The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune: from me to you to us

If the Antichrist enjoys anything more than voicing bloodthirsty apocalyptic threats, it's helping to make biscuits in the kitchen. And with that, one has all one needs to see beyond his demonic provenance to the child who needs love, nurture, and a chance to have some damn good adventures.

"You NEED to read The House in the Cerulean Sea!" I was told, having asked for uplifting reads to get me through a nasty bout of flu. I spent the first page or so wondering if it was written for children or adults before concluding "yes". Then I got into the serious business of enjoying this expertly woven tale of a man who comes from a faceless corporatist society to judge a chaotic but loving community, and must decide which of these he should in face be judging.

Linus Baker is sent on a mission to inspect Marsyas Orphanage and its leader, Arthur Parnassus, for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth. He finds he has embarked not just on a train, but on the eternal Story of how "we" come to be once "I" engages with "you". Or, to put it another way, how "I" can only come to exist in the first place when something of "I" is offered to a "you".

Because Linus, as he starts his journey in every sense, is not quite an "I". He is not yet an individual in the fullest sense, because he is not yet fully differentiated from the "they" that rule his world from behind a curtain as grey as the eternal rains of the city the Department rules its little empire from. (The only real "you" in his life is the pot of sunflowers outside his cramped flat, and as beautiful as the flowers are they're not great conversationalists.) Leaving on his assignment, his train breaks through the rain and he experiences the thrill of seeing the sea for the first time. From that point, he is reluctantly drawn out of the fifteen-minute city he carries around with himself into a world that is entirely beyond the understanding of the eminences behind the curtain. A world of beautiful, broken people (sprites, goblins, etc); of buttons and belonging; of one of the most beautiful romances in literature; and of a surprisingly cool record shop.

The House in the Cerulean Sea is magic; the book casts a spell on you as you read it, which for me felt like my own first time seeing the sea, many years ago. (And as if to order, my fever broke during spells of reading the denouemant.) But more than that: Marsyas Orphanage is far different to Hogwarts, but is nevertheless the first real rival to Rowling's school that I've come across. In a similar vein, as the series continues - and I've just found out that the second book, Somewhere Beyond the Sea, is out - Parnassus could well be a new generation's version of Dumbledore, in all his complexities and darknesses. And I can't wait to find out if the Antichrist shares his recipe for biscuits.