Fathomfolk has a lot of promise, but I think it could have been much, much better than it ended up being. The prose is simplistic and the phrasing is often a little awkward, particularly when it comes to dialogue, and I’m far from the first early reader to point out that most of the characters are extremely one-dimensional. I had a lot of sympathy for Mira, the half-siren recently promoted to captain of the border guard, but I also found her lack of political skills frustrating; surely she had to know that if she wanted to change things, she was going to have to play ball with the city’s elite? And it’s one thing to be no good at politicking; it’s another to be unable to control your temper and be polite when you’re dealing with people much more powerful than you. I liked her as a person, but as a character, not so much.
The others aren’t better. Nami, the water dragon, is incredibly immature – how old is she supposed to be? Because she reads as 15 or 16, all hormones and acting on impulse and never thinking things through, to the point of stupidity. Cordelia, our sea witch, was almost interesting, but I disliked how we were told her goals and motives as she manipulated people, rather than getting to watch her play puppet-master and gradually see her plans come to fruition.
At first glance, I thought the worldbuilding was wonderful, but the more we saw of it, the less sense it made to me, and I think the way Chan went about giving us the information was clumsily done. My biggest issue is, why does underwater life mimic land life so much? The Folk use their magic, called waterweaving, to protect their food in little air-pockets so it’s not ruined by the water; they use it to hold things to counters so they don’t float away; they use it to allow themselves to walk along the sea-floor. But…why would underwater life look like that? Shouldn’t it be completely different to how humans live on land? It feels incredibly lazy, like the author went looking for a way to justify/allow her underwater people to live like humans, rather than sitting down and actually thinking about how non-humans who’ve never seen dry land would live. Seriously: why are they walking on the ground? They can all swim!
Other worldbuilding questions: why are the city guard called the kumiho? Kumiho are like kitsune – fox spirits – but from Korea; do they exist in Chan’s world, or are they just stories? Why does a city that reviles the Folk have a place named Glashtyn Square (glashtyn being a kind of horse water-beastie from Manx folklore)? If dragon pearls are functionally dragon eggs, why on earth would the dragons allow humans to keep a stolen one and turn it into a symbol of land and water people getting along?! That’s a baby! How is that not obscene? But Nami’s whole storyline kicks off when she tries to steal it back and gets in an enormous amount of trouble for it – not in trouble with the humans, but the Folk, including her mother, whose pearl/egg/child it is! Wtf?
Also, I get that ‘drawback’ is a term related to tsunamis…but if you call your extremist group the Drawbacks, I promise you, that’s not what most readers are going to hear. It only makes your rebels sound like complete and utter idiots.
I loved how many different water beings from different mythologies I saw – mostly Asian, but not all – but I have no idea how to picture any of them in Chan’s world; they’re not described visually, and there’s no explanation of what a selkie, kappa, or kelpie is. If you don’t know, Chan’s not going to tell you; and even if you know the mythology – which in most cases I did – there’s no guarantee that what I’m picturing is what Chan wants me to picture. That was baffling and annoying in equal measure.
There’s a fair amount of telling-not-showing – which was so disappointing with such a gorgeous and diverse setting, where I wanted to see everything! – but the dealbreaker for me was how often important moments kept happening off-page, for us to be told about them later. For example, early in the book, Mira has a pretty major fight with her boyfriend – but we have no idea until she recaps it for us in her thoughts in a later chapter. That was a scene that should have been on the page, and I have no idea why it wasn’t.
To me, Fathomfolk feels unfinished, an early draft with the potential to be something incredible, but that just isn’t there yet. The characters need more fleshing out; the underwater worldbuilding needs to be completely rethought from the seafloor up; and the prose needs at least one more round of polishing to make it flow – pun fully intended – better. As it is, I had no interest in finishing it, and I doubt I’ll be coming back for another try later.