Monsters in Humanity & Humanity in Monsters

While reading The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune, I attempted to take a step back and look at the words on the page, more so than the general narrative. Given that this book felt like it was tailored specifically to my tastes in literature, it was difficult to avoid getting sucked into the story. Multiple times I found myself having to go back and reread pages so I could notice the mechanisms at play in the narrative, which ultimately helped me better understand how I was being sucked in. My goal was to discover how the text participates in its genres, and to locate the semic code embedded in the narrative.

Fantasy Genre: Good vs. Evil

When purchasing this book, the first thing I noticed was the genres: LGBT humorous fiction and LGBT fantasy fiction. I personally am a lover of fiction, specifically fantasy and as a gay man I always love to see some representation in my favorite genres. This book, however, is unlike any other that I’ve read. While I’ve read over one hundred fantasy novels, only once was the narrator a gay man. This presented me with a unique challenge: How can I discover how the book conforms to its genre if there is hardly anything else like it? Well it seems that the only difference between LGBT fantasy fiction, and “regular” fantasy fiction is that the main character is gay (side note, do they really need an entire subgenre when a character is gay? Why is straight the norm?) 

So rather than dwelling on the LGBT aspect of the book, I tried to look at the fantasy genre at play. According to Jane Gallop in “The Ethics of Reading: Close Encounters,” “Those things which conform to our expectations are things which resemble what we have read before, things where we have learned what to expect. English teachers call this similarity ‘genre’” (10-11). From my knowledge of fantasy fiction, this means that the book will have magical or other supernatural elements as well as magical creatures that are present throughout the setting and plot. Luckily for me, The House in the Cerulean Sea follows this genre trait expertly. The entire story focuses on Linus, a caseworker in the Department in Charge of Magical Youth (DICOMY), who is given a classified assignment to investigate an orphanage that houses six magical children who are considered dangerous. This obviously checks off many of the fantasy genre’s boxes when it comes to conventions. 

Based on my understanding of the plots within the fantasy genre, very often “good” wins in the end, after the main character undergoes a transformation and defeats “evil.” This knowledge helped me predict that Linus, who is at first presented as a by-the-book caseworker with naive optimism about his role in the various lives of the magical children he visits, would eventually come to realize that the very organization he was working for had been causing more harm than good. The book does indeed cause Linus to question his decisions up until that point, and he eventually rebels against DICOMY and finds his family among the very magical creatures he was meant to be investigating. The “good” side makes great strides by the end of the novel, and DICOMY begins to change its ways thanks to Linus’ actions and words. 

Semic Code: Light vs. Dark

One of the first things I noticed when I reread certain passages of this book was that the semic code blends in very naturally to the plot. According to Kaja Silverman in “Re-Writing the Classic Text,” chapter six of The Subject of Semiotics, the semic code “represents the major device for thematizing persons, objects, or places. It operates by grouping a number of signifiers around either a proper name or another signifier which functions temporarily as if it were a proper name” (251).

My first most obvious encounter with the semic code was early on in the book involving Linus’ supervisor Ms. Jenkins. Several times throughout chapter two, and again very late in the book, we see Ms. Jenkins through Linus’ eyes: “she was a stern woman, hair pulled back so severely that it brought her unibrow up to the middle of her forehead. He wondered every now and then if she had ever smiled in her life. He thought not. Ms. Jenkins was a dour woman with the disposition of an ornery snake” (Klune 17), “she appeared to have applied her makeup rather liberally in the dark without the benefit of a mirror. The heavy rouge on her cheeks was magenta, and her lipstick looked like blood” (Klune 19), “she was thin as a dream, made up of sharp bones covered in skin stretched too tightly” (Klune 19), “Her fingernails were painted black, and she tapped them against the wood. It sounded like the rattling of bones” (Klune 22). We’re clearly able to envision the type of supervisor Ms. Jenkins is, and the cruelty she exudes. 

The semic code plays a large role in characterizing the different magical children and the adults caring for them, but one more subtle example of the semic code was at play throughout the entire book, and it followed Linus like a shadow. I noticed early on that the city, where Linus worked, was characterized as gray, cold, and a place where the rain never stopped. This hints at Linus’ current life—colorless, bland, wasted. When he encounters the sunny island and the Cerulean Sea, the beauty astounds him. This contrast was a conscious choice by Klune, showing the contrast between the life Linus was living, and the life he could have. When Linus returns to the city, after having spent a month with the children and their caretaker Arthur, the never-ending gray of his dull life bothers him more than ever. 

