The House in the Cerulean Sea

Okay, okay, I liked it. I'm on record as not being a big fan of this author. His humor is too broad and his overwrought melodrama doesn't work for me either. And when I started this book I immediately thought, well this is totally predictable: the buttoned-down, by-the-book orphanage inspector will learn to loosen up and realize the true meaning of life. And yep, that's exactly what happened. But what I didn't predict was how charming the journey would be. I fell in love with the kids (which never happens to me, the only kids I like are my own), most especially Chauncey the aspiring bellhop and Sal the traumatized shifter (I was lukewarm on Lucy, TBH, no pun intended).

And yes, I rolled my eyes numerous times at the hokey platitudes intoned (primarily by Arthur) about dreams, accepting differences and other naive concepts like that, but in the dumpster fire of 2020 it's nice to think that someone is trying to keep a little flame of idealism alive. And you would have to be made of stone not to be affected by the dramatic conclusion and the rosy epilogue, and although I'm a hardened cynic I'm not granite yet.

I don't know if Klune had a stronger editor for his mainstream debut, or if he just agreed to tone it down, but this book was very well done and one that I might even - gasp! - read again someday. I'm not ready to add Klune to my list of auto-buy authors but I have to admit, he hit it out of the park with this book.