Andy Young: Five thumbs, four of them up

By Andy Young

Not long ago I was coming home from work when I ran into one of my favorite people walking along the country lane I was navigating.

I’d like this person even if we didn’t have so much in common. We’re neighbors, we both have three children, we’re both educators, and we share similar views on various contemporary issues. It was a beautiful afternoon, and since the street corner where our paths crossed wasn’t heavily traveled, we enjoyed an impromptu visit.

We chatted about the beautiful weather, caught up on the doings of our respective families, then compared notes on the start of the school year.

From there we moved on to the topic of books, at which point my neighbor told me I must read a work of fiction called The House in the Cerulean Sea. Its messages, she told me, are ones everyone should hear. Her recommendation was made with an uncommon amount of zeal, even for someone who is by nature enthusiastic. I wrote down the name of the book and the author (T. J. Klune), then wished her well and moved on. But for reasons I still don’t fully understand, her last four words (“Everyone should read it!”) remained etched in my memory.

I didn’t want to disappoint my friend/neighbor, but the truth is I don’t read much fiction. Tastes vary in literature, just as they do when it comes to food. I intensely dislike parmesan cheese and feel similarly about turnips, yet others enjoy those things. Conversely, I love stewed tomatoes, which others detest. For me fiction, particularly the fantasy genre, is particularly pungent cheese. I would never tell my sweet, kind neighbor I wasn’t going to read what she had complimented so ardently, but I already had a stack of books nearly as tall as I am in the “to be read” queue.

However, the next day a student in one of my Grade 12 English classes who sports a significant amount of metallic facial jewelry arrived at school carrying a copy of the very book my neighbor had lavished praise on. When I asked about it the response was another rave review, along with four suddenly familiar words: “Everyone should read it.”

Later I asked another avid bibliophile if they’d heard of The House in the Cerulean Sea. The instant reply: an appreciative grin, and an aside about how much they loved one of the book’s more memorable characters.

Endorsements from three unrelated individuals in a short period of time cannot be coincidence, so I went to the library, found a copy of the book, and perused the synopsis on the back cover.

The words I read didn’t describe subject matter I’d have chosen on my own. In fact, to me they vaguely brought to mind something along the lines of literary Parmesan. But remembering my neighbor’s zeal, the bejeweled student’s endorsement, and the voracious reader’s genuine appreciation, I decided to give it a try.

Four days and 390 pages later I finished it.

Without that trio of recommendations, I’d have never tried reading The House in the Cerulean Sea. But my neighbor, the student with the multiple piercings, and the world-class reader were right. The book is indeed terrific, and truly does contain important and powerful messages.

Okay, full disclosure: after the fact, my cousin, an intelligent person who also loves reading, said she absolutely hated the book. But then, perhaps she loves turnips. Nevertheless, the verdict is in. Scientifically conducted research reveals that 80 percent of the respondents to my exhaustive survey recommend that everyone should read The House in the Cerulean Sea! <