Дом в лазурном море

Cerulean Chronicles #1

by T.J. Klune, Ти Джей Клун, Лиана Шаутидзе (translator)

Линус Бейкер живет четко по расписанию: утром – работа инспектора в Департаменте по делам магической молодежи, вечером – уютные посиделки дома с кошкой и старыми пластинками. Линус не собирается ничего менять в своей жизни, пока в один прекрасный день не получает от Чрезвычайно Высокого Руководства серьезное задание…

Инспектору предстоит отправиться в сиротский приют на таинственном острове Марсий, где проживают шесть необычных детей – сын Люцифера, неопознанное зеленое существо, девочка-гном, виверна, мальчик-оборотень и лесной спрайт. Но они не единственный секрет острова. Управляет приютом загадочный Артур Парнас, он искренне любит своих воспитанников и определенно не так прост, как кажется.

Директор готов на все, чтобы уберечь детей от опасностей взрослого мира, даже если этом миру придется сгореть дотла.

Genres: Fantasy, Fiction, LGBT, Romance, Audiobook, Book Club, Queer

352 pages, Hardcover

First published March 16, 2020

About the author

TJ KLUNE is a Lambda Literary Award-winning author (Into This River I Drown) and an ex-claims examiner for an insurance company. His novels include The House in the Cerulean Sea and The Extraordinaries. Being queer himself, TJ believes it's important—now more than ever—to have accurate, positive, queer representation in stories.

Reviews

[chai ♡ · Rating 5 out of 5]

I think these days more than ever, with a pandemic ravaging every corner of the world, I understand more keenly how absolutely necessary it is to find the escape hatch in reality, to seek out a pleasant corner and while away the hours inside a story. And there is no better one I can think of than this one.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is a nonstop pleasure. It flooded every corner of my mind with delight and warmth and made me feel reassured and nourished in channels of my heart which had stood scraped dry for weeks. It’s a feeling I wish I could put in a bottle to carry it with me through the dark.

The novel's premise is as simple as it is ripe with comedic potential. Caseworker Linus Baker of the Department in Charge of Magical Youths (DICOMY) has the distinct appearance of someone with a stick up his ass. His job is like a millstone, all weight and no warmth: investigate orphanages that house magical children, write a report that encourages either the continuation or discontinuation of these establishments, and justify it all within the uncompromising parameters of fairness. See, Linus Baker walks through life like a wound-up clock ticking dutifully through the seconds: he has a routine, rules that he follows with a stony rigidity, and a comfort zone that he’s sealed himself inside of. But when Linus is assigned to investigate an island orphanage for magical children deemed especially dangerous, his world unlocks.

There is something vital and wondrous about Arthur and the magical children that came to him with tragedies already packed in their suitcases, and Linus Baker is more or less the human opposite of vitality and wonder. During his stay in the house in the Cerulean sea, Linus becomes acutely, achingly aware of the empty place at his center, and starts wondering at the grim march of the life he’d lived before. At the beliefs he’d held close to his chest, and the rules he’d dutifully obeyed but never looked directly in the eyes. At the life that once seemed so perfectly fine, but which now pinches like tight shoes.

**
TJ Klune wears his heart on his sleeve, and The House in the Cerulean Sea is that much better for it. The novel is lively, exquisitely crafted and wildly propulsive. It brims and bubbles with quirkiness and playful detail, and the dialogue positively fizzes.

But it’s the cast of tenderly realized characters that carries the day.

There is something undeniably unconditional about the relationships here, and it stirred my heart. Klune’s cast of characters is achingly compelling. Arthur’s lightness of heart is infectious: he is a study in kindness, made of such a steadfast and dependable fiber, despite the sadness that haunts his eyes. His magical children are every inch as erratic and colorful as Linus is restrained and monochromatic, and together they made something like the word “family”, disappearing into one another like partly shuffled cards, and rubbing their rough edges smooth against each other. I can’t tell you how much I relish stories that don’t believe that blood makes a family, but that kin is the circle you create, hands held tight. Linus, Arthur and the kids could not have been more different, but they all formed the same desperate plea in their minds: to be seen, to be loved, to reach and to be reached for. And as they all moved, tremulously, one step along the road between unknown and familiar, I found myself full of wishes for them—for that house in the Cerulean sea, away from the gaze of malice and a happily-ever-after.

But as entertaining and unrelentingly fun The House in the Cerulean Sea is, it is hard to forget that it’s also calmly, intelligently damning, and full of tough questions about difference, prejudice and complacency. The novel delicately carves out the myriad ways in which we see and don’t see our own world and the people around us. It questions our tendency to categorize people to make them easier to understand, to slip into neatly received misconceptions and stereotypes to avoid the discomfort of confronting our own ignorance, our shame. But however grim the novel’s resonance with the real world is, The House in the Cerulean Sea is always leavened with hope. It knows hate, but believes in people too. It is, at its core, a joyful celebration of the nondiscriminatory nature of love that thoughtfully explores not only its rewards but its risks too, and a reminder of the extraordinary power of a gift as simple as kindness.

All in all, The House in the Cerulean Sea is a cracking, charming novel, and I find myself hoping for a sequel. In fact, knowing this is a standalone, and there are no more books to come in this wonderful world is the novel’s only disappointment.

[emma · Rating 1 out of 5]

after i'd already picked this up and read most of it, i learned through good samaritans in my comments that this was to some degree inspired by the Sixties Scoop.

i won't tell you how you should feel about this, but i think that taking the unbearable trauma (a trauma that included not just the murder of a culture but also murder in a quite literal sense) of real-world Native children and turning that into a happy-go-lucky tale of how Hate Is Bad but the fantastical equivalent of those disgusting and reprehensible nonfiction orphanages is good...

well. i think that's f*cking gross. (and i have read from indigenous voices on both the Pro side and the Con side of this story. i have seen significantly more Con.)

here are some better reviews you can read about this:
Kas's
Sofia's

more of a review of my own to come.

okay, update - to give a bit more of a traditional review:

even had i not been informed of the at-least-partial inspiration behind this, there's no way this would have been higher than a 3 star read to me.

i don't like the saccharine or the sickly sweet. i don't like having to read about an unprecedentedly lonely man with a sh*tty life in a toxic workplace whose own cat, boss, coworkers, neighbors, and goddamn bus driver don't like him, in a city where it rains every day and he NEVER REMEMBERS HIS UMBRELLA.

i don’t like reading weirdly stilted dialogue, where the same sentences (“Quite.” “You dear man.” EVERY OTHER F*CKING SENTENCE SOME VARIATION “Oh you do, do you?” “Oh I did, didn’t I?” “Oh you have, have you?” “How I cherish/adore/simp for you.” Okay the last one I made up for a moment’s levity.)

i feel like this book could have been a hundred pages shorter and had the exact same impact on me. except it would be a touch and a tad more merciful, due to being shorter. this, to me, felt emotionally cheap and profoundly repetitive, as if enacting the same set of scenes where the characters show the same set of traits over and over would hypnotize me into falling in love with them.

this book is touted as feel-good kryptonite, but it didn’t make me feel good. it made me feel bad. maybe the rest of you are being deeply secretive about some magical island with cody ko-style blue ass water and a ragtag group of children sitting and waiting to give you unconditional love and a purpose in life, and also your soulmate and new best friend are there and baking pies, but…

many people are unhappy. many people are lonely. and as far as i can tell in the 23 years i’ve lived in this yucky world, there is no business trip that will deus ex machina your sorry ass into your place and your purpose and your people.

and i’ve never seen a wyvern either.

