The House in the Cerulean Sea is an enchanting love story, masterfully told, about the profound experience of discovering an unlikely family in an unexpected place—and realizing that family is yours. 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?!) 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 , 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. Maybe I just find the idea of fantasy heroes being no different from you and I to be appealing, and can identify better with a protagonist who is only able to do things that I can do. Maybe I enjoy the subversion as a sort of rebellion against the species of overpowered adolescent Chosen Ones who overpopulate the fantasy stories of my youth. Or maybe I am just getting old. Whatever it is, I find it amusing that when I was younger, heroes are the people I want to be and now, in my thirties, I want heroes to be like me. Both, in their own ways, are different forms of wish fulfillment.

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. 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? Management hires him for a top secret mission: they want him to investigate Marysas Island Orphanage where six extremely dangerous kids reside: a gnome, a wyvern, an unidentifiable green blob, a were-Pomeranian, a sprite and an baby Lucy Morningstar! 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? I was drawn in by the promise of an all-female sapphic society where each girl has three mothers. This was a big selling point for me, but what the author does with this atypical premise is... strange. She has Sera, one of the protagonists, discover that she is the only straight girl in her society.

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A home isn't always the house we live in. It's also the people we choose to surround ourselves with." Klune, TJ (2014). The Art of Breathing. Dreamspinner Press. ISBN 978-1-62798-925-1. OCLC 892707353.

Jaroudi, Iman. "Queer Joy and the Politics of Storytelling: An Interview with author TJ Klune" . Retrieved February 19, 2021. a b "Winners of the 26th Annual Lambda Literary Awards Announced". Lambda Literary Foundation. June 3, 2014 . Retrieved February 19, 2021. Klune has been open about his lived experiences with asexuality, queerness and neurodiversity, and how they influence his writing. The historical absence of these communities in fiction has motivated choices in Klune's character development. [4] [5]Arthur Parnassus is the master of the orphanage. He would do anything to keep the children safe, even if it means the world will burn. And his secrets will come to light. Cerulean is inert with good light resistance, and it exhibits a high degree of stability in both watercolor and acrylic. [11] She nodded slowly. “I think so? I haven’t hurt anyone since I was brought here.” Her mouth twisted down. “Not until Marcus. I don’t like hurting people.”

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. This contemporary fantasy can satisfy any sweet tooth with its found family story and its gentle queer romance." — Book Riot Sera Lighthaven has always felt as if she didn’t quite belong among her people, the Cerulean, who live in the City Above the Sky. She is curious about everything—especially the planet that her City is magically tethered to—and can’t stop questioning things. Sera has always longed for the day when the tether will finally break and the Cerulean can move to a new planet. It remained fuzzy until I stumbled across the Sixties Scoop, something I’d never heard of before, something I’d never been taught in school (I’m American, by the way). In Canada, beginning in the 1950s and continuing through the 1980s, indigenous children were taken from their homes and families and placed into government-sanctioned facilities, such as residential schools. The goal was for primarily white, middle-class families across Canada, the US, and even Europe—to adopt these children. It’s estimated that over 20,000 indigenous children were taken, and it wasn’t until 2017 that the families of those affected reached a financial settlement with the Canadian government totaling over eight hundred million dollars." Linus Baker leads a quiet life. At forty, he has a tiny house with a devious cat and his beloved records for company. And at the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, he's spent many dull years monitoring their orphanages.bella's review here and this bit from thefourthvine's review highlights some of my biggest issues with this book: Is it possible to fall in love with someone’s imagination? If so, consider me fully smitten. TJ Klune creates worlds where fear and threat can be conquered by kindness, and a tender, queer heart is more valuable than any weapon or power.” —David Levithan