Coral (ARC Review)

Pitched as a Little Mermaid retelling with anxiety and depression rep, I couldn’t wait to dive into Coral by Sara Ella.

But the deeper I swam into this novel, the more it became something I was not expecting. It was not all better down where it was wetter…take it from me.

I was surprised to find that this story is told from multiple perspectives, each of which has its own strengths…and weaknesses.

Coral is our Little Mermaid protagonist. I found her to be the most interesting of the three perspectives by far at the beginning and wanted more of her. Not only because her perspective is the retelling aspect but because descriptions in her chapters had a cool experimental flare where sights, sounds, smells, tastes, and feelings were described as colors just as ordinarily as if they were said to be loud, or foul, or sad.

But I felt a bit bruised and battered when reading her sections; hit over the head with the idea that the Disease was a (quite obvious) symbol for mental illness and that she was indeed the little mermaid. 

Although, I would have suffered the beating since I found her to be the most interesting of the three if her chapters hadn’t become the least important and faded into nothing. It’s clear that the marketing team on this one took “little mermaid” to heart (I mean, that cover) and for good reason. It certainly got me hook, line, and sinker. But it ends up being only a small part of this story and isn’t really the focus. So, if Gregory Mcguire-esque fairy tales retold is what you’re expecting here…find another sea to swim in. Not only is it trivial to the overall story when it comes down to it, but the “retelling” is more so based on the Disney version with a few Hans Christian Anderson quotes sprinkled on top. 

Brooke is a troubled teen dealing with a lot of anxiety and depression. Her chapters were the rawest and drove the novel forward with the slight mystery aspect of her story; we wonder throughout who exactly she is, where she came from, and how she ended up where we see her.

Or they would have driven it forward if I didn’t feel like slamming on the brakes during her every chapter. I found Brooke to be almost insufferable. Her avidness to dislike and distrust everyone pushes the reader away much more successfully than her attempts at pushing away the other characters. Her unwillingness to let people in is a fact which she repeats over and over until you really can’t miss it. But only in her thoughts. In her actions, she quickly changes her mind about everyone with seemingly little reason. 

The secondary characters in her chapters spoke only in overly profound sentences that sounded straight out of self-help books. Brooke seemed to find this very comforting somehow when in reality, I think a person would most likely find it strange and fake. Especially considering that when I say ‘secondary characters’ I mean all of them, whether they were adults or children, creating wholly unnatural sounding dialogue. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes and shake my head during the majority of her sections, at both her and everyone else.

Merrick is the son of a rich businessman trying desperately to get out of his shadow and do right by his younger sister. His chapters were most often the glue that held the others together.

I might have liked Merrick if he and everyone around him weren’t fraught with tropes and stereotypes. He had the potential to really be a prince charming at some points but his overall character just got worse and worse. The idea that the only way he could help his sister, who is dealing with suicidal ideation and self-harm, is to find his mother rather than just…I don’t know, talking to her himself?! Getting her professional help?!  was so very frustrating. That’s not his only motive for finding his Mom, though, he also needs her because he would absolutely die if his sister asked him to buy her tampons. My eyes rolled so hard at that one I thought they’d be stuck up there forever.

There’s a romance that blooms amidst the chaos that seemed almost an afterthought. Placed there, perhaps, as a seemingly required homage to the original fairytale. We are told more than shown why and how the two characters come to like each other. The time they spend together, evolving this relationship, is mostly in the time between chapters, and in the periods in which the story skips over. Even if I felt connected to the two characters on their own (which I didn’t), the little time we spend with them makes it even harder to ship.

What was most frustrating across all of these perspectives was that when it came to overall characterization, the role that suicide and suicidal ideation played was…unfortunate. The mental health rep was the second huge reason I wanted to read this book; I’m always ready for good representations of anxiety and depression. 

But this was…not that.

I think, if it matters, that the intention here was pure and good. The result just isn’t. Suicidal ideations and attempts are so essential to plot and character’s lives that it defines them and the story. Suicide is at the root of most character motivations and events as if it is a writing tool or a mere plot device, and the book is so saturated with it that it loses impact almost completely. Characters become little beyond their failing mental health. 

 I really don’t think that was the lasting impression that this book was meant to have. 

What made me continue reading for most of this book was my desire to know how all three perspectives came together. From the start, they feel separate, especially since two perspectives are told from third person past tense and one is told from first person present tense.

There are plenty of clues to deciphering the truth in an attempt to keep you enthralled. But they are all quickly followed by misnomers and jumps in time so that even when you think you’ve figured it out, the story makes you believe that you haven’t. When the perspectives do seem to come together, it appears that one will acknowledge this and another will not, which is more than a little perplexing. It doesn’t feel like the natural, fun, figure-it-out-game of red herrings and piecing together clues, but rather like you’re being tricked as a reader and purposefully led astray so that there can be a big reveal at the end. Then when things are revealed, you realize you were right all along, but merely lead to doubt yourself. By the time I got there, I’d been lead on such a wild chase for so long that it didn’t matter to me.

That being said, the ending did clarify many things, even if it did create as many questions (and plot holes) as it answered. The story takes its time wrapping up, attempting to explain what it denied to tell you throughout and trying to force you into an aha! moment.  But it’s too little too late. At this time, it becomes clear that what this story was trying to do was play with a slightly experimental and complex play with time and storylines. Which, is actually incredibly interesting, but, as is clearly shown here, is extremely difficult to achieve. The result is that I was confused for the majority of the story, and even at the end when things were supposed to be clarified. I felt as if I would need to reread this story in order to fully understand its impact, see what it was trying to do, and the strengths it had (not the ideal reading experience). Otherwise, it’s mostly lost on me. The trade-off of this play with time is also that the story takes place over a long period of time, and sometimes skips ahead months and years with barely a mention of the time that had passed. 

This book just really missed the mark for me. It was not really what it was described to be, and not what I think it set out to be either. The characters were unrealistic and unnatural and therefore hard to care for, and the plot was confusing and overly complicated.

What is most frustrating about this is that it had the guts to be a good story. The play with time and story, if done well, could have really driven the story and created something original. The themes that it was attempting to convey (awareness of mental health and specifically those who struggle with suicidal ideations) is so important a message to share. I was invested in what I thought this story had to give me before I started reading and was left painfully wanting. Perhaps with a few more rounds of content editing, this could have been something great. But as it stands I had to rate this book 2 out of 5 stars, my lowest rating of the year so far. 

Coral will be released on November 12, 2019.

Thank you to Netgalley and Thomas Nelson for the opportunity to read a digital advanced reader’s copy in exchange for an honest review!