Last Thursday I was walking down Regent Street, when, to my surprise, I saw a sign in the window of the Apple Store saying Neil Gaiman would be conversing about his upcoming new novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane, in about an hour’s time. With Neil Gaiman being one of my favorite wordsmiths and my feet being in a desperate need for a bit of rest, I walked in to see if there would be a seat left, figuring there wouldn’t be, because, well, it’s Neil freaking Gaiman, in London. Who would want to miss that? But, lo and behold, there were seats available, so I sat down, read my book for a bit, and then watched Neil Gaiman talking about and reading a bit from his upcoming new novel, The Ocean at the End of the Lane. It was a neat little event. The guy’s smart and funny and writes amazingly clever stuff. I can’t wait for The Ocean to arrive and sit down with it and read it.
Coincidently, as I write this, an email notice pops up saying it’s been shipped.
Why I’m writing all this is to provide some context. I’ve just finished reading what Amanda Palmer, who is mr. Gaiman’s wife, wrote about the why and how of The Ocean at the End of the Lane. Apart from making me all gooey and going “ahhh” and stuff, it contained this one line that I totally need to share and archive for posterity, because, well, don’t we just all want someone who says that to you?