--------------
tbr review

i heard reading this is like a pure happiness injection, so here i am immediately

(thanks to diana for the rec!)

--------------

reading all books with LGBTQ+ rep for pride this month!

book 1: the gravity of us
book 2: the great american whatever
book 3: wild beauty
book 4: the affair of the mysterious letter
book 5: how we fight for our lives
book 6: blue lily, lily blue
book 7: the times i knew i was gay
book 8: conventionally yours
book 9: the hollow inside
book 10: nimona
book 11: dark and deepest red
book 12: the house in the cerulean sea

[Nilufer Ozmekik · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hands down, this is one of the best things I’ve read this year! I LOVED this book so much!

I was completely captivated by the world-building, the creative, crazy, unique ideas, and the beautifully crafted character development. This isn’t just your typical YA fantasy novel—it’s a story about acceptance, compassion, and opening your heart and soul. In essence, this book is about unconditional love and respecting the differences of others.

It’s a sweet, smart, entertaining, and heartwarming story that hooks you from the very first chapter, making you giggle, smile, and sigh along the way.

Let’s take a quick look at the storyline and characters:

Our narrator, Linus Baker, is a 40-year-old quiet, simple, and lonely man. He works as a caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, living a life that revolves around rules and orders handed down by the government.

Linus is meticulous and objective when inspecting orphanages filled with children who have supernatural abilities. He knows they’re different, and he respects that. He never treats them unfairly or makes them feel inferior. Instead, he sees them as equals to “normal” kids—but he also keeps his distance, never allowing himself to connect or get too close.

At the end of each day, Linus returns to his lonely home, where he argues with his noisy neighbor (who’s always trying to set him up with her accountant relative), listens to music, and talks to his grumpy cat, his only real friend in the world.

But everything changes when Linus is summoned by Extremely Upper Management for an urgent meeting.

He’s assigned a top-secret mission: to investigate the Marsyas Island Orphanage, home to six “extremely dangerous” children—a gnome, a wyvern, an unidentifiable green blob, a were-Pomeranian, a sprite, and a baby Lucy Morningstar. Yes, that Lucy Morningstar.

Thankfully, Linus isn’t told the full identities of the children during the meeting—otherwise, he might have passed out right then and there! Oh, and there’s one more detail: one of the children may possess enough power to bring about the End of Days. (No prizes for guessing which one. Yes, it’s the red-eyed one whose future self might just open a nightclub in LA!)

Linus can’t refuse the assignment, not if he wants to keep his job. He’s tasked with spending a month on the island to not only assess the well-being of the children but also evaluate the orphanage’s enigmatic and charming master, Arthur Parnassus.

With his cat in tow, Linus boards a train and sets off for Marsyas Island. Upon arrival, he quickly realizes that these children, despite their incredible powers and peculiarities, are still just kids. They crave love, compassion, care, and understanding. And Arthur, their master, has managed to provide all of that. The children adore him, and it’s clear he’s doing an exceptional job.

For the first time, Linus begins to break his own rules. He allows himself to empathize with the children, opening his heart to them in ways he never thought possible. For the first time, Linus isn’t alone. He doesn’t have to live a quiet, simple, lonely life anymore. By opening his heart and soul to unconditional love, he discovers a world of connection and belonging.

Of course, his decisions come with risks and unexpected consequences.

Overall: I loved everything about this beautiful, remarkable, and extraordinary story.

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[Mike · Rating 2 out of 5]

This book as a major disappointment for me. Some spoilers to follow.

While there was a bundle of good messages at its core (don't be ashamed of who you are, don't judge others by outward appearance, change can happen) the story itself struck me as aggressively shallow. What I mean by this was that for all the neat or quirky ideas in the book there was little to no exploration of them.

For instance we learn that gnomes exist but have been greatly reduced in numbers (indigenous people parallel perhaps) but we never learn beyond that. The fact just sort of floats out there, untethered to any consequence in the story. We don't know why or how what happened to the gnomes even though one of the main children in the story is a gnome herself.

Another child is the Anti-Christ. How do we know this? It is written in a file. This leads to all sorts of theological questions: how do we know his father is the devil? What are the theological implications of this revelation (no pun intended)? Why, in God's name, is he not being monitored 24/7 or perpetually doused in holy water if he really is a threat to bring about the end of the world? Once again we see no real examination of the ideas the story presents us.

Why are people afraid of magical creatures? Unclear
How do magical children integrate into society when they come of age? Never spoken of even though their powers would have a lot of beneficial real world consequences.

There was just so many consequential world building aspects that were ignored. This resulted in a lot of blank space around the story. There was no sense of the world or why it was the way it was.

The story itself was rather predictable. Will the children win the heart and affection of the by-the-books but terribly lonely case worker? Will the sad sack case worker find true love and break out of his dismal existence? Will everything work out better than expected by the end? I think you know the answer to those question. There were no surprises of twists. No moral ambiguity or tests. Possible plot turns that were alluded to in the story never grew into anything.

The good guys were clearly just and right, the antagonists (which I suppose could be the system instead of individuals) were very passive and absent in the story. There was no clash in the story and the big decision the main character makes to change his life is painfully telegraphed by the cliched nature of the story up to that point. The book as a whole felt like a waste of time to me. While there were occasional chuckles elicited, the plot remained unengaging, the characters uninteresting, and the whole reading experience a chore.

It read like one big PSA that boiled down to: Don't judge a book by its cover. In this case the cover was much more pleasing than the book itself.

[Rick Riordan]

An orphanage for magical children. An impossible romance between two gentle, caring men who live worlds apart. A shadowy bureaucracy that wants to keep magical children "safe" and away from the eyes of the general public. The power of found family and kindness against prejudice and fear.

Mix these elements, bake until sweet golden brown, take out of the oven and enjoy fresh and hot with your best friends . . . That is the taste of T. J. Klune's The House in the Cerulean Sea. Our hero Linus Baker would never consider himself a hero. He is a good man being slowly drained of life by his job as an inspector for DICOMY (Department in Charge of Magical Youth). He visits orphanages for magical children and inspects these places to recommend whether or not they should remain open. He truly cares for the well-being of the children, but he can't get attached. He stays at each orphanage only long enough to make his report, then he is off on his next assignment. What happens to the children when he leaves? What will happen to them when they grow up and face a harsh world that sees them as 'freaks'? Linus doesn't know. He has to keep his head down, do his job, and trust that Extremely Upper Management knows what they are doing. He can't let his heart be broken by the various banshees, dryads, fairies, werewolves and other magical children he meets during his inspections, many of whom have gone from foster home to foster home and suffered untold years of abuse just for being who they are.

