(courtesy Pan Macmillan Australia)
When you have spent much of your life being placed in the “Others” camp, that is, not part of the heteronormative white mainstream, then it can be tough to explain to those firmly in that camp what it’s like not slot neatly and without censure into the prevailing societal orthodoxy.
For those who are very much a part of the status quo, the idea that you could be sidelined or marginalised in any way is hard to imagine and it feels like you could only convey so much when you are, like this reviewer, say, a member of the queer community and trying to convey how that feels and how you can often feel like someone smeared up against the window, on the outside looking in.
The brilliance of any book by TJ Klune (The House on the Cerulean Sea, Under the Whispering Door, In the Lives of Puppets, Wolfsong) is that he weaves potently relatable themes of what it is like to be in that kind of marginalised position, whether you’re in the queer community or not.
You can hand one of his books to anyone you know, especially if they don’t their way around any queer terminology or finding it all a little mystifying and they have a beautifully kind and thoughtful and perfectly explained idea of what it’s like to sit outside the mainstream and to feel anxious and threatened by things that leave those in the centre of the status quo gloriously untroubled.
Arthur would follow him anywhere and told him as much. Linus rolled his eyes (though he couldn’t hide his smile) and said, ‘Besotted fool. Come on.’
Somewhere Beyond the Sea is the latest book from TJ Klune, and it continues to explore what it means to be human, to be loved, to be kind and to encompass those who have always felt on the outer, in ways benign but often calculatingly cruel, in the warm, loving bonds of inclusive, unconditional love.
It sounds facile to say a book feels like a big, warm hug, almost as you are infantilising the novel in question, but the truth of the matter is that all of Klune’s book but especially Somewhere Beyond the Sea do feel just like that.
The novel talks about what it’s like for six, now seven kids from magical backgrounds, who neither look the mainstream part nor act it necessarily, who are taken in by Arthur and Linus, a gay couple who are from either side of the great societal divide.
Arthur Parnassus is a phoenix, the last of his kind and he has found refuge, rather ironically on the very same island, Marsyas, where he encountered horrific abuse at the hands of the Department in Charge of Magical Youth (DICOMY), the very people who were supposed to protect and love him.
It’s the same old sad story of carers the world over; the very people who should stand in the gap, who should have your back and protect you come what may end up being the very people making your life a living, nightmarish hell.
Arthur aims to change all that for the next generation – Talia, a long-lived gnome with sassy attitude, Theodore, a wyvern (like a dragon) who loves buttons, Chauncey, a an adorable blob with eyeson stalks who is a brilliant bellhop, the oldest, Sal, a shapeshifter who can become a small Pomeranian. He has the ability to give others the shapeshifting ability by biting them, Lucy, a seven-year-old who is a wannabe reformed Antichrist and son of the Devil and Phee a sprite with the ability to control and nurture nature – and to make their lives infinitely better than his was.
This unlikely found family is cared for and loved with a fierce passion by Arthur and Linus, an ex-DICOMY employee who realised, when he was sent to audit Arthur, that what was happening on Marsyas was beautiful and sweet and exactly as life should be for orphaned kids on the wrong side of the mainstream divide who have nowhere else to go, and that he must do everything he can to support it.
All of the passion and commitment is put under severe strain in Somewhere Beyond the Sea when DICOMY, under new highly political, bigoted leadership, set out to destroy Arthur’s reputation, take the kids away from him and Linus and bring his wayward thoughts of love and inclusion back into line.
Theirs is a dark and terrible agenda and Somewhere Beyond the Sea really drives home how awful these bigoted souls are but how fearsomely love, deep, muscular, unyielding love can be when faced with a virulently dark and destructive threat.
Zoe burst out laughing. ‘Your children.’
Arthur smiled. ‘Aren’t they wonderful?’ He extended his arm towards her. ‘Your majesty.’
She punched him gently on the biceps. ‘Shut it, Parnassus. Call me that again, and I’ll banish you.’
‘I believe that.’
She took his proffered arm.
While Somewhere Beyond the Sea does not for a second stint on how awful mainstream humanity can be – Klune never sugarcoats what members of any outlier community face when the status quo flexes its considerable and often unfeeling muscles – it is also gorgeously clear about what it means to be surrounded by love when facing that kind of thoughtlessly nasty treatment.
For all of the horrors and threats visited upon Arthur, Linus, their friend and the island’s sprite guardian, Zoe, and the kids, now joined by a yeti kid called David who fancies himself as a talented actor (and he is), what emerges quite forcefully and in ways that will uplift and comfort your heart, especially as the world grapples with renewed fascistic opposition, is how powerful love can be.
It’s often portrayed as wispy and wafty and sigh-worthy in its loveliness but while they are aspects of it, real love, and certainly the kind that Arthur fights with fierce determination, is strong and able to fight off the gravest and most horrible of enemies and darkest of agendas.
There’s something brilliantly powerful, and all the kids know and feel it, about being told you are perfect just the way you are, and that you are loved and cared for in ways transformative and unconditional.
Somewhere Beyond the Sea sings this love letter (loudly and with charming but impactful loveliness) to the power of inclusion and family and love to change lives and shape futures for the absolute better, and while Arthur, Linus, Zoe, the kids and the good people of near by Marsyas township (including Zoe’s human girlfriend, Helen) are taken to hell and back, they emerge stronger than ever because they love and are loved and there isn’t anything more powerful and lifechanging than that.