Somewhere Beyond the Sea – TJ Klune
TJ Klune returns to Marsyas Island in “Somewhere Beyond the Sea,” a sequel that aims to deepen the tender, queer-affirming fantasy of “The House in the Cerulean Sea.”
But where the first book struck a delicate balance between message and storytelling, this follow-up struggles under the weight of its own good intentions. Earnest and well-meaning, yes, but after a few chapters it was hard not to wonder if this return trip to Marsyas was truly necessary.
Set shortly after the events of the first book, the novel centers on Arthur Parnassus, Linus Baker and their magically gifted wards, now settled into a life of domestic peace that predictably can’t last.
While preparing for a new child — the yeti David — to arrive, Arthur is summoned to testify before government officials who fear he’s turning the children against humanity. These elements suggest tension and high stakes, but Klune frequently undercuts them with jarring tonal shifts and repetitive slice-of-life interludes.
Narrator Daniel Henning, reprising his role for the audiobook, compounds the problem. While his performances of the children — especially David and Chauncey — retain some charm, his portrayal of adult characters grates quickly.
His exaggerated affectations and off-putting pronunciation choices (“ga-zay-bo”) frequently pulled me out of the story. His performance may have worked once as a novelty, but here, it wears out its welcome within minutes.
At the heart of the book lies an unsubtle but impassioned metaphor for queer and, more specifically, trans liberation. Klune dedicates it to trans readers, and the plot centers on Arthur’s struggle to protect his found family from a system bent on control and erasure.
The magical children represent various marginalized identities, while the government agency, DICOMY, doubles as a stand-in for oppressive institutions policing identity and behavior under the guise of “protection.”
Mrs. Marblemaw and her superior, Mrs. Rowder, are the new antagonists, dispatched to the island to investigate Arthur. Their methods are cruel, their motives authoritarian and their rhetoric familiar.
Here’s where the comparison to the “Harry Potter” series becomes unavoidable — and not just because Klune appears to invite it. Marblemaw is a clear stand-in for Dolores Umbridge, down to her cloying smile and faux-polite cruelty. Rowder reads as a muggle Voldemort, pulling strings from behind the curtain in the name of ideological purity.
The entire setup mirrors “Order of the Phoenix,” but with a queer-positive spin: a magical safe haven under siege, a chosen family helping the central figure confront both his past and a corrupt system. And while this reclaiming of fantasy tropes is laudable – especially in light of J.K. Rowling’s well-documented transphobia – it also highlights the novel’s shortcomings.
While Klune positions himself as an inclusive alternative to Rowling, the comparison cuts both ways. Without Rowling’s intricate plotting or world-building depth, “Sea” feels like a pastiche: well-intentioned but shallow, familiar but less compelling.
The messaging, though important, lacks the nuance and narrative integration required to truly land. What should feel revelatory often feels like a lecture wrapped in slapstick. A long chapter detailing Arthur’s testimony is one of the book’s most compelling stretches. The only part that felt tense, purposeful and well-paced.
However, elsewhere, an hour-long birthday breakfast or bumbling “yacht” trip flattens the emotional stakes. The whimsical tone undercuts moments of real danger or revelation, and the structure falters, leaning on repetition rather than progression. In some ways these moments show the importance of still living in the face of adversity, but they were more grating than charming.
Klune’s signature warmth is still here in flashes, especially in the quiet solidarity between Arthur and Linus, and the way the children lean into their identities with confidence and joy. But these moments are dulled by thin characterizations and repetitive plotting. Strip away the inclusive framing, and what remains is a derivative and uneven narrative.
There’s immense value in stories that celebrate queer joy and resilience, especially in genres long dominated by heteronormative narratives. Still, good intentions don’t absolve weak storytelling. It’s okay to support what Klune stands for and still admit when he stumbles.
“Somewhere Beyond the Sea” wants to be a beacon, but it ends up an echo of what made “The House in the Cerulean Sea” so beloved. It wants to offer the inclusive magic Rowling won’t, and for some readers, that alone may be enough. But intent doesn’t equal impact. The message may still shine through, but the journey is far less enchanting than before.
Rating (story): 2.5/5 stars
Rating (narration): 2/5 stars
Format: Audiobook (library loan)
Dates read: March 16 – March 22, 2025
Multi-tasking: Good to go. The audiobook narration can be a tad grating on the ears, but it’s an easy listen.
