The House in the Cerulean Sea: Discovering family and life beyond the everyday

TJ Klune’s book has been on my list for a while because I’ve heard such good things about it. I didn’t really know anything about the book, other than it featured a rather isolated man, a house, and a cerulean sea. And it’s touched a lot of people.

Linus Baker is approaching middle age. For the last 17 years he has worked as a caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, investigating orphanages and homes and writing detailed reports about his finding. Keeping himself distanced from emotional entanglements and following the rule book to the letter, Linus is excellent at his job, which is why Extremely Upper Management selects him to investigate one particular orphanage. Armed with thin dossiers and his rule book, Linus heads to Marsyas Island Orphanage to report just how dangerous these highly classified children are. But while the facts catch him completely off guard, nothing could have prepared Linus for meeting the little family at Marsyas. Little by little, Linus finds himself struggling to maintain professional distance and detachment. And maybe, just maybe, that’s a good thing.

I definitely understand why one critic would suggest The House in the Cerulean Sea is 1984 meets Umbrella Academy. I can definitely pick up on those undercurrents, as well as X-Men vibes. Klune weaves a story of acceptance, discovering and creating family, and embracing love. While Linus finds himself attracted to the mysterious headmaster at Marsyas Island Orphanage, their romance isn’t the main point of the story. It was refreshing to have a story where the romance wasn’t the only power behind the movement. Instead, the story was primarily about breaking down barriers, allowing each person to be who they are instead of fearing what is different or even unknown–whether that is powerful magic, unknown species, or LGBTQ love.

I also appreciated the message of encouraging dreams and goals, big and small. The idea that, when you can be whatever you want, whatever you choose is good, is a message that I think can easily get lost behind the “encouragement” to dream big. But finding joy and fulfillment in even a seemingly simple goal is so important in our burned out world.

All in all, The House in the Cerulean Sea was a fun and engaging story. It’s a story of hope for anyone who has been left hurting. Whatever love is missing, Klune’s characters encourage readers to stay open and searching. You never know when and where you’ll find exactly who you’re looking for.

The Night Angel Trilogy: A high fantasy debut that highlights the author’s potential

Brent Weeks has been on my to-read list for a long time (like so many authors and books. There’s just not enough time!), so I was excited to finally nab copies of the first two books in the trilogy. They say possession is nine-tenths of the law, and I think that applies to reading, too. I’m so much more likely to read a book or author when I have it in my possession instead of making time to get it from the library. Anyway…

The Way of Shadows introduces us to Weeks’ world and to Azoth, a young guild rat living a rough life and dreaming of not being afraid. Through a series of traumatic circumstances and a little bit of luck, Azoth gets the chance to turn the tables, being the one feared instead of being the one afraid. But becoming Kylar Stern, assassin for hire, requires him to give up more than he may be willing. As Azoth becomes Kylar and gets deeper into the underworld, he uncovers secrets and political intrigues that will push him to the very end of his own strength. In the end, he will have to make the choice for himself whether selling his talent is worth letting go of any convictions he has.

Shadow’s Edge picks up right at the end of Way of Shadows. With the nation conquered, Kylar has chosen to give up life as a killer for hire and start a new life in a new country. He hopes to settle down with the girl he loves and support the orphan he’s adopted. But the past won’t let Kylar be, and he is quickly drawn back into national politics by the hint that there may still be one man able to unite and lead the scattered rebellion against the invaders. But to honor that loyalty, Kylar will have to give up everything he holds dear, maybe forever. Unable to ignore the call of destiny, Kylar takes the gamble, never imagining how it would play out.

Beyond the Shadows finds Kylar facing some of the hardest decisions yet. With his country free from its oppressive ruler, Kylar longs to see his friend take his rightful place as king. But Logan has sworn fealty to the queen and his honor won’t let him break the vow. To see things set right, Kylar must once again sacrifice everything he has left. Meanwhile, in the north, a new king has risen in the tumultuous kingdom. As the nations prepare for battle and to end the war, secrets will be revealed and integrity tested. In the end, not everyone will be able to win.

Weeks takes the approach of dropping readers into an established world. While I prefer this approach to using the entire first book building the world and establishing the characters, I will say that things felt a little choppy and disconnected, especially jumping in time to take Azoth from a young child to a grown man in the first book. In the second and third books, Elene’s story felt largely neglected, dropping her from place to place whenever she was needed to move the story on.

Throughout the trilogy, Weeks gathers up threads of stories and attempts to weave it all together. And while the series was enjoyable, I don’t feel like the quite mastered bringing it all together. A handful of unresolved threads and hints come to mind. But for a debut series, and a complex one at that, I think Weeks did a good job.

I am curious to read more of Weeks’s work, at some point, to see how he has developed as a writer since this trilogy. Despite the occasional immature or casual tone of the writing, I did enjoy reading these books.

The Last Child: A story that unravels itself

John Hart weaves a lot of threads and ideas into The Last Child. Touching on some different cultures and historical context, the story is complex but also feels a little shallow at points.

It’s been a year since Johnny Merrimon’s twin sister disappeared, abducted off the street while walking home from the library one evening. Johnny’s life has fallen apart during the year–his father walked out on them, unable to bear his guilty feelings; his mom has spiraled down into drugs, drinking, and reliance on an unkind landlord. But Johnny isn’t willing to let go of the hope of finding his twin alive, and he’s willing to do anything to find her.