But then Extremely Upper Management sends Linus on a special mission that is top secret: He is to spend one month evaluating the Marsyas Island Orphanage, run by Arthur Parnassus, and decide whether it should remain open. This is no ordinary magical home. The children there are special, terrifyingly special, and Arthur himself is hiding a deep secret. Can Linus keep his objectivity? Should he, once he discovers the truth?

This book is gentle and kind, full of faith in humanity's better nature despite all the ugliness and cruelty that tears us apart. At its core is a story about what good people do when faced with injustice, and how we find love, joy and family in difficult times. This book shows you a fantasy world you might not want to live in -- parts of it are depressingly familiar with government bureaucracies, dreary cities, uncaring neighbors and casual bigotry -- but you will definitely want to live on Marsyas Island with its wonderful cast of foundlings. Gay romance? Why, yes there is that too, absolutely: a tender, touching love story about how finding a true soulmate can make you the best version of yourself and give you courage to fight for what you care about.

Heartwarming and reaffirming . . . the kind of story we always need, these days perhaps more than ever.

[Yun · Rating 5 out of 5]

Please excuse me while I dry my tears and wipe that big goofy smile off my face. What an absolutely wondrous story The House in the Cerulean Sea turned out to be!

Linus is a buttoned-up, live-by-the-rules, no-fun employee who works for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. When he gets his latest secret assignment from Extremely Upper Management to visit an orphanage on a remote island, he doesn't know what to expect. But soon his assignment turns into the adventure of a lifetime, one that will touch his heart and irrevocably change who he is.

This book has the most marvelous characters. Everyone we meet is kindhearted, if a bit prickly at first. As we get to know them, they unfurl into the most loveable creatures. They learn and unbend and grow into their potential, becoming so much more than they were before. The children especially, with their funny and exuberant antics, really grabbed my heart and refused to let go.

There was so much humor packed into the pages, I was constantly chuckling and smiling. It was dry and sarcastic and witty, poking gentle fun at work and bureaucracy and taking things too seriously. Humor is so subjective, so I'm not sure how this would appeal to everyone, but it totally resonated with me and kept me delighted.

At its heart, this is a story about acceptance and seeing someone for who they are on the inside. That is such a worthy view, and one I wholeheartedly agree with. There's definitely an element of cheesiness here that could feel a bit much. At times, it borderlines on preachy, but that's only a few paragraphs here and there, and the humor helps to balance it out.

