I can't believe how much depth there is in this short book, which is probably a genius Inception-level message unto itself. 
 There were even more genres going on than I was anticipating. Which brings me to my minor complaint: I simply was not anticipating that a good half-or-more of this book is horror. And so much of what I loved about this book was outside of the horror. I felt it was getting in the way of this charming book with its beautiful messages. 
 Then again, what do I know? It's probably another genius and essential piece of the story. But personally I think a lot of the tension, and the suspenseful climax and its conclusion, could have been done by at least greatly shortening the duration of the horror elements. 
 The horror was very well done. It is so cliche and even unfair to bring comparisons to Stephen King, but I can only feel that the horror aspect is an homage to King. I've read a few of Gaiman's other works, and he is a master of the creepy and eerie in his own right, but something about our protagonist and his struggles reminded me so much of Danny Torrence and Abra Stone, and also some of King's menacing creatures and entities from a number of his works. 
 Okay, aside from the (brilliantly done) horror, this novella is just fantastic stuff. It is often--if not too often--melancholy, depressing, and somber, but usually in the most insightful of ways. And then every so often there are these pearls of uplifting beauty, or a perfectly captured and charming moment exclusive to childhood. A sizable portion of the book also has, as to be expected with Gaiman, wonderfully woven myths juxtaposed with our reality. Best of all are moments where the myth rubs right up against legitimate, beautifully prosed philosophy. 
 At less than 200 pages, you really can't afford to NOT read this book...provided you don't mind (or in fact greatly enjoy!) King-styled horror. 
 Just wanted to include two quotes that I found quite striking: 
 (view spoiler)[ "I have understood what she was saying, in my dreams. In those dreams I spoke that language too, the first language, and I had dominion over the nature of all that was real. It was the tongue of what is, and anything spoken in it becomes real, because nothing said in that language can be a lie. It is the most basic building brick of everything. 
 "In my dreams I have used that language to heal the sick and to fly; once I dreamed I kept a perfect little bed-and-breakfast by the seaside, and to everyone who came to stay with me I would say, in that tongue, "Be whole," and they would become whole, not be broken people, not any longer, because I had spoken the language of shaping." (hide spoiler)] 
 (view spoiler)[ "Do you still know everything, all the time?" 
 She shook her head. She didn't smile. She said, "Be boring, knowing everything. You have to give all that stuff up if you're going to muck about here." 
 "So you used to know everything?" 
 She wrinkled her nose. "Everybody did. I told you. It's nothing special, knowing how things work. And you really do have to give it all up if you want to play." 
 "To play what?" 
 "This," she said. She waved at the house and the sky and the impossible full moon and the skeins and shawls and clusters of bright stars. (hide spoiler)]