I read “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” last night. I’ve been meaning to read it since it came out, but I’ve postponed it, because I wanted to read it all in one go. Last night, in light of NaNoWriMo approaching, I felt a sudden need to read the book then and there.
I went home after work, cooked some soup and read for the rest of the evening until I finished and it was time to hit the pillows.
The novel has been described as Neil Gaiman’s most personal one to date. He dedicated it to “Amanda, who wanted to know”. I read the book, because I wanted to know. I couldn’t tell you what it was I wanted to know, but I suppose in a way I wanted to see, if I could catch a glimpse into his heart.
I believe I could. I believe I did.
Maybe that is just my imagination, but I felt closer to Neil Gaiman reading “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” than I have reading any of his previous novels. One reason, surely, would be the fact that he wrote it from the first point of view.
This is not a review of the book. I would need to read it at least once more to adequately put something down. And then I’m not even sure that I want to do that. In a way this book felt so personal, that I don’t feel like imposing myself on it. Reading it was personal and the way I experienced it, too, was personal.
It’s still sinking in, the whole reading experience, the story. I loved it. I have yet to read a Gaiman novel or story that I don’t love. That is a very unlikely thing to happen, though.
So, you’re going to have to read it, if you want to find out what I am talking about. Or rather, what I am avoiding to talk about.
I’m not sure how much reading I’ll be doing in the next month, or how much time I’ll spend on my blogs. I have a novel to write after all.
I’m glad I snuck this one in last night, churning this one out today. I’m sure I won’t completely disappear, but I already start feeling unsocial, telling my friends that they may get two hours out of me on the weekend, but that’ll be it.
I’m going to Barcelona in two weeks for the weekend. I’m very much looking forward to it, but it also means I’ll be losing most of that weekend to write. I’m still going to make my 50,000 words, come what may.
I can read a book in one evening. I will write a novel, or the beginning of one, in a month.
It should be an interesting ride.