The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman
My rating: 5 of 5 stars
I lack the words to appropriately describe this book. Gaiman is amazing, as always. He grabs you, drags you down into the waters of his imagination, and whispers to you, sounds like the waves lapping on the shore, and refuses to let go until the last word is spoken. Then he releases you, leaving you to bob up to the surface, both relieved and saddened that you have to leave.
Melodramatic? Maybe. But appropriate, I think. From our narrator first explaining about Fluffy the kitten to his final moments on the shore of the eponymous ocean, I couldn’t stop. Nothing else mattered. The book owned me, sunk its fingers into me and made me its puppet, leaving me wrung out, emotionally exhausted and completely satisfied when I finished the last page.
I’ll put it plain: You need to read this book. No excuses. You can find it fairly inexpensive nearly anywhere, it’s only 180 pages so can – and must! – be devoured in a single sitting, and contains only vague references to sex and violence, with no naughty words, so it’s appropriately clean for any audience.
Go read it. Now.
Insomniac Nightmares 
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