The House in the Cerulean Sea: a Review

TLDR: 5/5 stars, a thrilling, heartwarming, magical story. Incredible work, highly recommended.

Nothing short of magical. Heartwarming, sweet, cozy, very much aching. This book had everything a book like this should have, and then some. I didn’t know it had queer characters when I started—or, I did, a long time ago, but forgot—so it was a pleasant surprise. Though I’ve written a queer novel myself, I haven’t read all that many of them. And this, though the queer part is only a small and natural part of it, was great. I didn't expect much when going into this story––it'd sat on my shelf for a while, it looked fun enough, but I was simply never in the mood. There were other books to read, and other things to do. But hell, am I glad I picked this book up. And even more glad to have seen that it is a series of two books, so my agony when finishing this gem of a book was only short-lived.

The house in the Cerulean Sea is a story of an orphanage for magical children, ran by Arthur Parnassus, that is being investigated by Linus Baker, to see if the children are safe and the orphanage is a good one. Linus is expected to send a report every week for a month while he lives there to inspect. What he doesn’t know beforehand, is that these children are different; one of them is the “anti christ”. Yet, slowly but surely, he grows to care for them and the orphanage—and for its keeper, Arthur.

I love this story. The writing was fantastic, and the characters were very well developed. The plot was interesting, the magic system was good, the atmosphere was built wonderfully. It felt like I was right there with them, which can be difficult to accomplish in writing. What I similarly hadn't expected was the cozy feeling to this story. There was conflict, but it was never something that could not or was not fixed. It was a nice change from the novels with bitter endings or awfully long miscommunication stretches. It made me feel good, and though I let a few tears drop, they were tears of hapiness. Maybe even of longing for something similar, or of having found those kinds of people in my own life. I've found that I'm a very emotional reader, much unlike the other parts of my life. I have never cried so much as I have when reading, and I think it's a good way to get them out of my system––because tears carry all sorts of things out of your body, leaving you feeling better. So while I'm writing this review right after finishing the book and I may thus still be on a high from that very thing, do trust me when I say this is a good book.

This cast of characters was unique, and each had their own voice. Their backgrounds were written well and all rather tragic. It reminded me of miss Peregrine’s home for peculiar children, though at the same time vastly different. The author writes in such a way that you can't help but grow to care for them, too, at the same time that Linus does. And there is no shortage of characters to get to know and love. Sal, the shapeshifter who shifts into a Pomeranian, is a writer and poet who types away on a typewriter––well, as a writer myself, naturally I liked him. But Talia, Phee, Lucy, all the others are great characters, too.

The main character was very compelling, and his character arc was one I hoped to see from the start, and I was cheering him on as he went. I lived vicariously through him when he spent his time in and around the orphanage. I did not necessarily see myself in him, but he was written in a way that was very accessible regardless, like the author meant for us as readers to live vicariously through him. There was no distance from us to Linus, and I appreciated that. It made the story feel more alive. I liked where his character ended up, and I'm very happy for him, if not slightly jealous.

Furthermore, I liked the child-like whimsy that was added to it. Since it's set in an orphanage for the larger part of the story, and a lot of the characters are children, it makes sense, but it was still nice to see. Often in books like these, there is more of a sense of urgency and dread for the children. There were their awful pasts, yes, but they were allowed to be kids, and Arthur, and Linus too, fiercely protected their right to be kids, no matter how "odd" they were considered to be to normal folks. I really liked that. They went on adventures, though these were to no harm of the kids and purely make-belief. They were allowed to dream of future careers, they were allowed free time to explore what they wanted to, and do what they craved. All in a peaceful, stimulating environment. That is so rare a thing. The real struggles were for the adults to handle, and they did so marvelously. They were scared sometimes, but they handled them. It was such a healthy place to grow up in, I loved to see it. If nothing else will stay with me from this story but that fact, that'd be enough to pick the book up again.

I think this may very well become one of those books that you can't help but revisit every now and again. Like a refuge to hide for a while, when in need of a quick break from reality. For now, though, I'm stoked about getting to the second book. Let's hope it's a worthy sequel to this phenomenal story.

I wish I, too, could go back home to the House in the Cerulean Sea.