gauge; an entity who seems to have emerged through a crack in the fabric of time; times past which seemingly have become times forgotten.”

    Glad you shared the link with me 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. You’re very welcome, Joe, I’d forgotten how much this bowled me over at the time: one of Gaiman’s more lyrical and haunting pieces in which he’d put more poetry than usual into his writing. Thanks for visiting, and I look forward to reading more of your own posts now that I’ve subscribed.


  5. Beth @ Beth's Bookish Thoughts

    Great review! I read this in 2013 and have just finished listening to the audiobook (which is excellent). I need to review it soon. It is a great book!

    Liked by 1 person

Do leave a comment

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.