Occasionally, I come across a book I fall in love with from the very first page, and that's what happened here. This sweet, whimsical, quirky, funny, and magical story gave me all the feelies. I laughed, I cried, I smiled so much that my cheeks hurt. Its message of kindness, joy, and unity makes my heart soar. Honestly, what more could I ask for?

~~~~~~~~~~~~
See also, my thoughts on:
In the Lives of Puppets
Under the Whispering Door
~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Connect with me ✧ Instagram ✧

[Holly · Rating 3 out of 5]

Maybe I'm just a cold person but to me this book felt over the top with saccharine sweetness, went into overkill with the morality lessons, and the odd humor fell flat. I honestly almost gave up on this book at the 75% mark but at that point I figured I might as well just finish it out.

The book starts off just with a weird humorous tone - the heads of the corporation that the main character, Linus, works for is referred to only as "Extremely Upper Management". I'm not making that up. So from that I assumed that this book was supposed to be somewhat farcical, which I was not expecting in an adult fantasy book, but I went with it. However for the record, this kind of humor is not my cup of tea.

Once the story starts to actually get going, we are then hit left and right with lessons that the kids and Linus 'learn'. Here's a small sampling:

"We should always make time for the things we like. If we don't, we might forget how to be happy.'

"When something is broken, you can put it back together. It may not fit quite the same, or work like it did once before, but that doesn't mean it's no longer useful."

"A home isn't always the house we live in. It's also the people we choose to surround ourselves with."

These aren't bad lessons by any means, but they are simplistic, almost constant, and is a lot of 'telling' not 'showing' - something I expect to read in a YA book and/or Little Women (don't get me started on that book).

And then at the end, what should have been sweet touching moments, I was just ready for the book to end. Especially when hate in a whole village is overcome by a couple of speeches, a gardening Mayor, and a hippie record store owner.

I honestly would have rated this book lower, but it wasn't terrible as much as it was just NOT FOR ME.

[T.J.]

Updated 12/29/20

The House in the Cerulean Sea is now out in paperback! Return to the island where everything is happy, and you'll only be threatened a little bit by a gnome with a shovel and the Antichrist. Now available wherever books are sold. (Buy link below, or support your local indie store!)

https://us.macmillan.com/books/978125...



**************


At last, at long last, my first book with Tor has released!

The House in the Cerulean Sea is a love letter to those who should be allowed to feel small and cared for when the world seems dark. Today, March 17, is a scary time. And it might get a little worse before it gets better. But I promise you it will. This book—this funny little book—is my way of helping you see sunlight through all the dark clouds. I hope you’re ready, because you’re about to go on an adventure you won’t expect.

Thank you for supporting me. Thank you for reading my books. Thank you for letting me do this because without you, I wouldn’t be here.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is now available wherever books are sold! And, if you can, please support your local indie bookstore! They are a big reason why Cerulean has hype. I appreciate all booksellers and librarians more than I could say.

Order today!

[jessica · Rating 5 out of 5]

i have actively avoided this book. even with all the hype its gotten over the past year and half, the story just didnt interest me in the slightest. but then i read TJKs ‘under the whispering door’ and it broke me. so here i am. hoping to have a similar experience.

and i did. gosh, there are so many little nuggets of wisdom and truth embedded in this. there are also moments of pure happiness and love. like this adorable gem:

‘youre too precious to put into words. i think… its like one of theodores buttons. if you asked him why he cared about them so, he would tell you its because they exist at all.’

i cant really add much to the thousands of reviews that have already been posted for this book. but for me, personally, this story is wonderfully life-affirming and gives me the hope in humanity that i desperately need.

↠ 5 stars

[Hailey (Hailey in Bookland)]

I really enjoyed this! It was filled with charming characters, children and adults alike, so much whimsy, a hint of romance, and was just an overall sweet read. However, I can't help but wonder how I would have felt about it had I not seen so much hype surrounding it. I think I would have liked it a bit more because while I enjoyed it a lot, my expectations were too high going in. That being said, I think that it was a very unique and fantastic read. Kind of like Miss Peregrine's but for adults in a way. I particularly enjoyed watching the main character contemplate what really matters in life and if the drudgery and routine of what he does every day is what he really wants, or if he can break out of that. Overall, a great read, but I do wish I hadn't had expectations going in.

[Brooke Averick · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book has completely bewitched me, body and soul. My heart is so warm. A more endearing cast of character simply does not exist: a lovable stickler for rules and regulations, a little boy with big dreams of becoming a bellhop, a six-year old antichrist who needs a booster seat at dinner and loves Bobby Darin, a man whose pants are never quite long enough…and to top it all off, it's gay. I cried the happiest tears from the second Linus stepped foot on the island to the very last page. This book is magic.

[ELLIAS (elliasreads) · Rating 5 out of 5]

IM FUCKING SOBBING.

S O B B I N G .

This shit hit different and I too, want to live in the House in the Cerulean Sea.

Reading Vlog : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5h-ln...
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[Emily (Books with Emily Fox on Youtube) · Rating 4 out of 5]

So... this was unexpected.

I'm not sure if it's 2020 or the Holidays getting to me but this was very wholesome!

This definitely felt a bit like a children's book but the characters were attaching and I definitely laughed/smiled a few times while listening to this audiobook.

[mina reads™️ · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book made me cry over a button so clearly it’s a five star read 🥺

[Regan · Rating 5 out of 5]

omfg this was so cute I am DYING

[Claudia Lomelí · Rating 5 out of 5]

Uhhmmm ESTOY LLORANDO LÁGRIMAS DE FELICIDAD OK.

[Maggie Stiefvater]

this book is for people whose hearts are not crusted with barnacles

(my heart is crusted with barnacles)

[zuza_zaksiazkowane · Rating 4 out of 5]

4.5
Yes I’m crying so what

[Lisa of Troy · Rating 4 out of 5]

Calliope was my favorite!



For the past 17 years, Linus Baker has been living a quiet life as a caseworker. He visits orphanages that are homes for children who are magical creatures. However, Linus is assigned to a top-secret mission: to inspect an orphanage for five very special magical creatures and their leader, Arthur. What will Linus discover?

First of all, the cover to this book is simply phenomenal! I have heard many people describe this book as a hug. And I did find it enjoyable and adorable. The cat, Calliope, was my favorite character (Is anyone really surprised by that?). This book was also unique and magical, and the fantasy wasn’t confusing or difficult to imagine. The characters were distinct enough that I was able to keep try of all of them.

That being said, this book seemed a little preachy and long-winded at times. “Don’t you wish you were here?” was mentioned ten times. It would have been more poignant if it wasn’t referenced so many times.

Overall, a very enjoyable read.

2025 Reading Schedule
Jan A Town Like Alice
Feb Birdsong
Mar Captain Corelli's Mandolin - Louis De Berniere
Apr War and Peace
May The Woman in White
Jun Atonement
Jul The Shadow of the Wind
Aug Jude the Obscure
Sep Ulysses
Oct Vanity Fair
Nov A Fine Balance
Dec Germinal

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[Ay · Rating 1 out of 5]

The exercise of an “honest review” is an interesting one. Generally on goodreads I write frank reviews to vent or to remind myself of my thoughts for later. I tend to pick my reading for recreational purposes. That meshes well when I get a netgalley book to review which I would normally read anyway.

This book I asked for on the off chance that I’d like it, as some Klunes are desert island reads for me. Having quickly ascertained that this book was awful, I had to think a bit about what to do. If I had downloaded the sample from amazon, that would have been the end of it. If I had bought it, I would not have continued to read it, and returned it for a refund.

I’m not a professional book reviewer who has a broader job to review books, and liking or disliking a book is less central to how she goes about it.

But I got the copy in exchange for an honest review. Perhaps I got one out of a limited number, so it seems unfair not to do what I undertook.

