Picking up right where Over the Woodward Wall ended, Seanan McGuire, writing as A. Deborah Baker, acclaimed alchemist, joins Avery and Zib as they trudge along the Improbable Road, weary and very much in need of rest. Avery and Zib’s increasingly improbable quest bears unexpected fruit, new adventures unspooling with each plodding step, the rainbow glitter of the road falling away in favor of wishing wells, help-kelp and an impossibly brilliant sea, unlocking the key to something more: a tale as old as the Saltwise Sea that separates the dangerous kingdoms of Coins and Cups.
She is not for you to speak with, or to speak of. She is a shadow, a story of the sea, and she should be left alone to fade away. Stories only vanish when they are forgotten.
– excerpt from A. Deborah Baker’s Along the Saltwise Sea
With simple, melodic prose, McGuire opens the door to new possibilities, legends folded between the pages of Avery and Zib’s adventure through the Up-and-Under, a thing that is perfectly imperfect, dangerous yet inviting. Neat, whimsical prose is woven together by a self-aware, all-encompassing narrator, in tune with the world and intent on bringing lessons to the forefront: on the journey so far, and the dangers it presents behind closed doors, or, in this case, a fitful attic staircase aboard the Windchaser as it sails through the Saltwise Sea under the Captain Queen, Alas.
But the story doesn’t start there. It begins with two tired children and two mysterious girls – one drowned, one crow – along the fading Improbable Road. What follows is a thing of whimsy and wonder, propelled into motion by a wishing well – a wished-for thing that appears when you need rather than a thing that grants wishes – sending the ordinary children into the unknown. Cool, clear water and a pristine bucket drop them into a bottomless well: a place to drink and rest, the water a balm to weary souls, especially those of drowned girls.
Just as the quartet gets comfortable – as comfortable as a ruffled murder of crows and a terrified boy can be, that is – they are pulled under the surface of the well, landing, water-logged and disoriented, on a bed of sentient kelp. The help kelp, an entirely different sort of border creature, pushes them in the direction of their next adventure: a jagged cave that leads to the siren-song that is the shore of the Saltwise Sea. With sleep a siren-song of its own, Avery and Zib trek across the shore, intent on keeping distance from the sea bearing the distant memory of the Lady of Salt and Sorrow in the frothy waves of the tide. Just as things seem too much to bear, a forest emerges, and with it, a small, moss-covered cottage tucked into the corner of the sea.
There’s a lesson to be learned in taking what doesn’t belong to you, however. Though the cottage abandoned and Avery and ZIb nothing more than children, the too-good-to-be-true opportunity turns slightly ominous, tension seeping into the narrative even as Zib clamors for adventure when the group is confronted the following morning and brought aboard the towering pirate ship that is the Windchaser.
In tasking the children with performing odd jobs around deck – tying knots, organizing bookshelves, and washing hundreds of dishes, among other things – McGuire takes the opportunity to build upon the world. From describing the warmth of a freshly cooked meal to delving into the history of the Up-and-Under – tradition, mythology, language, folklore – McGuire pens something delightful, hidden secrets bursting from the pages in the form of fallen kings, drowned girls, and mystical patrons, culminating in the truth behind the Lady of Salt and Sorrow, whose mysterious tale begins and ends with the King of Cups.
“You have to break your addiction to the idea that anything is impossible. Things don’t have to be possible to be true.”
– excerpt from A. Deborah Baker’s Along the Saltwise Sea
From bottomless wells to dancing water sprites, born of a drowned girl’s mutual trust, McGuire breathes life into the improbable, making it possible beyond doubt. The attention to detail, to language – in the lush, vivid scenery of the Up-and-Under, the brilliant blue of the sky and the frothy gray of the waves upon the sea, not to mention the very natures of the characters themselves, likened to bonfires let loose upon fields of summer and perfectly organized libraries – is nothing short of magical, an art unto itself. From wished-for wells to puddles-turned-girls, McGuire crafts a world that is as whimsical as it is real, a true portal to another world, an inspirational half-truth that encourages imagination and adventure.
It seemed ridiculous to her that anyone could look at her and think she was the sort of child who was suited to laundry and sweeping and eventual motherhood, and all because of a name she had never chosen for herself. “Girl” was a name for another kind of creature, something she was not and would have no idea how to go about becoming, even if she wanted to.
– excerpt from A. Deborah Baker’s Along the Saltwise Sea
Even as McGuire suspends reality, she weaves in nuggets of truth – on friendship and gender roles, on the nature of names and the meaning of life – adding undeniable depth to her characters. Despite the inexorable differences that separate Avery and Zib, their ever-growing misadventures and mistakes push them to grow, accepting and absorbing facets of each other. Zib learns to tame her curiosity within reason, taking time to think before she acts while Avery lets go of the fear of perfection, diving into the unknown in search of a greater truth. Neither is perfect, but those imperfections help the duo stay on the path toward the Improbable Road.
While the journey is far from over, the events of Along the Saltwise Sea just another beginning, McGuire opens the door for something new, long-lost tradition warring with the icy cold danger of the unknown, storms ebbing in the face of the iridescent rainbow that is the Improbable Road, a beacon pointing toward home.
“They were an alphabet unto themselves, A leading inexorably to Z, and they needed to hold fast to be completed.”
– excerpt from A. Deborah Baker’s Along the Saltwise Sea
I received this book for Christmas but have yet to read it. Your lovely review has me thinking I better pick up it up sooner than later!