The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune: Something More Nuanced Than Separating the Art from the Artist | Book Review

In all honesty, I wasn’t sure it was ever going to happen. Since reading the Six of Crows duology last fall, I wasn’t convinced that there’d ever be another book for me. Dramatic, of course, but what can I say? It’s hard to say that this book took me by surprise when all I knew of it were glittering reviews, but this didn’t come without a bit of a quandary. More nuanced than a “separate the art from the artist” situation, it was a tad difficult to gather my thoughts on this one, but I’ll do my best to sort it out here.

Started Reading – April 12, 2022

Finished Reading – April 18, 2022

Rating: 5 stars.

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In one of my favorite types of stories (a bunch of special children in a lovely house with a peculiar headmaster/guardian), we see Linus Baker, a punctilious caseworker in the employ of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, plucked up from the monotonous seventeen years of office work and standard assignments when Extremely Upper Management summons him. It is there that he is given a highly-classified assignment: for a month he is to investigate the workings of a secluded orphanage of six unusual and potentially dangerous children, as well as their caretaker, who may or may not be a fit guardian. It is his job to determine if Marsyas Island Orphanage, in the middle of the stunning cerulean sea, meets the qualifications to continue on.

This story oozes infinite charm, to the point where it should be saccharine and unappetizing, but somehow manages to keep itself quaint and palatable. I hate to use the word “quirky”, especially in this day and age of internet and pop culture, but both the writing style and general content of the story line up with it very well. It’s eclectic and endearing, and I couldn’t find anything to dislike about it.

However, this is where the controversy comes in.

Among the raving reviews of this comforting read, a potentially troubling fact arose in the conversation. In an interview, TJ Klune says:

[…] 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.

I researched more, and discovered instances the world over, in my own country and abroad, of the same thing happening: families being separated because they were different, because of the color of their skin, because of their faith, because those in power were scared of them. I wrote The House in the Cerulean Sea in the spring of 2018, months later, in the summer, news exploded from our southern border about families searching for a better life being separated and put into government-sanctioned facilities.

The Big Idea: TJ Klune

When brought up in the reviewing circles, this did not go over well.

The Goodreads page for this novel houses important discussions on the history that Klune took “inspiration” from and seemingly reworked for a novel that sugarcoats deeply upsetting events, something laced with trauma and abuse of power, all in relation to the compromised safety and wellbeing of children, in a marginalized group at that.

I was not familiar with this history until I read about it in these reviews, and have since looked into it outside of that too. I’m not sure when I would’ve learned about this topic outside of the discussion here, so for that, I am grateful.

However, this book is absolutely not a teaching tool for this history. It is written by someone who has no attachment to this event, or anything similar to it either. This is important and necessary to acknowledge.

This review is neither defending nor disregarding the author or his intentions in writing this novel, because it is not my place. I am not a survivor of anything like the people affected by the Sixties Scoop and similar happenings, and I want nothing more than to hear those people and learn from them to take steps toward a better world. It is never my intention to trivialize those issues or speak over those harmed by such things from my place of privilege and ignorance.

The next paragraph of the previously cited article reads:

Let me be up front about something: I’m a white dude. There really isn’t much I should be preaching about. I’m queer, and a loud one at that, but the marginalization I’ve faced because of this isn’t to be compared to others facing bigotry. It’s not a contest. It sucks across the board, but I’m a mid-thirties cis man in America. I’m privileged in ways others are not. I know this, so when I wrote Cerulean, I knew I had to do so carefully, to make sure that what I’d decided on to be the central theme of the story wouldn’t be lost.

That central theme?

Kindness.

The Big Idea: TJ Klune

Whether or not this story was something Klune had the right to tell, I wonder if there is any misrepresentation here. In reading this article, I was led to believe that this story is not truly taking “inspiration” from this horrible history and reworking it for the sake of his own art. Instead, the author seems to note repeated discrimination throughout history and, from his view, saw the underlying lack of kindness, and wanted to give that overall ideal a place to live within the pages of this book. This novel is not a retelling of these events, and as previously mentioned, not precisely a teaching tool either (though much can be learned through the conversations surrounding it). It seems the heart of this story is not about extenuating the traumatic history of events like the Sixties Scoop, but rather the (though vastly oversimplified) ever fervent desire for goodness in the world. This story’s gaze is absolutely starry-eyed, but I think it’s separate from the history Klune learned about, rather than directly inspired by it.

With that being said, what does this mean for reading and appreciating this story? Regardless of his intentions, people were hurt, and that matters.

My answer is that I have no idea. I enjoyed the story as it stands alone, and I recognize the what and why of the controversy surrounding it, leaving me and other readers unsure of what to make of it all. I don’t know if it’s wrong to appreciate this story. In writing this piece, it’s difficult to reach a conclusion, because it’s not mine to make. Where I’ve settled on a personal level is that both things can be true, this can be a well-written, lovable book of charm and kindness, and still, be a source of hurt and recognized as repackaging someone else’s trauma. Perhaps the bottom line is to not turn a blind eye to the latter example. Perhaps it’s that this story is stripped of everything because of it. What do you think?

Have you read, or do you plan on reading The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune? Did you like it? Why, or why not? What are your thoughts on the issue detailed in this review? What do you think we should do with this, and where do we go from here? I’d love to hear your thoughts below.