If you like Klune, you will probably like this book. This is more juvenile fabulist Klune, not adult Klune. This is also Klune writing in this particular moment in time - of growing stress, hate, fear polarisation and evil on the part of those in power. This book is, in part a response to current political trends in the Anglosphere. In the book he basically exhorts all of us to speak out against tyranny and do what we can to stop it. Can’t argue with that.

Here are some issues I have with the book which many readers will not: the story is a bit like a fairy tale (I hate fairy tales) or a fable (I hate fables). The story is all about the kids (I hate kids).

Having said all those lengthy disclaimers, here is my review:

God it was awful.

The book starts out with the humour of discomfort. The MC is a misfit in a toxic workplace with a confined uncomfortable life. There is an air of Dickensian misery. There is an air of Englishness about the whole thing, perhaps the way everyone is trapped in miserable powerless damp grey lives. At the same time it has a theme of self fulfilment/individuality which is very American.

The book read like a juvenile. At one point I popped onto Amazon to see whether the book was marketed as for kids or young adults, and it is not. The narration talks down to the readers. The narration talks a lot generally. It is wordy and self indulgent. Someone has been reading too much Douglass Adams recently, and possibly Winnie the Pooh.

It’s pretty clear in the early chapters how the book is going to unfurl.

You can just tell By about page 5 that the MC’s arc will be about finding himself, a found family and self realisation. (And it is).

So he goes off to check out an orphanage for unusual children. At this point it is confirmed that the main theme is “even if you are unusual/a bit fat/everyone thinks you’re evil, you are a good person, accept yourself as you are. We should accept and welcome everyone”. (And it was).

There is lots of uncomfortable exchanges with people which I did not enjoy.

You can tell there is going to be a romantic arc between the MC and the fellow who runs the orphanage, and some revelation about the shenanigans of those in power. (And there was).

This book can be targeted at Young People as there isn’t any sex in it.(not that young people care, but older people in charge of marketing apparently do).

Another annoying aspect: the MC moves back to the island to live with his new BF who runs the orphanage and the kids. It’s a Government Orphanage. Wouldn’t any self respecting government have concerns with someone just turning up and moving in?

ETA September 2023: Holy Prussin Ratf*** I have just learned that this book was inspired by the "sixties scoop" https://indigenousfoundations.arts.ub... , that is to say, genocide. In other words, it's about sugar coating genocide. No wonder this book felt so weird and vile. ...So the MC was participating in the banality of evil. That explains a lot. I had no idea.

[Reading_ Tamishly · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is one goddamn fairytale. An original one. Which won't be retold in such perfection. I can see authors trying to tell their versions of this fairytale in 2050. Even then, they will find this hidden in the internet archives that once a reviewer gramma wrote this and they would be low-key panicking whenever there's the feeling of thinking of rewriting this precious goddamn fairytale 😎

There's this stepmother (mean, biased fairytale writers! Why only stepmothers are grouchy bad eh??!)...well, I repeat, there's this cruel, strict stepmother-like top organization which send formal check rounds to see if the orphanages were functioning prim and proper.

A clueless prince is sent to an orphan home set miles away which an ocean (oh, Cerulean! Oh, it's a sea, not an ocean but the ocean is an ocean in the fairytale) seemingly keeps the living creatures (I meant that) in it separated from the rest of the world (sometimes I feel the word world is so undramatic. I wanted to use the universe or the galaxy. But that would not just fit.)

So this prince arrives, gets entangled in a mess like situation which makes him feel like he's been made fun of, or not taken seriously at all, or just that he's been taken as someone easy to be with.

And then there's this protective-as-heck-about-his-kids he. Yass, my he. The other he. (Stop it!) Nah. The he who's going to be the one who slow burns the grandma reviewer here with his being he. And these two hes will join forces in their fairy tale to actually fast burn the reader grandma towards the end with all their (beep..beep...beep).

And then there's my (okay, they are my family now. So my. Mine.) I repeat, then there's my kids, oh the little naughty, cute, broken, scarred, beautiful, scary, wonderful, playful demons.

(I didn't know I was the one who was going to write the retelling of this book. Nah. I would go and write the rest of this in my blog because GoodReads reviews are meant to have reviews...so here I go to my old blog. I have to write about the kids and the mayor and the two MCs!!!! 🙋 🎧 🧟 run don't walk away ⚔️ oh, she's sweet but a psycho 🎶

(Warning: this ain't a good review. Review? Forget it. It's just me going crazy about how much I love this book.)


Still in a daze. Since 5th September. The night I finished up reading this book and I am going to write a review which betrays justice. Yes, I am the criminal book reviewer reviewing books like my life depends on it when in real it's real. (See what I mean?!)

***Book hangover. My damon babies 💕😭🤗🤛🤛 Arthur. Linus. Phee. Talia. Even Calliope.***

*How can I ever get to get over this book?! 10 days after reading the book and I still feel the lump in my throat because I am still freaking happy and my feelings tend to crack like my heart cannot bear the love pain I have for the me-screaming-happy happy ending.

Sorry, I don't think I will ever get to write a proper mean review about this book. Like ever. Because it always has its way to unravel the muscle fibres of my heart to distinct skeletal, smooth and cardiac. Yes, there's no going back!🙋

[Heather K (dentist in my spare time) · Rating 5 out of 5]

An extraordinary treat for both T.J. Klune fans and those new to his writing, The House in the Cerulean Sea is a heart-warming, wholesome, diverse, ridiculous, and completely lovable fantasy story.

As a long-time T.J. Klune fan, as I'm sure many of you are, I know you are asking yourself what this book will be like now that T.J. Klune is publishing with the big boys. I'm very happy to report that the book read just like I was expecting it to, which means tight writing, romance (!), queer characters everywhere (natch), and a story you won't want to put down.

I wasn't sure how this book would be, to be honest, because it is billed as "contemporary fantasy," and I'm not really a fantasy reader. And, really, I'm surprised it's a contemporary because I would have placed the timeline as further in the past due to some of the details, but that's not really here nor there. It isn't an high fantasy, so it is good for low fantasy readers who simply like a little magic in their world, like me. But the bottom line is if you've enjoyed TJ's books in the past, you'll love this story. And if you are new to him, you'll soon be devouring his backlist. Welcome to the club.

I think this book could be enjoyed by all readers of all ages. It is probably meant for adults, but it's a great read for those as young as middle grade (I would let my 5th grader read it if her reading level was advanced enough). It has a lot of important lessons about how we judge one another and what our preconceived notions are about other people, and in this world, the more gentle learning we can take in, the better. It does edge a bit towards sentimental at times, but it just adds to the charm.

TJ is very adept at writing interesting young characters, and that's where this book really shines. The children in this story are all heart-breaking, and funny (the BEST parts of the story), and you'll fall in love with them all. I would be hard-pressed to pick my favorites, but Lucy and Chauncey stood out for me. Lucy has some of the best contrasts in the book, and Chauncey is just so pure. *1,000 heart-eye emojis.*

The story is fairly long, but that just means more to savor. You won't be bored for one minute, and you'll leave the story feeling happy and hopeful.

With his typical beautiful writing and unique style, T.J. Klune makes The House in the Cerulean Sea shine. With no end to his imagination in sight, I can't wait to see what TJ will come up with next.


*Copy provided in exchange for an honest review*

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[Warda · Rating 5 out of 5]

If you were to ask me how I’m feeling today, I’ll tell you I’m feeling pretty fuckin’ perfect.

This book was unbelievably hyped. There are some hyped books you get, and an instinctual feeling sets in and you know that it’s deserved. Not just deserved: there’s something about it that sets it apart from others.

I knew my soul needed this book. And it’s not that themes discussed were anything new. Or all happy for that matter. But they made for great reminders and they made you feel content.
The author put his own spin on it, his own language. And then us readers find it and it makes every struggle you’re going through just that much more manageable. Your heart breathes better for it. It might possibly be even worth it?

