All readers know that there’s something beautiful about a good story. Good stories communicate with something deep, dare I say mythic, in our souls. And “The Ocean at the End of the Lane” is a novel that taps into that deep well inside consciousness.
How the book does that seems deceptively simple: lovely prose, an enchanting story. But it’s actually something quite complicated. The book is suffused with a sense of the uncanny, the strange, that which invokes awe. But at the same time it is a story of childhood, of the monsters in the attic and the neighbors you knew less than you thought. It’s a family story, and it’s a myth.
All of these elements blend together to create something beautiful. The prose, the emotions, the characters: they touch something in the reader. They are moving. They are wondrous strange.