What do you think?
Rate this book


322 pages, Hardcover
First published February 4, 2014
The Grey Man is here, my thoughts sang.This was a really strange book. I liked it, but I'm left scratching my head because I'm not sure how to describe it. I wouldn't say it is a story about the paranormal as much as a story about the psychological aftermaths of grief combined with a paranormal subplot. It had some elements of Beauty and the Beast. I wouldn't say that it is a retelling, but it has a few characteristics of it, namely:
The haze sharpened—it gathered. Like milk swirling into coffee, curves formed. Shades and shapes and angles, they became: black eyes, silver hair. A thin mouth, a sharp chin. A hand reached out to take mine.
“I thought you would never come,” he said.
It was my fault Levi was dead.Willa killed her brother. She didn't exactly pick up a gun and shoot him, but she feels responsible for his death. A man sabotaged her family's lobster traps. Willa isn't the type of girl who would sit still and take it. She wanted revenge, she took her little brother along with her. As a result, her brother is dead---murdered, her parents suffer in silent grief. Willa hardly knows what to do with herself. Her best friend is going away to college, her relationship is faltering. She feels that she has no future.
Not in some roundabout, butterflies-in-Africa-starting-hurricanes-in-Maine kind of way.
I didn’t know how to be without them. When I looked up, all I saw was the nothing coming. The future where Seth drove around with other girls and Bailey went off to college and never came home.Willa needs some luck in her life, badly. As a joke, her friend tells her to go ask the Grey Man.
That same future with an empty place at the dinner table, and half as many Christmas presents under the tree. The one where I stood on land and watched the tide go out without me.
“Ask the Grey Man. It can’t hurt.”The Grey Man is a folk legend. In a fishing town, there's a lot of them. But the locals know that superstitions aren't always true.
A ghost, or a revenant, maybe a cursed sailor or faery—who, or what, the Grey Man was was up for debate. People couldn’t even agree that it was a man. Some of the old-timers insisted it was a Grey Lady.
I’ve been a good steward for this town; better than most. I’ve been honorable. They’ve had a hundred years of my generosity, holding back the fog. So many good days for them. So many clear days. I’ve been patient. In all this time, I could have blinded hundreds of fishermen. Led them astray, helped their pretty little boats crash into rocks, hidden coming storms.But he has the capacity for cruelty.
Those lights on the beach have no idea I’m watching them. Wanting them. Plotting against them. Ignorant, every one of them—they dance; they sway. They’re just far enough away that I can’t enjoy their music or eavesdrop on their conversations.Willa and Grey meet. He wants his curse broken, he has a hidden initiative. Willa, however, is no shrinking violet. She is smart, she is wary of monsters, even those with beautiful faces.
Right now, I hate them more than anything.
Genies took your wishes the worst kind of literal. Faeries were monsters; I needed a piece of iron. I needed to get myself together.Grey needs to break the curse. Will Willa be the key to freeing him?
Broken Tooth didn’t have much. We were all starving a little bit, shrinking every year. Bailey wouldn’t come back. A degree in political science wouldn’t do her any good around here. The bright ones like her, they went off to the world. To New York Cities and LAs and Londons. None of the Baileys came back.The town have deep superstitions, as most seaward towns have. They are entrenched in tradition, but the present is only too real.
Old rituals we kept to guarantee the impossible: all good weather, no bad days.The people of the town stick together. They protect their own. They know when they're being cheated. Small rumors spread like wildfire, they are fiercely protective of one another. It is a small town, but they are a collective.
But in our bones, we knew it was blizzards and nor’easters and squall lines that sank ships. Draggers and trawlers and people from away stealing our catches and leaving nothing for our pots. Government dopes making us trade float line for sink line, twice as expensive, lost twice as much.
The mortgage was just about due; the utilities, too. We’d never discussed the bills, and definitely not me paying them. There was slack, and I’d picked it up. It’s what we did; it was my house too.She does the dirty work. She goes out in the morning, raking up bloodworms to sell for 25 cents apiece so she can help with the bills. Willa is such a sympathetic character, and I felt an incredible amount of compassion for her. She is so desolate because of her guilt and her loneliness, but she never wallows in her depression. There is no Bella Swan comatose shittery here.Even the Grey Man recognizes her strength.
She’s no delicate thing in a wispy gown. She wears breeches and boots and doesn’t trail behind meThe Grey Man:
A curse is a curse—the trappings are beautiful. They have to be, to tempt the eye, to sway the heart. The gilt packages, the plates that fill with any delicacy I like, they’re the sugar in the poison. The way I look—the way Susannah looked—ethereal monsters. I’m a devil with an angel’s smile.A complex, interesting man...creature...thing. He is filled with anger and bitterness for his fate. Let's face it, you would be, too, if you had been cursed to live in a lighthouse for all this time. He sits there in his lighthouse, observing the living, seething with silent fury at his fate. Planning. Always planning.
It’s within my grasp to toy with her. Torment her as she has tormented me. To hold out hope before her, just to snatch it away. I burn to do it; she’d deserve it. Instead, I cradle her face with my hand—I can be tender. I can be gentle.His narrative is sometimes confusing, but always poetic and beautiful.
“I’m not stupid. Three thousand miles apart is too much.”There is a lesbian best friend who is portrayed without any stereotype whatsoever. There is a sympathetic boyfriend who makes mistakes, but is not a bad guy. There is a girl who is a jerk, but she is, too, a human being. Not perfect, not a demon in whore heels...just...human.
“That’s a year and a half away, though.”
“It’s an expiration date.”
Uselessly hopeful, I said, “Maybe she won’t get in.”
Bailey paid that about as much attention as it deserved: none. Waving her hand, she said, “I can’t...It’s like saying, okay, I’ll love you for exactly this long, but then it stops.”
She looked thoughtful. Or sorry. Something sympathetic, and it dragged a cold touch along the nape of my neck. That wasn’t the face of the girl who’d spat at my feet or gone riding with my boyfriend.The characters in this book were just wonderfully written.


