Little Dragon

 

The House in the Cerulean Sea


Tor
Fiction, Fantasy
Themes: Alternate Earths, Avians, Canids, Demons, Diversity, Dragons, Fables, Faeries and Kin, Fantasy Races, Felines, Girl Power, Schools and Institutions, Shapeshifters
****+

Description

40-year-old Linus Baker is everything a good caseworker at the Department in Charge of Magical Youth should be: observant, objective, adherent to the 900-plus-page Rules and Regulations volume that outlines what is and is not his concern, and utterly without a personal life, unless his cat Calliope counts. He tells himself he doesn't mind the loneliness, that he hasn't time for a boyfriend anyway - but he also tells himself he's happy in his tiny drab home, sitting at his tiny drab desk, living in a city so dreary the sun hasn't made an appearance in his memory. But at least he helps the magical children in his caseload where he can.
When Linus finds himself summoned to Extremely Upper Management, he's sure he's been sacked, though for what he cannot imagine: nobody writes a more thorough report. Instead, he is sent to inspect an orphanage run by one Arthur Parnassus, a classified place where only the strangest and most dangerous of magical children are sent, from the tentacled sea creature Chauncey to the boy Lucy, the literal Antichrist. For one month, Linus is to live in a guest house on Arthur's island and give his assessment of conditions and of the master himself. He's sure this job will be the death and damnation of him... but what he finds in the house on the cerulean sea is not at all what he expected, and what he learns will shake him and his understanding of the world to the core.

Review

I've read nothing but praise for this book, so I had very high hopes going into it. Those hopes were met more or less across the board in this fairy tale for grown-ups set in an alternate-modern world where magical creatures are segregated and shunned. Linus is the typical bureaucrat, if one who actually cares about his job; he shows great concern for the welfare of the magical children, for all that he still believes in the mission of DICOMY and doesn't think to question why none of the kids in these "orphanages" are ever adopted or what happens to them when they grow up. Indeed, he points out how much better things are now than they used to be, when magical beings were openly hunted down, to near-extinction in some cases. On a personal level, he's sad and lonely and utterly miserable, but he rationalizes away his every nonconformist impulse. Once outside of the city, though, surrounded by the blue of the sea and colors he'd forgotten existed, Linus can't hide from reality or himself so easily, though of course he isn't transformed overnight. A colorful cast of characters comes to life around him, from the emotionally dented children to the mistrustful villagers to Arthur himself, who has a secret that could destroy the orphanage if it comes to light. Linus constantly struggles to regain his old, boxed-in worldview, but the walls keep collapsing as fast as he tries to rebuild them. The whimsical tone is bright and colorful, if with some dark edges and truths swimming in the depths, and the tale has a hopeful tone that change is possible. The ending feels slightly drawn out, but is a near-perfect conclusion. The House in the Cerulean Sea is an optimistic fairy tale, the perfect antidote for a genre that has skewed a little dark in recent years.

 

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Under the Whispering Door


Tor
Fiction, Fantasy
Themes: Canids, Diversity, Fables, Ghosts
****

Description

By the measures of his profession, lawyer William Price is an unqualified success. Sure, he sacrificed his marriage, his friends, and any frivolities like joy or leisure, but he built his own law firm from the ground up, and nobody in his office fails to fear his gaze. It takes dying for him to realize that, while he may have succeeded at law, he failed at truly living. Collected from his funeral by the eccentric Reaper woman Mei, William is brought to a small mountain village and a tea shop called Charon's Crossing to meet his ferryman, the mortal charged with helping him make the transition to the other side: the handsome Hugo Freeman. Here, away from his job and the city and the cold existence he built for himself, the former lawyer finally learns what it means to live... and to love. But he cannot linger forever; there is a door on the fourth floor of the tea shop that whispers to him of what is to come - a passage he cannot avoid forever, even when he finally discovers a reason to stay on Earth.

Review

First off, the official description for this book is way off. It mentions plot points that don't come up until the final fourth or so of the tale, and set up false expectations for the story as a whole. Secondly, this is the second book by Klune I've read... and I can't help but think I would've enjoyed it more had it been first. Like The House in the Cerulean Sea, it starts with a man firmly entrenched in an inherently heartless bureaucracy, one who doesn't think to question the emptiness of his life or the machinery he perpetuates, until he travels to a remote location where a kindly, handsome eccentric and other colorful locals teach him the true meaning of life and love. William, however, is initially a far less likable main character, a man who hasn't been so much numbed to his heart as one who willfully sliced it out as a potential impediment to his career and doesn't think to question his choice until it's literally too late. He overreacts to his situation terribly, far past the point of caricature, and stays in surly denial far too long, making his transition a little hard to swallow. Side characters could be irritating on occasion, too, as could the repetitious Lessons about the meaning of life and the afterlife and what makes living worthwhile, which make the story itself feel overlong and slow as it wends slowly between plot points on its way to the stuff teased by the official description and cover blurb. It does ultimately come together, with some sweet and sobering moments along the way, and barely pulled out of its drifting freefall enough to avoid losing another half-star, but I must say I expected a little more after the high bar set by The House in the Cerulean Sea.

 

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