He was afraid one way or another of the voice that beats in your lungs. Your hurricane scream. You frightened him, how men fear things that can’t be quieted.
Not that the mermaid isn’t an interesting character; it’s just that I was drawn more towards the one I was not reading the book from the perspective of. But the mermaid (she’s never given a name. The Plague Doctor is never given a name. In the entire novella, only two characters are actually given names.), in all her pragmatic and bloodthirsty glory, is definitely the mermaid we need in the times we’re living in. We don’t have any “Part of Your World” or “Kiss the Girl” HEA in this book; when the children are born, let me tell you; the prince is real sorry he didn’t ask what exactly mermaids feed their young on. (One question I had though; what happens to the daughters during the events of the book?)
The writing style has the cadence and measure of a certain type of Old World fairy tale; I would put this up there with the Brothers Grimm or Angela Carter. This is fairy tales for grown-ups, or children who don’t mind blood, cannibalism, body horror, torture, maiming, murder, death of animals, graphic depictions of medical procedures, and all of the above also happening to children (except for the animal death.) If you didn’t want to compare it to a fairy tale, there is another novella I’ve read that I would compare it to: Nghi Vo’s The City in Glass.
And the ending? Right in all the feels. The moral of it all is; if you want true love and honest devotion, go for the monsters; they’re the most human of us all.
Bury me, my love, and take a lock of my hair with you. Carry me through the centuries. I think I’d like to share, just a little, in what immortality is like.