I listened to the first two-thirds of this book while on a long drive, late at night, during a rainstorm. My little black-and-white cat was in her carrier in the passenger seat next to me. If there was ever a perfect environment in which to hear this book, that was it.
I can't give enough praise to Neil Gaiman for his performance here. In my opinion, the only person qualified to narrate Mr. Gaiman's books is himself. It's only fitting here, in any case, because I know the main character (unnamed) is sort-of semi-autobiographical.
Which brings me to my next point: regardless of the fact that the main character is a 7-year-old boy and I am a 29-year-old woman, I see so much of him in me. I was that kid who liked books more than people, believed adults to be both mysterious and all-powerful, and held faith that the world was full of magic and terror in equal proportions. Deep inside, I think I still am that kid, and that is what resonated with me most. We are all terrified 7-year-olds on the inside, hoping that someone is watching out for us because we really don't have as much control as we pretend to.
I cried during the epilogue. I couldn't help it. I was driving again, in the sun this time, on my way back home. There is one final realization the narrator makes at the end that both broke my heart and filled me with joy. I don't want to give away spoilers, but I hope that you'll know it when you hear it.
Please, please read this book. Or listen to it. Or better yet, do both. It's been a long time since I've felt this strongly about any book, but this is a masterpiece. You'll thank yourself at the end.
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