It was a funeral that drew him across the pond and back to England. Time on his hands – and perhaps the expectation of nostalgia – led him deeper into Sussex, to the property where his childhood home had once stood. He couldn’t say what it was that drew him further down the lane and deeper into reverie. A few minutes more and he had arrived: the Hempstock Farm at the end of the lane. Whispers of memory kicked up like fog as he left the lane walking toward the farmhouse…he had known someone here, a girl named Lettie he thought. She had been his friend Lettie, who had called a duck pond an ocean and whose family had once been like his own for a time.
In The Ocean at the End of the Lane, master wordsmith Neil Gaiman beguiles his readers with a new and haunting story - his first for adults since Anansi Boys. In a tale that treads the line between memoir and magical realism, Gaiman invites the reader to join an unnamed middle-aged divorcee as he sits along the bank of an ordinary pond in once-rural England. As he sits, the memory of a simultaneously terrifying and enchanting event in his childhood emerges. The memories of dangerous magic in improbable settings, of his own childhood helplessness, of his faith in Lettie and the Hempstocks, come roiling back to the surface with unexpected force and consequence.
This is a story that will engulf both the man and the reader alike, leaving each a little refreshed and a little bewildered at its conclusion. It is a story about true self. It is a tale of sacrifice, and above all it is a tribute to memories, those which haunt us and those which have the power to bring us home again, if only for a little while.