Book Review: The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman

The first time we read American Gods, C said to me “This is why I can never write a book, because I could never be this good.” The truth is, there are very few people who are as talented at writing as Neil Gaiman, and The Ocean at the End of the Lane continues his tradition of authorial excellence.

I cannot truly give a summary of the plot without giving too much away. I think it is best to say this is a book about memory, childhood, and the way how we view the world changes as we grow older. It is also a book about friendship and sacrifice, and asks the age old question of “Was it worth it?” without ever actually trying to answer the question.

The characters are well drawn and believable. There are varying levels of detail given that all make sense based on how memory changes over time – somethings we remember with crystal clarity and others just fade into the background. What you never doubt are the emotions of the main character. Gaiman manages to write an unreliable narrator who is absolutely reliable.

What I mean by that is that we know we are viewing the story through memory, and then through the eyes of a child, and children are traditionally unreliable narrators, as they do not understand everything in the world around them. At the same time, the narrator is always emotionally true to himself. Even if you as an adult would not believe the story, you know the child telling it to you believes it completely.

As usual, Gaiman manages to mix myth and magic seamlessly into the “real” world, creating an ocean out of a duck pond – an ocean I would love to visit.