today, I finished reading The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman, and man, this book had me hooked. I was coming off more technical and dense reads like Ultralearning by Scott Young. They were interesting reads, but they didn't give me pleasure while reading; I was reading for pure knowledge, not for the joy of it.
I decided to pick up some good old fantasy literature. Found a deal on the Kindle edition. bought it expecting a good distraction and escape from reality – and that's exactly what I got.
TLDR;
I won't do a full book review here, if that's what you're expecting; I'll talk more about the reading experience itself.
it's incredible how Gaiman has the power to create a movie in our heads, even without giving too many details about the story. in this book, he doesn't explain much; things just happen, and it's up to us to theorize and try to understand on our own.
it's a quick and easy read, and that's exactly what hooks you. it makes you believe there will be an explanation and leaves you wanting more.
I found the mystique similar to American Gods; it feels like it happens in the same universe. there are ancient gods and fantastic creatures as old as creation itself.
Beyond the fantasy, I found interesting parallels with real life - about growing up, death, and how we tend to forget the magic of life when adulthood arrives.
`` Some highlights from the book
As we age, we become like our parents; live long enough and you'll see faces repeat themselves over time.
I liked that. Books were more reliable than people, anyway.
That's the problem with living things. They don't last very long. Kittens one day, old cats the next. And then there are just memories. And memories fade and get confused, become blurred...
Adults are content to walk the same way hundreds of times, or thousands; perhaps it never occurs to them to step off the paths, to creep beneath the rhododendrons, to find the gaps between the fences.
Nobody actually looks on the outside how they really are on the inside. Not you. Not me. People are much more complicated than that. It's true of everybody.
Adults don't look like adults on the inside either. Outside, they're big and thoughtless and they always know what they're doing. Inside, they look just like they always used to. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there are no grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.
So you used to know everything? She wrinkled her nose. "Everybody did. Like I said. It's nothing special, knowing how things work. And you really have to leave it all behind if you want to play." "Play what?" "This," said Lettie. She gestured, indicating the house, the sky, the impossible full moon, and the swirling skeins and shawls and clusters of glittering stars.
I do not miss childhood, but I miss the way I took pleasure in small things, even as greater things crumbled. I could not control the world I was in, could not walk away from things or people or moments that hurt, but I took pleasure in the things that made me happy.
Nothing's ever the same," she said. "Be it a second later or a hundred years. It's always churning and roiling. And people change as much as oceans.