“I don’t know why you can’t see it.”
“See what?”
“You. Everything you are.”

For those that want to feel seen, heard, understood and belong somewhere, this book is for you.

[Riley · Rating 5 out of 5]

this book is instant serotonin
It is a perfect magical escapist story filled with whimsy and enchantment. If you want a book that will make you happy from the first page to the last, look no further!

[cossette · Rating 1 out of 5]

edit: 5/31/21:

I'm just going to leave this quote here that TJ Klune said in this podcast.
source

“The House in the Cerulean Sea” is a, it’s a bit of a quirky fantasy, but it deals with some very real, topical, specific issues. It actually started from a Wikipedia article because I have a tendency to get lost in Wikipedia for a long time and that’s a problem. But I will be in one article and I’ll click on another one, then another one, and then another one until I’m completely off what I was trying to look up to begin with. But I came across something known as the Sixties Scoop, which was in Canada during the fifties and sixties, where indigenous children were taken from their homes and put into government sanctioned orphanages, for lack of a better word.

And the idea stuck with me. It was something that I could not shake. And this was, this was at the end of 2017-ish. I had just finished writing my YA debut, “The Extraordinaires,” and I was looking into wanting to continue along in that vein with something a little bit different. And so when I stumbled upon this article about children being taken because they were different or they didn’t adhere to what standards people thought should be at the time , it was something that I couldn’t get out of my head and, but I didn’t want to co-opt, you know, a history that wasn’t mine. I’m a cis white dude, so I can’t ever really go through something like what those children had to go through.

So I sat down and I was like, I’m just going to write this as a fantasy. "

because ... writing it as a fantasy ... is going to ... change the fact that — i simply just have no words.


---

update: 5/18

I'm honestly shocked & appalled at how frequently I've seen The House in the Cerulean Sea recommended for many reasons. I was incredibly put-off by the fatphobia while reading it, as well as the love interest being the "master of the orphanage" (which is also a conflict of interest + there’s an uneven power dynamic ... not to mention master of the orphanage sure is ... a choice), but it wasn't until after i finished the book and googled it that I realized T.J. Klune had written The House in the Cerulean Sea based off of the Sixties Scoop —

While clicking through Wikipedia--his favorite website, he said--one night, he discovered a page about the "Sixties Scoop," which refers to the Canadian government's practice of removing indigenous children from their homes with the intent of adopting them out to white, middle-class families.

source .


Although I believe The House in the Cerulean Sea sets out to send a message about celebrating differences, unpacking preconceived notions & stereotypes about others, and seeing what can happen when people are given a place where they feel safe & cherished, it does so in incredibly harmful ways. It quite frankly, lacks nuance. Linus has worked for what is essentially, a magical version of DCYF for seventeen years, and has never once questioned how these children come to be removed & separated from their homes, families and their cultures, placed into "homes" that aren't a good fit, never once wondered what happens to them after he's done evaluating the home? Never once thinks about who has the "rights" to make these decisions for these children? Never once questions or considers the trauma that they go through?

The House in the Cerulean Sea is quite frankly, shallow. The comparisons/parallels between these magical, sometimes human, sometimes not, children, and the sufferings between Indigenous people are awful. Can we talk about how TJ Klune found out about The Sixties Scoop and then went ~ ooh let me profit off of this and wrap it in a found family story and make it okay ~. We're supposed to just ... know that these magical beings have been greatly reduced in numbers, separated from their homes, and then ... what? That it's okay because they have a new home and things are "better" now? Better for who? In what sense? Is the best option not reunification with their family and cultures? Why isn't there any conversation about what happened to the magical adults?

There is no consideration to the actual historical or systemic oppression in the world of
The House in the Cerulean Sea , nor is there any consideration of it in our real world today. I am still trying to wrap my mind around the fact that the entire town stops being outwardly bigoted because their mayor says so, and that DICOMY stops looking into Arthur because of Linus' report. The reason we're given for why humans hate magical beings is because they're afraid — we're told that if humans only got the chance to know these magical beings, then their prejudice would go away. That's ... not how oppression works. Racism and prejudices don't just go away from knowing someone of that marginalized group.

I would not recommend this book to anyone, and if you’d like to learn more about The Sixties Scoop, here are some books I plan on checking out:

— Intimate Integration: A History of the Sixties Scoop and the Colonization of Indigenous Kinship
— Ohpikiihaakan-Ohpihmeh (Raised Somewhere Else): A 60s Scoop Adoptee's Story of Coming Home
— Behind the Smile: A Survivor of the Metis Sixties Scoop

-----
previous review (5/16):

edit: what the fuck do you mean this is based off of "the Sixties Scoop, which refers to the Canadian government's practice of removing indigenous children from their homes with the intent of adopting them out to white, middle-class families." ( source )

this was .... a disappointment. i know so so many people who loved this book, but i really couldn't get into it. the repeated fatphobia, calling arthur the "master of the orphanage" ... there was just so much that didn't sit right with me.

bella's review here and this bit from thefourthvine's review highlights some of my biggest issues with this book:

The worldbuilding in this story — pretty much isn’t. What country is it located in? We do not know. Why are there magical beings in it? We don’t know. What is the governmental structure? No clue. And you’d think all that wouldn’t matter, but oh, it does. The main character, Linus Baker, works for the department that is apparently in charge of taking magical children from their parents and imprisoning them in orphanages or schools. (Never quite clear what the difference is between the two — at one point the narrative mentions bars on the windows at schools, but then, it sounds like that’s the case at some of the orphanages, too.) The book does say that’s something that used to happen, but I can only assume it is still happening in some form, because otherwise, where do all these kids come from? Are the magical adults being killed? Are they forced into poverty such that their children are getting taken away from them?

And if that’s starting to sound like a very familiar real-world story, just with Black or Native American people turned into magical/monstrous beings, well, yeah. That’s a big part of my problem with this book. Shoddy worldbuilding can wander over into offensively appropriating the genocidal traumas of real groups of people, simply because the author didn’t think things through. (I assume he didn’t think things through. If he genuinely decided to do this, to recapitulate the traumas of real-world peoples, but turn them into monsters first, my opinion of him downgrades 1000 notches, and this review will lose its last star.)

i personally would not recommend this book.

[carol. · Rating 4 out of 5]

This is a birthday cake of a book. Perhaps a birthday cake dressed up in scary themes, but ultimately, a heart-warming, delicious concoction of a story that just skirts being teeth-tinglingly sweet.



Thankfully, the children in the story are monsters enough to cut the sugar with a little milk.

I enjoyed Cerulean Sea, especially once our milquetoast hero, Linus, makes his way to the orphanage and meets the very special children The Department In Charge of Magical Youth wants examined. Until then, the build is slow going, as Linus lives in the black and white version of the world. It reminded me, perhaps unsurprisingly, of all the horrible conformity scenes in all the children's books I've ever read, particularly Doris Umbridge shouting over Potter, and those creepy synchronized children in the land controlled by It in A Wrinkle in Time. So: boring, creepy, overt. Let's get to Oz, shall we?


"Lucy puffed out his chest. 'I'm brave! And since I'm the leader, my brave order will be that Arthur goes first to make sure it's safe while the rest of us wait right here.'
Everyone nodded.
Including Linus.
Arthur arched an eyebrow at him.
'He has a point,' Linus said. 'Bravery is a virtue and all that.'
Arthur's lips twitched. 'If I must.'
'You must,' Lucy told him. 'And if there are cannibals, yell back at us when they start to eat you so we know to run away.'
'What if they eat my mouth first?'"

