“The Speculative Fiction Indie Novella Championship (SFINCS, pronounced “sphinx”)a is a yearly competition to recognize, honor, and celebrate the talent and creativity present in the indie community. We are a sister competition to both SPFBO and SPSFC, and we highlight greatness in the novella format in all areas of speculative fiction (fantasy, science fiction, horror, etc.).” – From the official SFINCS website.
Note: The following review contains only my personal thoughts as a judge and does not reflect the views of the team as a whole.
REVIEW
Kelly Jarvis’s Selkie Moon took me for a spin. As the title suggests, it’s a retelling of the legend of the selkie–essentially, a fantastical seal that can transform into a human and who will remain in human form if her sealskin is stolen. Impeccably written and edited, and with a truly human heart informing its storytelling, Selkie Moon will move you with its raw, honest exploration of mother-daughter relationships, coercive control, and the experience of living as a stranger in a strange land. While I had some issues with Selkie‘s ending and how some of its themes shook out in the final telling, I highly recommend it for its thoughtful examination of some rather dark subject matter, as well as its stellar prose. It’s become a theme this round that I’m recommending readers of various semi-finalists pick up the others, but I genuinely think Selkie Moon will be a hit for fans of The Drowned Heir and The Butcher’s Lot, along with readers who enjoy Alix Harrow and J. Patricia Anderson.
On an isolated Orkney island, child protagonist Isla is raised by her loving but exceptionally strange mother and fisherman father. Her parents frequently fight, especially when it comes to the mother’s forbidden excursions to remote beaches, where she teaches Isla to swim in the rough waters of the Atlantic and instructs her about the flora and fauna of the island in a mysterious and unnamed language. While Isla is unaware of the reasons for her mother’s peculiarity, the audience is primed both by the title and the knowledge that this is fantasy, to recognize that the mother’s origins are likely far from mundane. When Isla’s brother is born and the conflict between mother and father intensifies, the possibility of moving to the larger mainland town of Kirkwall hovers over the text, threatening to strain Isla’s deep connection with her mother. Isla grows more and more curious about the mystery of her mother’s heritage, as well as her father’s insistence that Isla and her brother reject it. The story of Isla’s childhood and adolescence, Selkie Moon is an intimate portrait of the ways in which secrets can haunt, fracture, and define family relationships.
Character and story are deeply intertwined in Selkie Moon. Although in many ways, the novella is contemplative and largely focused on Isla’s inner world, it’s also pulse-pounding and compulsive. Jarvis sustains the dramatic irony and tension around the audience’s knowledge of the mother’s identity with remarkable deftness, so that a sense of future tragedy and heartbreak oozes from the pages. It’s easy to keep reading with a mixture of eagerness and dread for what’s potentially to come, guessing at what Jarvis will do with the story of a woman trapped by a husband who hides the means of her escape and denies her the freedom even to name her children. We witness, through Isla, devastating moments of abuse perpetrated by her father against her mother (as well as the family in general), but always with a child’s authentically-rendered gaze, so that the exact source of conflict and animosity remains slightly veiled.
Throughout, the mother’s yearning for the ocean and her sealskin adds a rich layer to Isla’s story, even as we experience it at a distance. It’s a credit to Jarvis’s ability as a writer that, despite limited dialogue from the mother, she emerges as a strong character with her own desires, regrets, and hopes. The image Jarvis paints of a woman trapped in a marriage with someone of another culture who does not share her language or beliefs and who pulls her ever further from those things that bring her delight, resonates beyond the fantastical elements of the plot to suggest real-world experiences of intercultural marriage, immigration, and forced relationships. Isla, likewise, is beautifully drawn. As I read, I couldn’t help but ache at the realism and authenticity of her story. Jarvis’s choice to write Selkie Moon from the daughter (rather than mother)’s perspective allows her to explore the tragedy and beauty that so often defines mother-child relationships. While during her earliest years, Isla is captivated by her mother’s knowledge, stories, and otherworldliness, as she grows up and meets other children, the things that are different about her family become a source of embarrassment and shame. It’s hard not to want to reach through the pages and both reprimand and comfort Isla, as she navigates both her own wild nature, and her attempts to differentiate herself from her mother. I can say, as an immigrant who grew up with an intense awareness of my family’s Otherness, that Isla really spoke to me. Throughout my time with Selkie Moon, I couldn’t help but keep repeating to myself how real it was, how true. And, while they’re not the heart of the story in the way that Isla and her mother are, Isla’s father and brother are approached with a similar mindfulness and care.
“My father, a farmer and a fisherman, was woven into the fabric of Orkney life, his family spread like freckles across the broad face of the islands.”
In terms of its prose, Selkie Moon has some of the most impressive writing I’ve come across not only in SFINCS, but in the indiesphere as a whole. Although the first two pages or so are occasionally a little overwritten, the rest of the work is a masterclass in flow, voice, immersion, pace, and in balancing keen, specific description with present action. Selkie Moon is gorgeously written without sacrificing clarity or readability. As has been the case with a few SFINCS semi-finalists, I felt at ease as a reader, secure in the knowledge that I was in good hands and could let myself sink into the story.
Where Selkie Moon does disappoint slightly is in its ending. I won’t spoil what happens, but I did find its conclusions unlikely and unsupported by the rest of the text. Having also read Jarvis’s author’s note, I was sympathetic to the story and themes she was wrestling with, yet apart from the events of the conclusion themselves, the execution felt too abrupt and removed to address what took place with the nuance that was called for, and much of the feminist approach of the novella felt undermined. Nonetheless, I would still recommend Selkie Moon, and I’m clamouring to read more by Kelly Jarvis.
“If my grandmother had her way, I would end up married to the first boy who proposed, whether I cared for him or not, and my own dreams would decay like rotting flesh as I stared out the window at the wide expanse of the Atlantic Ocean, remembering a life that had been stolen from me.”
Selkie Moon is a special, rare book–intentional, specific, and written with obvious passion and skill. Retellings and modern approaches to fairytales and folklore can be very hit-or-miss, but this one offers something precise and unique. The setting feels so realistic and personal that I was genuinely shocked when I learned from the author’s note that Jarvis isn’t herself from Orkney (somewhere, I admit, I myself have never visited but now long to). Likewise, Jarvis’s treatment of family dynamics is mature and considered. I’d recommend Selkie Moon to adult readers who love stories about growing up, to fans of folklore and mythology, as well as to fantasy readers looking for skilled new writers in the field.
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