The House in the Cerulean Sea

I picked this book up at Barnes and Noble on a whim, the pink clouds and playful cliff catching my eye while I was on my way over to the kids' workbooks. The copy I came across has a different quote across the top than the one in this picture: "'I love it. It is like being wrapped up in a big gay blanket. Simply perfect.' -- V.E. Schwab." I mean, it may have been 85°F outside, but I'm not going to say no to a big gay blanket.

This book is a delightful fairy tale, set in a world where the most fantastical wonders are grounded right back to earth by the forms and procedures and bureaucratic nonsense that humans can't help but build around the messy edges of our lives. When we can't understand something, we are compelled to control it. And control should be documented in triplicate and filed down the hall.

The story itself is about family and love and community, and it is sweet and definitely the "big gay blanket" mentioned from the cover. But the parts of the book that linger most with me are the scenes where characters are called out for focuses just on their part of the process. They are just responsible for what they know and the forms that go to it, and once those are submitted, the process moves forward. It's someone else's responsibility. Best to focus on doing one's own steps with the most kindness and care--that is enough to be good, right? When does a person have a moral imperative to look up from their task list and see the inhumane outputs of the system they are in? And what should they do with this knowledge?

This, of course, snagged my attention because it what I have been picking at for years. How do I balance doing as much good in my locus of control while not losing sight of the problems with the bigger picture? I have to admit, the last there years of my own moving and job change and pandemic life has left me feeling helpless in a way I never have before. There is a guilt that chases me when I try to start looking up again at the world, calling me out for never doing enough, for ever daring to take my eye off the far horizon. I really needed the gentleness of this book as I wrestle with these issues. The characters hold one another accountable, but always with a depth of compassion and understanding that somehow ends up being the most far-fetched part of a book that includes fairies and the antichrist. I have a stack of books lined up to read at the moment. But I suspect if life gets stressful or the news gets to be too much, I'm going to wrap myself up in this blanket one more time.