It says much that for a story about a young boy, The Ocean at the End of the Lane is possibly Gaiman’s least playful work to date. The most appropriate comparisons perhaps, are to Patrick Ness’ deeply sad A Monster Calls, or those Ghibli films of Hayao Miyazaki that knit interactions with unexplained worlds and creatures around the perimeters of a childhood home. For a novel about ageless, world-stitching neighbours, alien realms, and spirits both malevolent and pitiable, that’s no small achievement.Īt a little over two-hundred pages, it’s amongst Gaiman’s shorter novels, and half the size of his expansive American Gods. Gaiman’s cultural touchstones – Smash! comics, Blackjack sweets, ITV’s How – may fit a sixties childhood, but so much about the narrator’s perspective and experiences cleaves to the common terrors and rare comforts of being a kid, it becomes almost universal.
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