The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a difficult book to categorise. It’s a fantasy. It’s an exploration of perception and memory. It’s a book for adults about childhood. It’s about sacrifice and trust. But mostly it’s a book that you should just read; it may be something different for you.
I’ve just finished reading this book for the second time. The first time was just after a traumatic experience in my life (see my post: Cherub) and it gave me a world to escape into, a chance to forget my pain and explore somebody else’s imagination. Except you never can escape your own demons - they colour everything around you - and mine went with me, hand in hand, to the farmstead of Lettie Hempstock at the end of the lane.
The emotions it evoked felt raw, and real. I finished the book with a sense of loss, acceptance, unease and wonder, feeling that some questions had been answered and others had been asked. But I hesitated to talk about it with others as I didn’t know how much the book was channeling my emotions and I wasn’t yet ready to share.
I’m stronger now and I’ve read it again. Same reaction. It turns out that all those emotions came from the book.
Read it.
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| Book of the Year 2013 in the British National Book Awards |
The story follows a narrator that has just attended the funeral of someone close to him. He goes for a drive and finds himself somewhere that he hasn’t been since childhood, at the end of the lane. His surroundings prompt memories to surface of a series of events that happened when he was seven years old; fantastical, magical, terrifying and poignant events.
The voice of the narrator doesn’t come across as an adult talking about his childhood. It is acknowledged through the lens of experience that certain things would be reacted to very differently by his adult self, but the reader is very much transported into the mind of his seven-year-old self and it is easy to recognise the innocence, the naiveté and the simple world view of this. Adults are absolute authorities in the beginning, and discovering that it is possible for them to let you down is a very harsh lesson. He also finds friendship and the strength to stand up for himself, for something he believes in - not easy when you’re seven.
The world being described is small, as is the world of any child, but it is rich and evocative of a child's eye view. The cast of characters is also small, but between the cruelty of Ursula Monkton and the matter-of-fact knowing of the Hempstock ladies, all bases are covered and the world is full.
The book touches on the idea that all of reality is a matter of perception. We can only work with what we can see, feel, touch and deduce. What is actual could be a whole lot stranger and who’s to say that we’d ever be able to categorise it in any way that is meaningful to us. Lettie Hempstock’s ocean is a portal to understanding. Or it could be a universe in itself. Or maybe it contains all the universes. I need a lie down.
Oh, and look out for Old Mrs Hempstock’s explanation of why a supposedly old coin really isn’t. It’s unexpected and brilliant and had me grinning from ear to ear.
I can say nothing else, as to do so would be to spoil any revelations you may get from this story. This is a book for adults, but it contains nothing that a child should not read; if you have a child with a ravenous appetite for books then this will, in my opinion, fill a Harry Potter shaped hole and I heartily recommend it.
Neil Gaiman is of that rare breed, along with Terry Pratchett, that sees the very same world that the rest of us see, but is able to take it, shape it, and present it back to us in a way that is fantastical, instantly recognisable and somehow more true. He revels in showing the reader the absurdity of life, along with the wonder and the horror that can simmer just below the surface. I urge you to check out his other work, such as American Gods or Anansi Boys, or to point your youngsters towards Coraline or The Graveyard Book, among others.
Keep exploring. Keep reading.
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