Oz is where the magic happens, and where Linus suddenly connects with people, or at least, the children who live in the isolated orphanage. There's Chauncey, the nightmare who dreams of being a bellhop; Talia, the bearded gnome; Phee the forest sprite; Theodore the wyvern; Sid, who has a contagious form of the were virus; and Lucy. Talia has an obsession with graveyards and would love the opportunity to bury someone. When she first meets Linus, she rather hopes he would be her first.

“'You've gone awfully pale,' Talia said as she squinted up at him. 'And you're swaying. Are you ill? If you are, I think we should go back to the garden so you can die there. I don't want to have to drag you all the way back. You look really heavy.' She reached up and poked his stomach. 'So soft.'
'I’m not ill,” he snapped at her. “I’m just processing.”
'Oh. That’s too bad. If your left upper arm starts to hurt, would you let me know?'
'Why would I – that’s a sign of a heart attack, isn’t it?'”

So, of course Linus' heart grows three sizes, and he has to learn to stop being such a rule-follower and start actually standing up for a principle. All's well and good, isn't it?

Well, mostly. There's a few problems. Linus' internal voice is mostly observational, spending most of it's time observing his own feelings at that, and not particularly introspective or analytical. From the first scene, this is pointed out to him by a witch at an orphanage he's assessing, and while it presumably hits home, he doesn't analyze it much. So the reader has to interpret Linus' journey. Did he make it out of personal growth? Were the children a catalyst? Was it happening anyway? Or was this about L-U-V? There is telling, and there is showing, but there is also processing and how did we get there? Because it's one thing to have a Grinch have his heart grow three sizes; it's quite another to take a forty-year-old and make them willing to upend their life (and their career of seventeen years). I'm not saying I don't believe, because, honestly, who wouldn't want to hang out with a button-hunting wyvern and create awesome gardens with a gnome? but well, maybe I kinda am. Because I want to know how it's done.

"Merle frowned at him. 'These things can mostly handle themselves. Computers, wouldn’t you know.'
'Oh,' Linus said without thinking. “What’s the point of you, then?'
Merle glared. 'What did you say?'”

But yes, those are the grown-up details that only occur after you finish reading it, or when you have to go back to real life and pay the insurance bill or something like that. The story itself is eminently charming and while it is very clear with its message of tolerance, it's a message that really deserves to be heard. And apparently some people do deserve hitting over the head. And if a garden gnome wants to take them and bury them in the garden, who am I to complain? At least fertilizer is useful.

"'What I’m trying to say is that there is to be no more talk about death or dying!'
Talia nodded sagely as she stroked her beard. 'Exactly. Because it’s better not to know if we’re about to die. That way, we don’t start screaming right now. It’ll be a surprise. We can always scream then.'”

So, read if you like birthday cake--the good kind, not the sickly sweet, teeth-itching kind--and want a change from the dark and dismal.

Re-read 8/24 for a feel-good read. Pedantic in a couple of spots, I'd say one could certainly do worse, and the children are so charming in their own bloodthirsty career aspirations, it is worth it.

[Baba Yaga Reads · Rating 2 out of 5]

Listen, I get it. The world sucks, everything is awful, we’re all in desperate need of hopeful, uplifting fiction to escape from this grim universe.
But is a simplistic, tooth-achingly sweet fantasy really the best publishing has to offer in these trying times?
Maybe I’m too cynical. Maybe I spent too many years working with actual children and youth in need to believe this idealized, pastel-colored fairytale. Or maybe I just hate being talked down to by the books I read. In any case, to say that The House in the Cerulean Sea didn’t work for me is an understatement.

Let’s start with what I liked: the prose was really easy to read, if excessively melodramatic at times. The love story, which took way less page time than I expected, was sweet and well developed. And I guess the author’s intentions are laudable, in the same way that any story promoting acceptance and diversity is.
But the execution fell completely flat for me. For one thing, everything felt so clichéd. From the underdog protagonist with a serious case of Cinderella syndrome (everyone is mean to him for absolutely no reason, and he takes every ounce of abuse without batting an eye), to the “depressing city vs. bucolic countryside” dichotomy, to the use of magic as an allegory for real-world discrimination, every element of the story felt tired and predictable. I could tell how things were going to play out right from chapter two.

Now, old tropes can certainly be re-imagined in fresh and innovative ways; in this specific case, however, I never felt like I was reading something unique. To me, this read like a standard middle-grade fantasy repackaged for an adult audience. It features all the typical elements of a children’s book: black-and-white morality, heavy-handed social commentary, cartoonishly evil villains, a fairytale ending where systemic oppression is magically solved by a few people. Granted, all the above are okay when used in the context of children’s literature: after all, young kids need to be explained things in a clear and easily digestible way.
The world of adults, on the other hand, is a lot more complex, and I really don’t think that over-simplifying your story to make it as obvious as possible is a good way to tackle social justice issues. Klune tries to say that people aren’t black and white (or rather, he repeats it over and over again, just like he does every other moral lesson in this book), but he never shows it: in fact, the story conveys quite the opposite message. Linus, Arthur, and the people who support them are good, everyone else is bad. No nuance is allowed, no antagonist is anything more than a farcical caricature.

Bigotry is presented as a problem that can be easily solved by the actions of a single savior, who goes from working for a discriminatory system to fighting and defeating it within the span of a few months. No consideration is given to the historical and societal roots of systemic oppression, nor are we given any insight into the work of other marginalized activists besides Arthur.
All it takes to bring down a government agency is one whistle-blower (apparently no one else in the government has any interest in locking up, or exploiting magical youth), an entire town stops being bigoted because their woke mayor said so, and a massive grassroots movement is born out of nowhere after a low-level employee denounces DICOMY’s abusive practices.

According to the book’s narrative, oppression stems from ignorance and fear only. Humans hate magical beings because they’re afraid of them: if they knew that they’re good and harmless, they would happily embrace their presence. Sounds perfectly logical, right?
Except we know that’s not how oppression works. Privileged groups don’t marginalize minorities because they don’t know them well enough, they marginalize them because it allows them to retain a position of power within society. Any allegory of systemic discrimination that fails to take this into account is bound to be a weak one.

And I know you’re probably thinking, “Why are you taking this book so seriously? It’s just a fun romantic fantasy!”. The thing is, The House in the Cerulean Sea is so preachy and didactic that I simply can’t review it without addressing its central message.

Even leaving aside this specific aspect, the book had a number of other issues that prevented me from fully enjoying it. Everything is spelled out for the reader, as if the target audience was middle schoolers who don’t understand subtext. Characters, including children, often serve as mouthpieces for the author’s ideas and speak in contrived lines no actual child would ever say. Even the villains are so obviously, over-the-top mean that they end up sounding ridiculous. For example, this is how a shop owner reacts when the protagonists enter his store:
"You aren’t welcome in my shop. You aren’t welcome in this village. I don’t care how much we’re paid to keep quiet. Go back to your damn island."

It took me a while to understand why this kind of didactic, on-the-nose writing style doesn’t work for me; and I've come to the conclusion that I just don’t like to be told what to think, or who to root for, when I read a book. Whenever I feel like an author is trying to force a certain perspective on me, I immediately start feeling manipulated and wanting to distance myself from the story.
And this is exactly what happened with this novel: I couldn’t buy into its binary, simplistic view of the world.

[Matt's Fantasy Book Reviews · Rating 4 out of 5]

Check out my YouTube channel where I show my instant reactions upon finishing reading fantasy books.

A delightfully pleasant cozy fantasy book that will leave you smiling from beginning to end.

This book was not written for someone like me. I like huge, epic fantasy - and the darker and bloodier the most I will usually like it. So read a "cute", low stakes fantasy is just so contrary to what my tastes are.

