Just  finished The Ocean at the End of the Lane by Neil Gaiman.  I wish that I had read it all in one sitting, and I almost had, because once I had time to read, I could only put it down for dinner.  It reminds me of an archaic myth that I could only shudder to understand.  In a good way!  It made me think about love, in a very good, innocent way. 

This was a fine transition from the book that I had just finished, that I was grandly deciding was about sex and death, until finished, and then realized that it was so much more.  This was Lost in the Forest by Sue Miller.  It has really amazing characterization that makes the story entirely separate from self, while at the same time it resonates with all the confusion of growing up (that makes novel reading so much fun.)

Maybe both of these books touch upon the mystery of moving from innocence to experience, that I guess is not new to literature.  I want to read more from both authors, though will certainly take my time.  I think tomorrow that I'll check the shelves for Mr. Gaiman, though first of all moving back to nonfiction for a time.

Wow, I just realized how my recent selections sound so much like fairy tales, but I guess that's what interests me.  Maybe that's about all there is.  After the nonfiction, time for imagining space travel or something.