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An award-winning author tells of a mermaid who leaves the sea in search of her landish mother in a captivating tale spun with beautiful prose, lush descriptions, empathy, and keen wit. Blood calls to blood; charm calls to charm. It is the way of the world. Come close and tell us your dreams. Sanna is a mermaid — but she is only half seavish. The night of her birth, a sea-witch cast a spell that made Sanna’s people, including her landish mother, forget how and where she was born. Now Sanna is sixteen and an outsider in the seavish matriarchy, and she is determined to find her mother and learn who she is. She apprentices herself to the witch to learn the magic of making and unmaking, and with a new pair of legs and a quest to complete for her teacher, she follows a clue that leads her ashore on the Thirty-Seven Dark Islands. There, as her fellow mermaids wait in the sea, Sanna stumbles into a wall of white roses thirsty for blood, a hardscrabble people hungry for miracles, and a baroness who will do anything to live forever. From the author of the Michael L. Printz Honor Book The Kingdom of Little Wounds comes a gorgeously told tale of belonging, sacrifice, fear, hope, and mortality.
Reviews with the most likes.
Unexpectedly complex and enjoyable, doubly so because of how utterly improbable it was that I would ever hear of it, let alone read it: I feel fortunate and am thankful to my friend A. for placing it in my hands.
It's a bit long, but large print so it goes by quickly. A few slightly irksome side plots, made up for by the quality of the writing and the story. And then, three-quarters of the way through, whoa. Let's just say, I didn't see that coming, then that or that or that. There are some dark twists and uncomfortable resolutions. What I loved is that this is not a morally ambiguous book - it's a morally clear one taking place in a less-clear world. Young (and some less-young) adults would do well to read Cokal's portrayals of vanity and greed; the consequences of falling for shallow charismatic “leaders” or of acting in haste; and some lovely takes on kindness and strength.
In one of those curious quirks of fate, I finished the book on the same day I listened to the Invisibilia Trust Fail episode. The timing was eerily appropiate: trust (social and interpersonal) fascinates me, its breakdown terrifies me. I can't say much more without spoilers but should you get the chance to read this book – and I do recommend that you do so! – you may want to give that podcast a listen beforehand.