The House in the Cerulean Sea

“He’d learned early on in life that if he didn’t speak, people often forgot he was there or even existed. His mother had told him once when he was a child that he blended in with the paint on the wall, only memorable when one was reminded it was there at all.”

References to Linus’s mother appear discreetly throughout the text. The novel deals heavily with the theme of nature versus nurture, though this theme primary focuses on the magical children. In the passages that refer to Linus’s childhood, the novel reinforces the question. Linus’s mother’s admonitions consistently minimized him and instilled in him a quiet anxiety of the world. Through Linus’s growing relationships with the children, he is able to construct for himself a new image of what kind of person he is and can be.

“The only things that belonged to him were the clothes on his back and the mouse pad, a faded picture of a white sandy beach and the bluest ocean in the world. Across the top was the legend don’t you wish you were here? Yes. Daily.” 

Linus’s mousepad is referenced frequently in the novel and is used as a mechanism to illustrate his deepest longings and wishes. It is also notable for its introduction of color into the city in general and DICOMY in particular. Additionally, it foreshadows Linus’s arrival at Marsyas and the island’s transformation into the place of his hopes and dreams.

“‘Oh, Linus,’ his mother had told him once. ‘It’s never polite to revel in the suffering of others. What a terrible thing to do.” He never allowed himself to revel.’” 

Another reference to Linus’s mother demonstrates the influence she had on his character and experience of life. Linus does not say he never allows himself to revel “in the suffering of others,” but rather that he simply does not allow himself to revel. This is an early entry onto the list of things Linus does not allow himself: hope, color, happiness, companionship, self-love.

“And maybe part of him would believe it. He’d accepted long ago that some people, no matter how good their heart was or how much love they had to give, would always be alone. It was their lot in life, and Linus had figured out, at the age of twenty-seven, that it seemed to be that way for him. Oh, there was no specific event that brought along this line of thinking. It was just that he felt…dimmer than others. Like he was faded in a crystal-clear world. He wasn’t meant to be seen.” 

Just prior to this passage, the narrative indicates that Linus is very lonely, even if he cannot acknowledge it. This feeling of being separate from the rest of the world—of being personally irrelevant and an outsider—drives Linus’s work with DICOMY. He feels unable to make any difference or impression on the world as himself, so he strives to do some good by way of his work with magical youth. The more Linus’s motivations develop in the novel, the more clearly the author depicts the connection between his belief in the organization’s mission and his willingness to adhere to the Rules and Regulations, which he sees as greater than himself.

This early statement conveys Linus’s perspective on his job and on the mission of DICOMY. Particularly important is Linus’s belief at this point that the children “must be kept separate.” Though he is capable of a wealth of compassion, Linus’s determined objectivity in his investigations means that he has not yet spent enough time with any magical persons to see that their powers or origins are only a small part of who they are and what they have to offer the world. Linus’s later insistence that the children must be taken to the mainland is a reversal of this position and reveals the progress he’s made and the changes he’s undergone.

This early statement conveys Linus’s perspective on his job and on the mission of DICOMY. Particularly important is Linus’s belief at this point that the children “must be kept separate.” Though he is capable of a wealth of compassion, Linus’s determined objectivity in his investigations means that he has not yet spent enough time with any magical persons to see that their powers or origins are only a small part of who they are and what they have to offer the world. Linus’s later insistence that the children must be taken to the mainland is a reversal of this position and reveals the progress he’s made and the changes he’s undergone.

“It was as if the rain clouds had reached as far as they could. The gray darkness gave way to a bright and wonderful blue like Linus had never seen before. The rain stopped as they passed out of the storm and into the sun. He closed his eyes briefly, feeling the warmth through the glass against his face. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt sunlight. He opened his eyes again, and that’s when he saw it, in the distance. There was green. Bright and beautiful greens of waving grass, and what appeared to be flowers in pinks and purples and golds. They disappeared into white sand. And beyond the white was cerulean.” 

Klune depicts the city as oppressively gray and rainy, relieved only by Linus’s mousepad and sunflowers. The further Linus travels from it, the more vivid and colorful the world becomes. Klune uses this motif of color to emphasize the differences in both physical and emotional experience. The constant rain of the city—and Linus’s frequent soakings—represents the dreariness and heaviness of his life. When Linus notes here that he can’t remember the last time he felt sunlight, he may also be referring to the last time he felt a warmth or easiness in himself. 

“They fear what they don’t understand. And that fear turns to hate for reasons I’m sure even they can’t begin to comprehend. And since they don’t understand the children, since they fear them, they hate them. This can’t be the first time you’ve heard of this. It happens everywhere.” 

Linus’s drive through the village with Zoe, who speaks this passage, is likely the first experience he has had with being a part of the magical community rather than being apart from it. The villagers do not know of his position or status; they see him only as a companion to the woman they know as a creature. Though Linus has been aware of the discrimination in an abstract way, it is distilled in this environment due to proximity and familiarity. Zoe’s statement here is also explicitly one of the larger arguments of the novel.

“Mr. Parnassus nodded. ‘It’s the little things. Little treasures we find without knowing their origin. And they come when we least expect them. It’s beautiful, when you think about it. He loves it dearly. That was very kind of you.’” 

