I just finished the beautiful, haunting, absurd, and magitragic novel, The Seas, by Samantha Hunt. This is a book with a rich sense of place, compelling characters, and layers upon layers of themes and possible meanings, which shoot out in every direction.

At times, while reading, I had some judgement about the contemporary’s literary community’s dealings of mental illness. So often, it seems, authors borrow symptoms in ways that do not always feel ethical to me, but instead are used to shock and awe. However, by the end of this novel, Hunt had really earned it, in my opinion, and was able to demonstrate a deeper meaning and a broader purpose in her depiction of this strange and mesmerizing mermaid main character.

We’re nearing the end of the reading year now, and I’ll count this one among my favorites.