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The Houses of History: A Critical Reader in Twentieth-Century History and Theory
The Complete Calvin and Hobbes
Bill Watterson
The Ocean at the End of the Lane: A Novel - Neil Gaiman It baffles me how anyone can imagine and tell a story such as this one. Well, its vision might not be that revolutionary (considering that I'm still swept away by emotions), but still it is a definitely breathtaking creation. It is so very beautiful, so dreamlike, so magical.

Even after calming down a bit, I am still confident that The Ocean should stay in my precious like-alot shelf. I would not say the book would work its magic equally well for everyone (or my Goodread friends here), but for me, a fan of (see my profile): Children's books, Fairy Tales, Fantasy, Literary - this book has everything. So if you happen to be in the mood for such genres, or happen to share my taste, then I definitely recommend this book.

The Ocean is about a little boy who stumbles upon magical forces and experiences a scary, horror, and at the same time heartfelt and wonderfully enchanting time with another little girl named Lettie, her family, and her realms. No, maybe it is a story about an adult who comes back again and again to his, not lost, but well hidden, well shielded, well protected childhood memory. But it is probably not even a memory, since for me, it has such an eternal, timeless quality. It is beyond time and beyond space.

But in essence, perhaps this book is about dreams, escapades, about growing up, or rather better - not-growing up, about this so-called real world and many possible other worlds out there. Far and few between, I feel like Gaiman is pouring his heart into the voice of this little boy.

Some may question why this 7 year old boy is so too perfect, why his friends are so unbelievably marvellous and kind, why everything seems too beautiful to be true, why even the sadness and loss is so calm, so pretty and so gentle. Hah, you run into that trap. Why does it have to be not so? Why does it have to be "real" and "grown-up"? Why do we have to graduate from childhood, from fantasy, to face the real world's harshness? Why the hell should we?

No, let it be. Let it be a dream. Let it be.