Book Report Monday: The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Title: The Ocean at the End of the Lane

Author: Neil Gaiman

Genre: Fantasy

Synopsis: Sussex, England. A middle-aged man returns to his childhood home to attend a funeral. Although the house he lived in is long gone, he is drawn to the farm at the end of the road, where, when he was seven, he encountered a most remarkable girl, Lettie Hempstock, and her mother and grandmother. He hasn't thought of Lettie in decades, and yet as he sits by the pond (a pond that she'd claimed was an ocean) behind the ramshackle old farmhouse, the unremembered past comes flooding back. And it is a past too strange, too frightening, too dangerous to have happened to anyone, let alone a small boy.

Forty years earlier, a man committed suicide in a stolen car at this farm at the end of the road. Like a fuse on a firework, his death lit a touchpaper and resonated in unimaginable ways. The darkness was unleashed, something scary and thoroughly incomprehensible to a little boy. And Lettie—magical, comforting, wise beyond her years—promised to protect him, no matter what.

(from Goodreads)

Why did I pick it up?:  If you don't know that I heart Neil Gaiman, well now you know.

Doesn't the cover remind you of Imaginary Girls? 

Favorite Line: "Books are safer than other people anyway."

I'm sure there were other gems but I only made note of that one.

My Review: Gaiman delivers another fantastic adventure. My only complaint is that it was so short. It wasn't too short though. The story was complete and I didn't need more, but I wanted more. I wanted to know more about Lettie and her mysterious past. Along with her mother and grandmother, Lettie Hempstock knows about the magical world and the creatures that sneak across the border separating it from our world. Lettie is far wiser and tougher than her physical appearance would lead people to believe. She protects the young protagonist who is pulled into the dark happenings when a dead man is found in his family's car. As a 7-year old boy, he looks up to Lettie who is older than he is and who has such a no-nonsense way of explaining the magical that can't help but be believed.

Childhood memories often seem surreal to us as adults. Partially do to the fact that we didn't fully understand what was happening at the time. However, time also has a way of erasing some events and highlighting others in our memories. I've confused realities of childhood with dreams I had as a child. What do you mean there was never a tornado at the playground?!

I've had arguments with my sisters over which one of us slammed their hand in the station wagon door or left a hot dog to burn on the stove. Each of us swearing we had done it as if time had fossilized the painful, embarrassing moment into a prized artifact we'd all like to claim. This book will leave you wondering what events you've excavated poorly or perhaps buried altogether.

My Recommendation: Perfect for any fantasy or magical realism fan. I personally think this would be a fabulous rainy day and pot of tea book.

For Next Time: Gold by Chris Cleave

Book Report Monday: The Paris Wife

Title: The Paris Wife

Author: Paula McLain

Genre: Fiction


Synopsis: A deeply evocative story of ambition and betrayal, The Paris Wife captures a remarkable period of time and a love affair between two unforgettable people: Ernest Hemingway and his wife Hadley.

Chicago, 1920: Hadley Richardson is a quiet twenty-eight-year-old who has all but given up on love and happiness—until she meets Ernest Hemingway and her life changes forever. Following a whirlwind courtship and wedding, the pair set sail for Paris, where they become the golden couple in a lively and volatile group—the fabled “Lost Generation”—that includes Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound, and F. Scott and Zelda Fitzgerald.

Though deeply in love, the Hemingways are ill-prepared for the hard-drinking and fast-living life of Jazz Age Paris, which hardly values traditional notions of family and monogamy. Surrounded by beautiful women and competing egos, Ernest struggles to find the voice that will earn him a place in history, pouring all the richness and intensity of his life with Hadley and their circle of friends into the novel that will become The Sun Also Rises. Hadley, meanwhile, strives to hold on to her sense of self as the demands of life with Ernest grow costly and her roles as wife, friend, and muse become more challenging. Despite their extraordinary bond, they eventually find themselves facing the ultimate crisis of their marriage—a deception that will lead to the unraveling of everything they’ve fought so hard for.