This light and dark imagery is used many times throughout the book, especially in many scenes where someone has knowledge that Linus lacks. When Linus is first given his assignment, he has to walk through a dark room. Eventually he encounters the four members of Extremely Upper Management, “then, as if a switch had been flipped, more lights began to glow above him, shining up into the faces of four people” (Klune 39). I believe that this was to further drive home the fact that they had knowledge of the case they were assigning him that Linus lacked. Before he leaves the room, after the lights have gone out, they suddenly come back on: “a light switched back on at the top of the wall. He blinked up at it. Mr. Werner stared down at him, a curious expression on his face. The others were already gone” (Klune 45). In this scene Mr. Werner has background knowledge about the case that he neglects to tell Linus, which is why he is bathed in light, while Linus is left in the dark. 

Another character often bathed in light was Zoe, an island sprite who assisted Arthur at the orphanage. “A woman peered down at him, silhouetted by the sun” (Klune 56), “Her hair sat like a white fluffy cloud atop her head . . . it must have been a trick of the bright sunlight” (Klune 57), “Her wings were sparkling in the sunlight” (Klune 138). Zoe is privy to knowledge about the goodness of Arthur and the children, who Linus has not met yet. She is very often presented as the wise character. In a later scene where she is dropping Linus off at the train station, the imagery helps convey the situation on a deeper level. “The stars were disappearing as the sun started to rise. Linus could hear the distant crashing of the waves as Zoe turned off the car” (Klune 338). At this moment, Linus is beginning to question whether he is making the right choice in leaving the island and returning home to the city as he was assigned. The rising sun represents Linus’ newfound knowledge, but his inability to go the extra mile and stay with Arthur and the children.

My favorite example of the enlightenment of other characters contrasting with Linus’ inability to face the truth is in the scenes where Arthur and Linus discuss the cruelty of the world. “He was pleasantly surprised to find Mr. Parnassus standing on the porch of the guest house, looking windswept and warm in the afternoon sunlight” (Klune 142), “Mr. Parnassus’s eyes sparkled in the failing sunlight” (Klune 162). In a moment where Linus begins to question if DICOMY is truly helping the magical youth, Arthur offers a realistic opinion that startles Linus: “Arthur turned his face toward the canopy of the forest. A shaft of sunlight had pierced the leaves and limbs, and illuminated his face. He looked ethereal. ‘Human experts,’ he repeated. ‘Not a single magical person had any say in the creation of that tome. Every word came from the hand and mind of a human’” (Klune 177).

Later when Linus discovers that Arthur is a Phoenix, not just a normal human man, he realizes how deeply the family has impacted his life: “It pulled at him, and he thought of how his world had been cold and wet and gray until he’d come here. It felt like he was seeing in color for the first time” (Klune 289). His newfound happiness and knowledge has made him enlightened as well. We even see it later on when he struggles with his knowledge: “He had known his place in the world, though every now and then, the dark clouds parted with a ray of sunshine in the form of a question he barely allowed himself to ponder” (Klune 293). Arthur mentions that “it’s time to step from the shadows and into the light” (Klune 315) when discussing exposing the magical children to the world so they can become accustomed to the humans. When Linus finally begins to accept his romantic feelings towards Arthur, Arthur whispers in his ear “Smile and maybe tomorrow you’ll see the sun come shining through for you” (Klune 331). 

I encountered numerous examples of the semic code throughout The House in the Cerulean Sea which helped me better understand the conscious decisions that the author must’ve made when creating the scenes and storyline. It added a new depth to the book that I hadn’t expected. 

Conclusion: Bathed in Light

Through reading this book and looking at the various ways it conformed to the genre, and the semic code that was deeply embedded into the story, I was able to understand the novel on a different level. Rather than just reading for the experience, I was able to appreciate the thoughtful craft that went into writing the novel, which essentially enlightened me similarly to Linus. I think reading in this unique way can open up the secrets of the text and allow the carefully placed literary devices to shine through.  

2 thoughts on “Monsters in Humanity & Humanity in Monsters

  1. I wanted to take time to further develop one of the genre tags this book is defined as: LGBT Humorous Fiction. When I bought this book, I didn’t think much about the humorous factors that would be included. I was more interested in the fact that the book was fantasy and included LGBT representation. I was looking for a light hearted story but found so much more through this book. I had never read any book before this one that was considered part of the humorous genre (I know right, isn’t that weird?!). To my surprise, the humor included was a lot of self deprecation on the main character, Linus’ part. This is the type of humor I find myself most drawn to, making the book even more enjoyable for me as a reader. One phrase, repeated throughout the book by Linus, forced a chuckle out of me almost every time it was said, “Oh dear,” (Klune 26). Linus often uses this phrase to bring to light the anxiety he is feeling about a situation. There is something about the bluntness of this phrase that makes me laugh along with Linus as he struggles through the hardest days of his horrible job.

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