Is the figure swimming away from or towards the observer’s point of view? This question alone lends to the clandestine otherworldliness of Neil Gaiman’s The Ocean at the End of the Lane. As the viewer is looking upwards, a sensation of drowning may be strongly felt, which could be intentional on Gaiman’s part.
Around the nearly perfect circular edge framing the figure, the surface feeding birds are hunting from a discernable distance. But it is peculiar that they have no qualms about colliding into one another, they simply need to be away from the figure. Again, what is unique or special about this central character?
The lower half of the front cover looks as if to be space, with stars shining brightly at different intensities and scarred with ethereal mist-like shapes. Perhaps the clashes of astronomy and oceanic expanses (note the ripples where they meet) features within The Ocean at the End of the Lane.
What most stands out in the title text is that the nouns are significantly larger in font than the non-nouns, almost as if Gaiman is handing the keywords to you to unlock the rest of the book.
The Ocean at the End of the Lane‘s front cover is a fine example of literal visual storytelling.