(from Goodreads)

Why did I pick it up?: I love Hemingway. I loved A Moveable Feast. I even loved Midnight in Paris.

Favorite Line: "When I saw the rats the first time, I wanted to drop my basket where it was and run away, but we weren't rich enough for symbolic gestures. So I walked."

My Review: Hadley is a straight forward narrator, though at times she felt like a cardboard cut out delivering information, rather than a woman falling in love with a troubled young man on the brink of literary success. I feared that Hadley was a means to frame a well-researched Hemingway biography and call it a novel but maybe that is because as a writer and a Hemingway fan I found it hard to connect with her as a narrator.

I understood her desire to be with her husband and I pitied her loneliness when he was gone on assignment or lost in a world full of sentences. But I could not empathize with her. It takes a certain kind of person to be with a writer and Hadley wasn't made for it. She won't be happy being with someone who's talent intimidates her, she can't share her husband with his work. She's not happy being independent and I think that writers need supportive partners who can occupy themselves without feeling envious or jilted while the writer writes.

Though having her as a narrator stopped me from loving the novel, I still enjoyed it. There were many parts that expanded on A Moveable Feast and I loved them. As a whole the novel felt true, which Hemingway would have liked. McLain manages to write many beautiful and honest sentences, such as the one with the rats. And that is what really saved it for me. I would definitely read other books by McLain.


Recommendation: Good for anyone interested in Hemingway or Paris in the 20's.

Next Week: The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

On My Writing Playlist: The Flys

Yet another one from the 90's on my playlist, "Got you where I want you" was a hit in 1998 from The Flys. I don't know any of their other songs but like a lot of music from my teen years this transports me back to high school and puts me in the proper mindset to write my young adult characters.

The lyrics are sweet but there is, in my opinion, something kind of creepy about his determination considering he doesn't even know her name.

Love at first sight is cute and romantic, but when it's one-sided it can come off like obsessive stalking. The lyrics are set to a slower, haunting rhythm which adds to the feeling that this is an unrequited crush. It leaves me questioning if the girl being admired even knows he exists.

Fun Friday with Freshman Frappuccino Flashbacks



Who's name is on the cup? Not yours, Mr. Spock. Not yours.


Happy Friday gang!

I decided to celebrate the best day of the work week with my favorite hot coffee concotion from Starbucks. Though technically, I went to the Barnes & Noble Cafe since it's right next to my office.

My overly elaborate drink order is a triple grande soy caramel macchiato.

For clarification that's three shots of espresso with steamed soy milk and caramel topping.

It's great. It's not too sweet because of the extra shot and it's not as guilt-laden because the soy milk cuts out most of the saturated fat and cholesterol. While I was waiting to order, I glanced at the menu like I always do. Even though, I rarely switch it up. Why mess with perfection? I noted all the frappuccino choices and I flashed back to college, where Starbucks and their bottled fraps were pivotal to many happy mornings.



My three favorite flavors



Freshman year I'd pop open a cold, bottled blend of coffee, milk and sugar, sugar, sugar from the mini fridge and jug it in three or four gulps. Usually I'd do this without even getting out of bed, such was the convenience of dorm-room living. My roommate must have thought I was crazy. It was 2003 and she was already talking about eating organic. She was way ahead of the curve on that one. I just wondered, "Isn't all food organic, like by definition?"

Oh and my breakfast to go with the chugged frappuccino was typically a hunk of Hershey's milk chocolate. If it wasn't so cold here this morning I may have actually changed my order.

Of course, there are things I don't wish to repeat from my college years, like all nighters working on proofs of mathematical equations only to walk in to class frazzled but convinced my three pages of math logic were correct and see that "that guy" summed it all up using six words. I mean, seriously, how did he know to do that? No, I definitely don't want a college do-over but those lazy, sweet mornings are worth recreating from time to time.