Once I started this book, I wanted to read it all in one gulp. Unfortunately, I started reading it too late in the evening, so I had to read it in two gulps. How could I not love a book that knows that kittens grow in a field and name themselves, and that the ocean can fit into a bucket (like in a story by my four-year-old son) and that no adult truly grows up? I've believed these truths for years.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane is a beautiful, sad, sweet, strange tale that somehow feels more real than mundane reality -- which is to say, it was imagined, conceived and written by Neil Gaiman. When I reached the end of the story, I was breathless and wanted more.