For those of you who have read my “Impressions” about Neil Gaiman’s Ocean at the End of the Lane, it may not come as a surprise that my first entry here is about this author. For those of you who have not read it, let me just say this – Neil Gaiman’s wild and strange imagination is a thing of wonder, to me. It can never be truly described, it just has to be experienced.
The second I read the first line of one of his books, I get this feeling like I’ve been pushed into a dark and stormy world (no matter how mundane a scene he makes it out to be – even the mundane leaves me awestruck). And despite being dark and stormy, his world is one that doesn’t overwhelm. And this is exactly how I love a dark and stormy book to be.
Despite his imagination (and his translation of it into words) being so powerful, it doesn’t impose. It’s just a grey world in which I can be. I can take my time and savour every aspect of it, without wanting to bolt out of it or just skim through the pages and finish the book. It’s just the way I love a grey world in a book. Because, this lets me take my time and meet every character and get to know them without hurrying. I admire authors who give me this kind of time and freedom.