A Review of Neil
Gaiman's
"The Ocean at the End of the Lane"
by Jean Woest
There are
few living authors that have such a long lists of accolades or such a fierce
fan presence as Neil Gaiman. Present in every imaginable medium (novel, graphic
novel, film, television, picture books, children's books, young adult books,
literary novels, short story, and video game) Gaiman has left an indelible mark
on literature already.
And then he
decided to write a short story-- that became a novel-- called "The Ocean at
the End of the Lane".
It's not a
very thick book. It can be read through in a few hours, though it calls for--
almost demands-- a closer, more paced reading. Because in that small space is
contained not only the real, visceral and fragile presence of childhood, but
also the echoes of the after effects of trauma and the questions this raises
around memory.
At face
value it is the story of a memory. A memory that has been lost and is then
regained. A memory of childhood horrors, of broken promises, and of magic. It
is the memory of a child. Told by a man. And this is very important.
Children
see more than adults see, and so recall things that adults never remember. But
at the same time, adults have records that stand under the support of witnesses
and receipts, records of things that disprove childhood memories. There is real
tension here. And there is so much at stake. This is the crux-- the tensions--
that Gaiman plays with.
Some
authors would chose a side and argue for it, build straw man opponents and
knock them down. Others would show both sides equally, leaving their readers
floating listlessly at the end in an unending moral vacuum. Gaiman somehow
manages to do neither, and that is precisely the thing that causes this
reviewer to keep rereading the work, to try and figure out how exactly an
author can refuse to take a side, and yet still leave his readers grounded
firmly in the belief that the good won, or rather, that the good endured the
trials. Or rather, that there is still good in the world, even if we cannot
recall it's presence. It's echoes rebound through our daily lives, without a
second thought to the shout that started them.
On top of
this vastly unhelpful and abstract note on the theme, Gaiman also weaves a
wonderful tale with stunning imagery, beautiful characterization, and the very
visceral feel that the reader is being pushed back forcefully into 1969 Sussex.
It has the texture of a time capsule, with the magic of a fairy tale, and the
optimism of a Shakespearian comedy.
There are
many books calling for attention at this time of the year. But Ocean is one of
the ones that deserve that attention. It is a quick read if you're willing to
read it only once. But no one reads it just once. To do so would defeat the
purpose of the story. The purpose, to remember.
You can buy The Ocean at the End of the Lane HERE
Or other works by Neil Gaiman HERE
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