Natalie's Reviews > The Ocean at the End of the Lane

I'm beginning to think Magical Realism isn't my thing. While I really enjoyed Gaiman's other works Coraline and Stardust, this one just didn't do anything for me. I have several theories why.
I couldn't decide whether this book is metaphorical or literal. And I know that's what Gaiman wanted. And I really don't like that. We don't know whether all the magical inter-dimensional things happened, or the unnamed narrator made it up to deal with his abuse, negligence, the suicide, the death of his kitten, the bullying and his father's affair. Do all the Hemstocks exist? At least one does, we know that for sure. If this book is strictly metaphorical, it's awfully pretentious, and it makes me like it even less. I feel like I should be reading this in high school Lit class and listing out the symbolism of the bucket, the ocean, and the canvas that was Ursula. I think more of the question is, why does this book exist? What was Gaiman trying to say? I don't care for a book where I have to figure things out for myself. If I wanted to do that, I'd write my own story.
The very fact that the main character goes unnamed grinds my gears even more. We're supposed to see ourselves in his seven year old self, I suppose. Not a fan of that. Give me solid character with a name that stands on his own that I don't have to wear like a mask. This isn't a self help book, and I shouldn't have to decipher what color my parachute is.
Now, the positives. It was wonderfully original- and in a world of re-makes and sequels, that's an awesome thing to see, and I must give him kudos for that. Also, making women the heroines of the story. The third is his writing style. Regardless of the story confusing me, the writing had a way of keeping me going when I honestly wanted to stop. The briefness of the novel also encouraged me to keep going, as I knew it had to end shortly and it wouldn't keep going.
All in all, just a weird story that I couldn't get into or figure out the point of. I could sit and hash out what everything meant, and how it compared to my own life... but this isn't a psychology or Lit class, and I just don't care enough to do that. This will be my last Gaiman for awhile, if ever.