The House in the Cerulean Sea charmed me to pieces even though I’m not quite sure who the book is for. It’s written almost like a fable for children, with simple language and many heavy-handed explanations of its morals. However, the main character is an adult and themes include grinding bureaucracy and the numbness of everyday life. The book is not a romance novel specifically but it does involve a lovely m/m romance. I recommend it for adults who are young at heart and for kids and teens with old souls.

Our hero, Linus Baker, has spent the last fifteen years as a caseworker for the Department of Magical Youth, which quarantines children with magical powers or qualities into orphanages and schools. His job is to ascertain whether various institutions are being properly run, and he does his job conscientiously and without questioning the Rules and Regulations that drive the department. He lives a gray and lonely life devoid of ambition, passion, or companionship other than that of his cat.

When Linus is assigned to investigate the Marsyas Island Orphanage he loses his poise, followed rapidly by his objectivity. The Orphanage is led by the firm but gentle Arthur Parnassus, with the help of Ms. Chapelwhite, a sprite. The resident children are Talia (a garden gnome), Theodore (a wyvern), Phee (also a sprite), Sal (a boy who shifts into a Pomeranian when frightened) and Chauncey (no one knows WHAT Chauncey is, but he longs to be a bellhop when he grows up). Rounding off the ensemble is Lucy, a charming and intelligent six-year-old whose nickname is short for “Lucifer.” He is, technically, the Antichrist, although, Mr. Parnassus sternly insists, “We don’t use that word here.”

As Linus works on his report, he becomes more and more involved in the lives of the children and their caretakers. The issues of suspense are whether or not Linus will advise his bosses to keep the orphanage open and whether he will choose to stay on the island (he brought his cat with him, as one does) or go back to work for the sake of “duty.” However, the actual storyline is much more about Linus becoming a real, whole person, someone who is able to recognize grey areas, someone who is able to stand up to his employers, and someone who is able to play, laugh, and love.

The book is a quick, easy read that is purely heartwarming. It’s very funny, it’s sometimes genuinely scary, it’s often inspiring, but above all, it’s cuddly. This book is basically a big squishy hug with excellent scenery. Surely I should find it too cutesy (there’s a lot of cuteness) and too heavy-handed in its moralizing (so heavy) and yet my heart just kept growing despite my best efforts to maintain a cynical approach. Many of us here at the Bitchery read it and not one of us who read it could resist its powers. The morals are presented fairly simplistically, very directly, and at length but are nonetheless powerful and certainly timely, and the all-encompassing warmth of the book counteracts the “anvilicious”quality of the morals.

The book is not a romance, but it does include a beautiful romance plotline as Linus falls for Arthur Parnassus, who returns his affections (this is clear to the reader but not, for ages, to Linus, who cannot take a hint). Linus has spent most of his life believing that loving and being loved are simply not possibilities for him – not so much because he is gay but because he would never dare express affection and would never believe himself worthy to receive it:

He’d accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him.

His love for Arthur is a delicate secret thing that when finally allowed to flourish is transformative for them both. This romance is part of the overall theme that everyone needs love, acceptance, and trust, that our fates are not predestined, and that a life well-lived will include taking risks with your body and your time and your heart.

I found this book to be funny and heartbreaking, both perfectly escapist (the island on which the orphanage is located is a paradise) and realist (the issues it deals with are terribly relevant). It’s a quick read that will transport you for a summer afternoon to an island where the food is great, even rainy weather is enjoyable, and the sea is (usually) cerulean. Just don’t expect subtlety. When this book wants you to learn a lesson, it says so, in detailed, out loud, sometimes in capital letters, as in this cute bit of dialog:

“But guess what?”

“What?”

“There was no treasure after all! It was a lie to get you here for your party!”

“Oh. I see. So the real treasure was the friendships we made along the way?”

“You guys are the worst,” Lucy muttered. “The literal worst.”

And in this more serious bit:

“Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to be real monsters. They could be the ones we make up in our heads. Don’t you think that’s weird?”

Yes, I certainly do, and I’m glad to have a book like this to read when it’s just all too much. Like Linus, who was slowly charmed by the world he entered, I loved this story so much that I did not want to leave when it ended.