Many significant things are happening in this passage and in the scene in which it appears. First is Linus’s failure to see his gifting of a button to Theodore as anything important, when in fact it demonstrates his openness to the children and his fundamental belief in their humanity and care for their happiness and well-being. He claims that he was practically ordered to give Theodore a gift but does not acknowledge the reality that many other people in his position would have rejected Talia’s advice, feared Theodore, or found him too inhuman to humor with a trinket. Secondly, Arthur here articulates the importance of small moments of happiness and connection. Arthur and the children live in a hostile, discriminatory climate, but they find small joys together. It is clear to him, by this early sign, that Linus is in fact a kind, compassionate person who will be fair and see the children as people. A third aspect of this exchange is the idea that we may find treasures whose origin we cannot be sure of—this applies to Arthur himself, to Lucy, and to Chauncey. 

“I think you’ll find the impossible is more accessible here than you were led to believe.”

This quote, spoken by Arthur, obviously refers to the amazing capabilities of the island’s residents, but it can also be interpreted to apply to the presence of a life Linus never thought would be possible for him; he’d accepted that he would be invisible, unnoticed, and unimportant. On the island, however, he will find himself visible, noticed, important, and wanted. 

“Look, Mr. Baker. I know it’s—a lot to swallow, but I’ve had Lucy for a year. There were plans to…well. Let’s just say this was a last resort. Regardless of his parentage, he is a child. And I refuse to believe that a person’s path is set in stone. A person is more than where they come from.” 

Here, Arthur articulates another major theme of the novel: that people can create lives for themselves that do not depend on the trauma of their origins. Lucy is a particularly good vehicle for this discussion, as his title of “Antichrist” is widely recognized as an object of terror and evil. Klune instead explores the influence of free will and a desire to be good. The statement also applies to Arthur, who was badly abused as a child and yet has grown to turn his own prison into a loving home for other children. It applies to Linus, as well, who learns to be more than he was told he could be. 

“By the time the raft set sail again, parchment flapping, his loafers were wet, his socks soaked, and he was breathing heavily. But he felt lighter somehow. Like he wasn’t paint blending into the wall. He felt real. He felt present. Almost like he could be seen.” 

Linus’s response to the raft sent over from the village marks what may be his first-ever deviation from the Rules and Regulations. In taking this action, he again aligns himself with the magical against the nonmagical. For a man who believes that leaving a business without a proper goodbye is the height of rudeness, this is a significant move. Stepping outside of the patterns into which he has forced himself is exhilarating; in doing something he’s not quite supposed to do, Linus feels alive in a way he hasn’t for a long time. 

“Lucy said, ‘Hello, Mr. Baker. You would do well to remember that human souls are cheap trinkets to one such as me.’ He giggled and leapt from the bookshelf, landing on his feet. He looked up at Linus and whispered, ‘I love cheap trinkets.’ And then he’d run from the library. Linus saw him only an hour later munching on an oatmeal raisin cookie in the kitchen, bopping his head along with The Coasters singing about how they were gonna find her, searchin’ every which-a-way.” 

This passage is a particularly good example of the dichotomy of Lucy as a character. He is capable of destruction on an immense scale, but he is also capable of teasing, of dancing, and of being childlike. It would be easy to take Lucy’s statements as evidence of an evil nature, but the more Linus sees of Lucy, the more he realizes that he is much more than what the world believes to be his core. 

“‘That’s unfortunate,’ Lucy said, staring back up at the ceiling. ‘Humanity is so weird. If we’re not laughing, we’re crying or running for our lives because monsters are trying to eat us. And they don’t even have to be real monsters. They could be the ones we make up in our heads. Don’t you think that’s weird?’”

Lucy occupies a position that is simultaneously ancient and innocent. Though he can access vast reservoirs of knowledge, he is also learning about life and human nature for the first time. His observation here about the way humanity constructs monsters out of nothing but fear is insightful. Further, it critiques the tendency of humans to create their own monsters, whether they are real or not; in this case, society has invented a broad category of “monster” in which it places things that look or behave in an unfamiliar way. His observation provides a productive parallel for interpretations of the novel that highlight religious, ethnic, and racial discrimination.

“As they were ferried back to the island, Linus watched a seagull following them overhead, and he remembered his mouse pad at DICOMY, the picture of the beach asking if he wished he was here. He was. He was here. And that was dangerous thinking. Because this was not a holiday, a trip well deserved after all his hard work. He was still working, and regardless of where he was, he couldn’t forget that.”

Linus, uncomfortable with how happy he is becoming on the island, attempts to force himself back into the small, dreary box in which he has existed for so long. He sees the possibility of the island as a dream or a mirage and his job as a practical reality; unsurprisingly, Linus’s early instinct is to shy away from dreams and wishes and tamp down on any freer, wilder emotions.

“The world likes to see things in black and white, in moral and immoral. But there is gray in between. And just because a person is capable of wickedness, doesn’t mean they will act upon it. And then there is the notion of perceived immorality. I highly doubt Chauncey would even consider laying a tentacle on another person in violence, even if it meant protecting himself. And yet people see him and decide based upon his appearance that he is something monstrous.”

