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A review by Sherwood Smith
Em lives in Mermaid's Hands, a small community of floating houseboats rising and falling on the gulf tide. The people exist on
the margin, regarding sea detritus as harvest as they constantly repair their weather-battered houses. They regard themselves as
sea folk, protected by the Seafather beneath the waves. They have their own history and traditions as well as a rich mythology.
Kaya, well educated (including years of botanical research at an American university) is more skeptical about the mountain
people's own deity, the fierce Lady of the Lake, a volcano goddess; her island's more numerous lowland population controls the
government, which has forbidden the mountain folk's language and customs. Kaya, apolitical, tried to arrange the traditional
celebration of the Lady to show the mountain children what it had been like when she was small, sparking a furious purge by
the government who sees her action as insurgency.
Em, with a brother in prison, is instantly sympathetic; there are strains in her family before a hurricane hits, nearly wiping
out the community, and Kaya, helpless to do anything in aid of deteriorating relations between the mountain and lowland folk, takes
an intense interest in Em's life, leading to unexpected consequences for both.
Told through letters, journal entries, news articles, and secret government memos, the story unfolds with inexorably rising
stakes. The layers of liminality in this novel begin right with its appearance; it's difficult to ascribe a convenient marketing
niche. It is not a kid's story, though there is a kid central, but it could be read by kids, especially the smart ones with
unquenched curiosity about the world. But among the many layers there exists a poignant love story that might sail over a
child reader's head; it will take an adult reader to perceive the many types of faith represented here: in lovers, in friends,
in family, in community.
Em exists just this side of adulthood, dealing with questions larger than she is; Kaya, suspended between lava and sky, exists
as a symbol between two peoples, one of whom the government is doing its best to force into conformity. Mermaid's Hands is
liminal in every possible way, and it, too, hovers on the end of extinction.
Then there is the question of reality. How is reality defined? After seeing a vision, Em writes, "I know it sounds like it must
of been a dream, but I don't think so. It was extra real. It felt more real than lots of regular days have felt."
Kaya's steadily worsening situation jacks the tension high, but it is the indefatigable, generous-hearted Em who really carries the
book. Her faith in the Seafather, her family, her community, in the goodness of nature and humanity, and the doubts she struggles
with as each is threatened, is expressed in the metaphor of sea and shore, boat and bird.
Helped by her practical, good-natured best bud Small Bill, her asthmatic sister Tammy, her family and friends and one sympathetic
teacher, Em moves through life wrestling with change, and in turn, affects everyone whose life touches hers.
There is humor and wonder, high tension and profound grief -- altogether a vivid, memorable book that is one of my favorite picks for 2013.
Sherwood Smith is a writer by vocation and reader by avocation. Her webpage is at www.sff.net/people/sherwood/. |
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