Detective Clyde Hunt is also haunted by the disappearance and the young girl he couldn’t save. His own life has fallen apart in the wake of his failure, and he is desperate for a chance at redemption and a way to help the Merrimons. When another girl disappears and a rash of violent deaths are uncovered, both Johnny and Hunt are convinced they are connected and no risk is too great to finally get answers and closure.

The first thing to note is that The Last Child deals with abuse (physical and substance) and also sexual violence against adults and children. Many readers may find these topics heavy and/or triggering, so this book isn’t for all readers. That said, Hart doesn’t go into great detail about the traumas within his book. He manages to convey the horror without specifics, making it a little less challenging to read, despite the subject matter.

I found the book to be engaging, weaving the different characters together and leading readers through the investigation. However, the final reveal did seem to be a little out in left field. Other than one or two little hints, there didn’t seem to be many indicators. And while I knew better than to believe the obvious trail, I still like there to be clues that point to the real truth. Perhaps Hart wrote it this way to show how challenging it can be to investigate, how following the evidence can lead to a different conclusion.

What I’m unsure of in this book (and please note this is a bit of a spoiler, even though I won’t give details) is how the whole storyline was made moot by the way Hart ended The Last Child. While they accomplished a lot through their mistaken understanding of the case, the truth turned out to have nothing to do with any of it. I find this a little challenging. We wouldn’t have this story if the truth had been revealed right away. I’m probably overthinking it, but it just sits kind of funny.

To conclude, the book was interesting and moved at a fast pace, but it wasn’t really my favorite. It’s hard to read about traumatized children and I’ve accidentally read a couple such books lately (accidental because I didn’t realize they would focus so much on young teens drinking and smoking and mostly neglected). I can see John Hart’s writing skill and perhaps one day I’ll give another of his books a try.

The Song of Achilles: Homer expounded

I’ve heard nothing but praise of Madeline Miller’s novels and while Circe has been on my list of books to read, The Song of Achilles made the list mostly because of book club. Expounding on the characters of Patroclus and, obviously, Achilles, it paints a story of love and loyalty in the midst of brutality.

Patroclus is an exiled prince fostered in Phithia when he meets Achilles. Though frosty toward each other at first, the two young princes grow attached to each other quickly. Nothing can separate them– not Thetis, mother of Achilles and a sea nymph; not Achilles being sent away to train with the centaur Chiron; not even war in the distant city of Troy. Drawn toward his prophesied death by the promise of fame and glory, Achilles leads Patroclus to meet a fate neither one of them foresaw.

Though easier to get through than Homer’s work, The Song of Achilles takes most of the book to get to the action. It is, first and foremost, a love story and not an action story. And while some people may take issue with Miller’s romance between Patroclus and Achilles, a quick bit of research shows that this is actually a widely accepted interpretation of the story.

Miller’s prose and writing is beautiful and evocative, almost making the reader forget that the story is meandering along slowly toward its foregone conclusion. Readers are given a vulnerable glimpse inside the mind of a boy spurned by his father and invisible to others, only to find acknowledgment (and love) from the one destined to be the greatest of his time.

And while I enjoyed seeing the story unfold from Patroclus’s perspective, I didn’t love how Miller made him so weak. Instead of a warrior in his own right, her version of Patroclus was a needy, clingy, cowardly boy-turned-man who fought only when his conscience couldn’t take any more, and who found skill in the heat of battle only right before he died. And while the 2004 film Troy takes a lot of liberties on its own, I do believe it captured the spirit of Patroclus better than Miller did (at least from what I remember of The Iliad, which is honestly not tons because it was such as slog). While Achilles grows and navigates the grey spaces of life, Miller’s Patroclus remains disappointingly stagnant.

All in all, I can see why the book is so acclaimed, and I do agree that Miller has a beautiful writing style that draws the reader in and along. And while she took an interesting approach to the story of Achilles and Patroclus, I’m not sure it was altogether successful for my taste.

Final Girls: Part slasher, part thriller, fully engaging

Riley Sager’s Final Girls is sort of a horror thriller book, taking some elements of slasher films and weaving them into a twisting story that leaves you wondering who can be trusted and who is lying.

Quincy Carpenter the third final girl, the only survivor of a horrible multiple-murder that killed all her closest friends. Ten years later, she’s coping as best as she can, suppressing her memories, popping Xanax, and baking away her feelings. She relies on her boyfriend, Jeff, and Coop, the cop who found her running bloody through the woods.

But when the first final girl turns up dead and the second final girl shows up at Quincy’s house, suppressing the past quickly becomes more difficult. All Quincy wants is to move forward and leave all of the past behind, but as she’s pushed closer toward her buried memories, Quincy can’t ignore how unreliable her story begins to seem.

While Sager definitely took the unreliable narrator approach, it was done in quite a different way than many of the style’s predecessors. Even as I knew not to completely believe Quincy’s perspective, I was kept guessing as to the truth behind everything. The final twist wasn’t quite what I expected, though looking back I can see how the story moved steadily to the the final reveal.

I appreciated how Sager had each of her final girls handling their experiences differently. Each girl coped in different ways with varying degrees of success. It felt more realistic, recognizing that trauma affects people differently and there’s no one right way to move forward (though certainly there are some wrong ways, and we get glimpses of those).

Though I’m not really one for horror and slasher stories, I found this one engaging and twisty enough to let me get past the classic poor decisions that led to the gristly demise in the first place. A first-person narrative interspersed with flashbacks to Quincy’s trauma, the story moves along at a quick pace while slowly revealing the truth to readers. All in all, an engaging story and great for those who like thrillers, horror, and suspense stories.