Myths

I've seen sprinkles of Neil Gaiman's work in television and movies. I've tried watching Coraline several times (not really a fan). I devoured season one of American Gods over the summer. He even has roots in the show Lucifer, which is something I put on from time to time. 

But before this week I'd never read one of his books.

 

For this week I read The Ocean at the End of the Lane. It's always been a title that's appealed to me. 

I'm not sure what I was expecting, but this book wasn't it.  It's an adult novel told through a child's perspective for most of it. The events that happen are all extremely dark and something that reading as an adult we instantly understand, but through the eyes of a kid struggling to comprehend it all. The monster, his evil nanny, is terrifying and disgusting. She feels like the sort of thing a kid would nightmare up--the monster under the bed--and the frustration we feel when he tries to tell everyone and is constantly dismissed is worrisome. How many childish stories like that have we brushed off? Maybe we should listen to kids more. 

The circular ending makes me want to go back and read it again instantly. There are so many connections I make at the end that I have to see what else I've missed. The kid (I read this entire novel and am just realizing now that we never even learn his name) has this instinctual need to normalize everything. He pulls a worm out of his foot and simply puts a band-aid over the hole.

When things start to get really scary (almost being drowned and floating women scary)  it feels simultaneously like everything was leading to this and of course she's actually this evil flying thing, while also it's shocking because the urban dreamlike state of it all keeps us waiting for the punchline. For him to wake up and realize it was just his imagination.

A lot of this book reminded me of his other works. The Hempstocks, being triple goddess aspect who've come to the new country and have adapted their magic to modern ways feels like something out of American Gods. Ursula feels like the mom from Coraline. In comparison, the narrator's ordinary-ness is striking. It makes us feel that much closer to him, and that much more afraid for him, because although we try to forget it (by reading books and watching movies), we are also extremely normal. We're no more of a match for celestial "fleas" than the narrator is.

I also can't think of any character I've been more upset with than I was with The Opal Miner. That poor kitten.