This was not one I planned on reading due to the mixed reviews, but I found it for cheap at a secondhand shop and it was nice having a chance to read in paperback again. The Starless Sea is a novel that really delights in dragging the reader into the unknown; nothing is conventional about it, let alone structure or the genre. It isn’t exactly a straight fantasy, but there are definitely speculative elements and parts that seem like they would fit with fantasy—and yet, worldbuilding is not a terribly huge concern. This book reminded me of those fancy fondant cakes: they look incredible from afar, but cut it open and you’ve got yourself a fairly mediocre cake with terrible plastic-like junk on top. This book excelled at creating the right ambiance and atmosphere, and it was fun to go through the mystery of the Starless Sea, but it ultimately fell short of my expectations.
There isn’t really a plot to this. Sure, there is a loosely structured series of events that could technically be construed as a ‘plot’ but it really is not the mainstay of the novel. Events happen in various times and definitely not always in chronological order. I did find that aspect interesting, since the book gives you ‘snippets’ of various things that happen, perhaps in the past or the future, so it’s a bit like having puzzle pieces of a story and having to figure it out as you fit them together. However, by the end of ‘finishing’ the puzzle, so to speak, one finds that the picture isn’t that much more cohesive than the individual pieces themselves. There was also a complete lack of tension; there didn’t feel like there were any stakes involved, and even when there was a concrete ending to the story, it felt abrupt and unlike any other typical book ending. I do get that Morgenstern’s point is exactly to subvert our traditional expectations of the fantasy genre and play with the structure of what storytelling is and can be, but the effect was underwhelming from a reader’s perspective. The narrative also picks up the pace intensely with a lot of infodumping in the third act, which was unfortunate—it felt like it was the rushed ending to the first novel in a drawn out duology, rather than approaching the end of a single standalone book.
The characters are also somewhat static, though I did appreciate that the novel was transparent about the characters’ flaws—even calling some out openly. However, that doesn’t change the fact that the characters had those annoying flaws to begin with. For instance, our protagonist Zachary (who for some reason must be called by full name at the start of all of his chapters—why? That isn’t quirky, it’s just grating) is kind of a limp noodle. He flows with the tide and is generally lost in his life, a 25-year old graduate student uncertain about anything and everything. Somewhat relatable, but beyond that, I didn’t care that much for him. There is also a romance with a character he meets along his adventures, and it was just unconvincing for them to develop the attachments they did in such a short amount of time (and might I add, one person was unconscious for half that time). Like the plot, the characters play somewhat fluid roles, and everything comes around full circle, but at the same time, a lot of characters feel pointless.
Certainly the book’s themes are ambitious and lofty—chief among these, the nature of storytelling and what it means to tell a story. The use of symbolism, and the book is pretty meta about this too, is almost overwhelming—bees, hearts, and whatever else quickly lost their sense of individuality. By the end I wasn’t even sure what each meant, or if it even mattered. That might also speak to the author’s intent, though. It felt like the book had a lot to say on books, video games, stories, libraries, preserving old things, fate/determinism, regrets, but it sort of dipped into each of these like a sampler tray without really wading into the depths and asking the tough questions or probing why we should care. Again, I got the impression of a mysterious and cozy and book-nerd-paradise aesthetic, but there was little substance there to actually maintain the facade. Why do the acolytes dedicate their lives to this space? Who really has time to sit there and read all the dusty books? How does the Sea actually work? Nothing is really explained, no matter how ridiculous or confusing.
Although it wasn’t everything I was hoping for, it was still a somewhat entertaining book to read, and I applaud Morgenstern for being experimental with storytelling. Whether her experiment is a success or not probably depends heavily on the reader. I much more prefer some structure and a more well-defined world when it comes to fantasy/myth. This book is kind of like a myth, actually—the plot and characters may be irrelevant or merely loosely thought out, but it’s really the sentiment it leaves you with that matters. I will have to check out The Night Circus again, which I started once years ago but never quite finished. If you approach this book expecting a whimsical atmosphere, cozy bookish nooks to crawl into (with cats and candles and hot tea and knit sweaters), and little else, this will be just right.
