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  • Title: House in the Cerulean Sea
  • Author: Tj Klune
  • Narrator: Daniel Henning
  • Length: 12:13:00
  • Version: Abridged
  • Release Date: 17/03/2020
  • Publisher: Macmillan Audio
  • Genre: Science Fiction & Fantasy, Fiction & Literature, LGBTQ+, Contemporary Fantasy
  • ISBN13: 9.78E+12
Hola, fellow wanderers and tale-chasers,

It’s not every day you stumble upon a story that feels like a warm hug from a stranger on a dusty road, but “The House in the Cerulean Sea” by TJ Klune, narrated by the masterful Daniel Henning, is exactly that kind of gem. The audiobook experience unfolds like a coastal breeze sweeping through an unfamiliar village, carrying whispers of magic, love, and the kind of family you build when the world least expects it. I first pressed play on this contemporary fantasy while winding through the narrow streets of a Portuguese fishing town, the scent of salt and grilled sardines hanging in the air. It reminded me of a time when I’d sit with a Oaxacan grandmother, her voice weaving tales of spirits and lost souls under a flickering lantern – stories that felt alive, intimate, and timeless. This audiobook captures that same magic, that same heartbeat.

Linus Baker, our by-the-book protagonist, starts as a gray smear of a man – someone you might pass in a crowd without a second glance. He’s a caseworker for the Department in Charge of Magical Youth, tasked with inspecting an orphanage on a remote island that houses six extraordinary children: a gnome, a sprite, a wyvern, and others who defy the ordinary. Then there’s Arthur Parnassus, the orphanage’s enigmatic master, whose quiet strength and fierce devotion to his charges stir the story like a wooden spoon in a simmering stew. The audiobook’s description promises an ‘enchanting love story’ about finding family in unlikely places, and it delivers – oh, does it deliver. You can almost taste the salt spray and hear the creak of the old house as Klune’s words paint a world that’s equal parts whimsical and profound.

For me, this tale hit close to the bone. Years ago, driving through Chile’s Atacama Desert, I listened to “One Hundred Years of Solitude” as the surreal landscape blurred past my window. The narrator’s voice turned García Márquez’s magical realism into a living thing, and I felt that same alchemy here with Henning’s performance. The story’s themes – belonging, transformation, the courage to defy a rigid system – echoed the human connections I’ve chased across continents. I thought of the families I’ve met, from the Moroccan souks to the Brazilian favelas, who stitched together kinship from scraps of shared dreams. Klune’s orphanage, perched on the edge of the cerulean sea, feels like one of those hidden histories I’m always digging for – a place where the overlooked find their power.

Let’s talk about the listening experience, because Daniel Henning doesn’t just narrate – he inhabits. His voice dances through the cast with a versatility that’s downright theatrical. Linus’s cautious, clipped tones soften as his heart cracks open; Arthur’s warmth radiates like a hearth fire; and the children – oh, the children. From Lucy’s mischievous growls (short for Lucifer, naturally) to Talia’s gruff gnome-ish burr, Henning revels in every quirk. AudioFile Magazine wasn’t kidding when they said he dives into ‘nuanced voices and colorful moments.’ It’s a cornucopia of sound, each accent and whisper building the atmosphere until you’re right there, standing on that windswept porch. I’ve heard my share of audiobooks, but this one’s a masterclass in oral storytelling – up there with that Oaxacan grandmother’s perfect timing and silences that say more than words.

The content itself is a marvel. Klune blends humor and heart with a deft hand, tossing in a pinch of Douglas Adams’ absurdity and a dash of “The Umbrella Academy”’s oddball charm, as Gail Carriger aptly noted. It’s a love story, yes – between Linus and Arthur, sure, but also between every misfit in that house and the idea of home. The fantasy elements never overpower the human core; gnomes and witches feel as real as the bureaucrats they’re pitted against. Yet, it’s not flawless. At times, the pacing meanders like a river after a rain, especially in Linus’s early chapters – those gray, rule-bound days drag a bit before the island’s magic takes hold. And while the sweetness is a balm, it skirts close to saccharine in spots, though Henning’s grounded delivery keeps it from tipping over.

Compared to other contemporary fantasies, this audiobook stands out for its intimacy. Where “The Night Circus” dazzles with spectacle or “Good Omens” leans on satire, “House in the Cerulean Sea” thrives on quiet moments – the clink of teacups, the rustle of leaves, the unspoken glances that build a family. It’s less about saving the world and more about saving each other, a distinction that feels refreshing in a genre often obsessed with epic stakes.

For potential listeners, I’d say this: if you crave a story that wraps around you like a well-worn blanket, if you love the interplay of a narrator who can growl like a wyvern one minute and whisper like a lover the next, this is your audiobook. It’s perfect for fans of LGBTQ+ narratives, fantasy with heart, or anyone who’s ever felt like an outsider looking in. At 12 hours and 15 minutes, it’s a journey worth taking – whether you’re on a road trip or curled up with a cup of mate. And if you can snag it as a free audiobook download (check platforms like Audiobooks.com for trials), all the better – more cash for your next adventure.

Reflecting on it now, this audiobook stirred something in me. It’s not just a story; it’s a reminder of why I chase tales across borders – of the families we find when we least expect them, of the magic tucked into the mundane. Listening to Linus shed his rulebook and step into the unknown felt like watching myself years ago, trading a desk job for a backpack and a one-way ticket. It’s a celebration of transformation, narrated with such care that it lingers long after the final chapter fades.

Until our next story unfolds, amigos,
Marcus Rivera