This lesson is one that Arthur repeats throughout the book and articulates the difference between perception and reality. Though we may perceive the “other” as being dangerous, that perception is based on a set of amorphous cultural anxieties and beliefs that do not reflect the individual truth of a person. As Linus gets to know and love the children, this lesson becomes easier and easier for him to understand. The time he spends with them allows him an intimate look beyond perception and into the unique and special things about each child.

“Linus couldn’t help agreeing. He’d never seen anything like it. He thought how muted his sunflowers must seem in comparison. He didn’t know how he’d ever thought they were bright. Going home was going to be quite the shock.”

This observation about the flowers on the island is an excellent example of the way Klune uses color as a symbol of life and consciousness. Linus sees the inadequacy of the small measures he took to add joy (in the form of color) to his previous life. He is also resigned to returning to the dull, colorless version of his life, even as he recognizes that it will be a loss.

“So long, that is, as he doesn’t give in to his true nature. It does beg the question of nature versus nurture, if there is inherent evil in the world that can be overcome by a normalized upbringing. Can he be rehabilitated? Assimilated? That remains to be seen.”

This is a quote from one of Linus’s reports to Extremely Upper Management. The reader can see Linus struggling with the question of nature versus nurture, though he is leaning towards the possibility of free will to change the course and shape of a person’s life. The use of the words “rehabilitated” and “assimilated” is still troubling; Linus does not suggest “accepted” or “valued” as options, though they are more in line with Arthur’s goals.

“He remembered the flash in Arthur’s eyes. The way his skin had felt so hot. He remembered the way Arthur smiled, the way he laughed, the way he existed here on this island as if he had everything in the world he could ever want. 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.” 

Returning to the use of color as a motif in the novel, this passage allows Linus to directly acknowledge the changes in the way he physically experiences the world of the island through a number of senses: sight, touch, hearing. Here, he pairs color directly to what it symbolizes for him: a more vivid, more lived, more present life.

“Life before had been mundane and ordinary. 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. Don’t you wish you were here? More than anything.” 

This passage is important for Linus’s reference to “his place in the world.” He frequently sees himself as insignificant and inadequate and found some meaning in becoming a cog in what he later calls the “machine” of DICOMY. He reckons with that view here in the realization that what he’d wished for (as represented by the mousepad) is possible, and that he will never be the same for having briefly possessed it.

“He found the adventurer clothes. He put them on. He still looked absolutely ridiculous. And for once, he found he didn’t care at all.” 

Linus’s earlier preoccupation with his appearance was critical and focused on minimizing the attention that might be given to his body. Very proper, he used suits and ties and stiff, official clothing as armor. When Zoe originally gives him the adventurer clothes, Linus is dismayed by how ridiculous he will look. In this passage, Linus embraces them and the freedom and meaning that they convey. Rather than worrying about the way they make him look, he’s focused on the playfulness and adventure they represent.

“A home isn’t always the house we live in. It’s also the people we choose to surround ourselves with. You may not live on the island, but you can’t tell me it’s not your home. Your bubble, Mr. Baker. It’s been popped. Why would you allow it to grow around you again?” 

This quote emphasizes the theme of found family in the novel. When Helen says this, she validates the idea that home can be people, and specifically the family we choose for ourselves. The “bubble” she refers to is a topic that is rich for discussion, particularly as it holds multiple dimensions within the novel. On the group’s trip to the mainland, Helen said, “We get trapped in our own little bubbles, and even though the world is a wide and mysterious place, our bubbles keep us safe from that. To our detriment” (274). Bubbles in this novel run the spectrum from denial of loneliness to a wall of fear and prejudice. The act of popping them is seen as courageous and progressive.

“Every morning it was getting harder and harder to pull himself out of bed. It was always raining. The sky was always metal gray. He felt like paper. Brittle and thin. He dressed. He rode the bus to work. He sat at his desk, going through one file after another. He ate wilted lettuce for lunch. He went back to work. He rode the bus home. He sat in his chair, listening to Bobby Darin singing about somewhere beyond the sea, somewhere waiting for me.” 

During Linus’s time back in the city, weather and color mark the differences between his normal life and his life on the island. The day is detailed in mundane repetition. Though Linus enjoyed music before Marsyas, the songs now have a different, more personal meaning for the Linus who found people to love and miss and who might be waiting for him. The description of this day also suggests the patterns of hopelessness of depression.

“And, if he were a much braver man, he would have told her no. He would have shouted for all to hear that he’d seen what a world looks like with color in it. With happiness. With joy. This world they lived in here wasn’t it, and they were all fools if they thought otherwise.” 

Linus dismisses his own courage in this passage. He thinks that if he were braver, he’d be able to convince others that there is something better in the world. At the same time, the construction of this understanding hinges on Linus having seen the colorful, joyful life; it’s one he’d always wished existed but couldn’t have truly believed in if he hadn’t lived it. It is not cowardice that keeps Linus quiet. It’s courage that allows him to leave it all behind and set out for something better.