But I actually had a good time reading this, and it actually served as a good palate cleaner between the more dense books than I am used to. While no part of this book "wowed" me, I just constant had a smile on my face while reading and was engrossed in finding out what would happen here with the plot - even though it's extremely obvious from the beginning.

The characters are the stars here, and are just so easy to fall in love with. Each of them is well developed and goes through nice character growth in a short amount of pages.

I'm going to keep this review short since seemingly everyone has read this book before and I'm no adding anything new to the discussion here, but I would recommend this to any fantasy fan who is alright with reading something slower and "cuter" than the traditional fantasy book.

[Melissa ~ Bantering Books · Rating 5 out of 5]

Be sure to visit Bantering Books to read all my latest reviews.

“His thoughts were all cerulean.”

Mine, too. My thoughts are all cerulean, now that I have read TJ Klune’s wonderful novel, The House in the Cerulean Sea. And never have they been tinted such a brilliant, exquisite shade of blue.

Linus Baker lives routinely by the rules. He is a dedicated caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth; he knows every word of its RULES AND REGULATIONS by heart. At the end of each workday, he returns home to an empty house, comforted only by his classic record collection and his cantankerous (but lovable) cat, Calliope.

Then unexpectedly, Linus is given a top-secret assignment by Extremely Upper Management. His mission? To travel to a clandestine orphanage on Marsyas Island, where six highly magical, highly dangerous children live. While there, Linus is expected to observe both the children and the master of the orphanage, Arthur Parnassus, report his findings to Extremely Upper Management, and ultimately determine whether the orphanage should be closed.

But as in all good tales, Linus soon finds there is much more to Arthur and the children than meets the eye. And much to his astonishment, he also discovers a quiet yearning within his own heart for a life he never even knew he wanted.

Prepare yourselves. I am about to gush. Profusely.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is an absolute treasure. It is a pot of gold found at the end of a rainbow. It is a priceless jewel cupped protectively in one’s hands. It is a perfectly delicious sundae with a cherry on top. It is a golden ray of sunlight shining through the blackest of clouds. It is a stunningly spectacular summer sunset.

And bar none, it is the kindest, gentlest, most loving story I have ever read. Ever. Love and kindness virtually radiate from Klune’s words and ever so tenderly spiral around you like a soft, warm blanket. The entire reading experience is incredibly comforting and calming.

Like Linus, the novel is one that I never even knew I needed. Or wanted. I am grateful to have found it.

Klune’s tale is, for sure, a fantastical one, filled with lovable magical children and endearing magical creatures. It has charm, whimsy, and a touch of romance. It has gorgeously simple writing.

It also has impeccable humor. The novel is truly hysterical, in a cleverly dry and witty sort of way. It may very well be the most amusing story I have ever read.

But do you know what I love most about The House in the Cerulean Sea?

Its gently powerful messages. Because not only is the novel about kindness – it’s about prejudice and how its roots burrow in fear and misunderstanding. It’s about encouraging people to be who they are and accepting and loving them for it. It’s about the freedom to love whomever you want to love, wholly and freely.

It’s beautiful. Klune has written a beautiful, beautiful book.

Indeed, the story does feel slightly preachy and a bit syrupy at times. The narrative is also quite predictable and crammed with many common literary tropes. But really, none of it matters.

Why? Because the The House in the Cerulean Sea is special. Books as unforgettable as this are few and far between. And even though it may feel like you’ve previously read this story, there is an exceptionally good chance you will adore it more than all the others that have come before.

Sincerely, I cannot recommend this novel highly enough. I will never be able to gather the proper words to accurately express how I marvel at the magic of this story.

I know, deep within my soul, that it should not be missed by anyone, as it is so lovingly written for everyone.

Anyone and everyone with a beating heart, that is.

And if, regrettably, you have misplaced your heart somewhere on this treacherous road known as life. . . The House in the Cerulean Sea may be just the story you need to find it once again.


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[Trin · Rating 1 out of 5]

Okay, I feel totally Grinchish, but I did not like this. This was not for me.

This is a story about how Prejudice Is Bad. While very clearly a large portion of society does still need to be anviled over the head with this message, in terms of preaching-to-the-choir fiction, this book follows the standard formula to a T. There are no surprises; I anticipated every beat. Which, alone, is not inherently bad -- there can be a comfort in that kind of story. One's enjoyment then simply becomes a matter of whether you like the trappings with which basic plotline is strung.

I hated them here.

Predominantly, the characters. You can make the oldest story in the world feel fresh and surprising if you build the narrative around likable characters. I will say that Klune's characters are well-delineated, in that they are not generic, and are all distinct from one another. However, he accomplishes this by making all of them larger than life. This is not a subtle book, and the extreme gloom and doom (with which he paints the big bad city) and extreme twee (with which he paints the island of misfits) carries over onto his characters. Each of the children in the orphanage has one major trait or tic, and performs it over and over again, quirkily. I imagine this is supposed to be lovable, but that was not the emotion it evoked in me.

Oh yeah, this is kidfic, by the way. Very, very much kidfic, with all the tropes associated therewith, and if you are a fan of that kind of thing, you will probably have a much higher baseline level of enjoyment than I did. I like maybe one kidfic out of a hundred, and this was not the rulebreaker.

But kiddums aside: I didn't like the adults either. I found Linus to be a prig and Arthur to be sanctimonious. The former is intentional to some degree, but I never found Linus' evolution out of prigdom convincing; he went from terrified of the kids to World's Second Best Dad far too quickly and easily.

I think I was meant to find Arthur (not to mention Miss Chapelwhite) to be a perfect saintly angel, and the level of authorial haloing here not only did not prevent me but may have caused me to mostly just find him condescending. When it's time for Linus to leave the island, and everyone including these adults start guilting him for not immediately and unhesitatingly giving up his entire life to stay, I also found them grossly manipulative.

But Trin! Island = unambiguously good, city = unambiguously bad! It's all so simple.

Way too simple, way too easily resolved at the end (especially in, ugh, the epilogue). And I'm not going to get going on the inherent flaw in books about "magical racism," because I'd have to take on, like, all of X-Men, and I like X-Men; I honestly often do like these types of stories. But I will point out that Average Joe Citizen being afraid of a kid who can literally melt your insides, and likes to go around telling people that he's going to melt your insides, is not, very counter to actual racism, an entirely illogical fear.

I can't speak to that adequately at all. So instead of trying, I just want to say one more thing about a subject that is very personal to me.

If you have an eating disorder, this book is triggering as fuck.

Linus is described as overweight. As having a spare tire. As rotund. As round. This is constant--seriously, "round" in particular is used so much--and it comes not just from the narrator (which I suppose could be argued to represent Linus' own opinion of himself) but from tons of other characters, both children and adults. Now, the author clearly means for part of Linus' journey to be that he'll stop seeing his weight as a bad thing, and even as a thing his new love interest likes. But that was not the effect it had on me. To me, it said:

1. Everyone is constantly looking at you and judging your appearance
2. Everyone is entitled to comment on your appearance, even if it makes you uncomfortable
3. Just get over it (hot new boyfriend as mode for getting over it not mandatory but strongly encouraged)

Wow.

Fuck you!

Really enjoyed the anxiety and shame given to me by this escapist fantasy kidfic about combating hate! Great stuff! Loved it!

So yeah, I fully understand why other people enjoyed this book, but like I said, I found it alternately twee and triggering--a combo that's a first for me, I think. And it didn't even make up for these sins with the type of tropey fluff I personally find appealing! I don't think this author is for me.