By Neil Gaiman
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Grown-ups don’t look like grown-ups on the inside either. Outside, they’re big and thoughtless and they always know what they’re doing. Inside, they look just like they always have. Like they did when they were your age. The truth is, there aren’t any grown-ups. Not one, in the whole wide world.
For fans of the fantasy/magical realism genre, this is a cherished masterpiece by Neil Gaiman. Sadly, I am not one. This is the second book by Neil Gaiman I read and it pretty much fell flat for me.
An unnamed English man returns to his childhood home in the English countryside of Sussex. There he is drawn to familiar sights. He remembers his childhood friend, Lettie and her family. All the reminiscing evokes memories of an incident long buried in his memory, of a worm he brings back from the woods.
I found it hard to connect to or be enticed by the fantasy world Gaiman created. The ending was very abrupt and left me all the more bewildered.
Book Broad 