Un libro muy poco original y que me costo bastante leerlo a pesar de que fuera bastante corto.
Bastante decepcionada del libro ya que me lo vendían como un retelling feminista de la sirenita pero recién ese “feminismo” se podía ver al final, que fue lo único interesante de la novela.

No book review can ever be objective but in most cases, my ratings given to books reflect how I think most people will react to it. If I rate a book highly, not only do I love it but I usually think most people will enjoy it as well. The Surface Breaks is a book that hasn't always been well-received and I completely understand why but I love Louise O'Neill's writing with a burning passion and so I have to love this book.

This book has a fair few problems. Firstly, the feminism is very overt and not remotely subtle. This will definitely annoy some people regardless of their political beliefs. Secondly, this follows the plot of The Little Mermaid almost identically so there aren't any surprises here. This is definitely a retelling rather than an reimagining and that may disappoint some people as well. Every beat of the story can be predicted which some may see as a huge flaw.

However, having said all that I could not put down The Surface Breaks. O'Neill is one of my favourite writers and I love her poetic, brutal, gut-punch prose. She packs so much emotion and bleakness into every line that it's hypnotic to read. Only Ever Yours is one of my favourite books ever and The Surface Breaks shares many of the same qualities as that, albeit done less subtly. The feminism fits the world less and the protagonist comes across as weaker given the change of setting from a dystopian society to an underwater one. However, it remains beautifully-written and certainly has a lot to say.

If you only read one O'Neill book, I would not recommend this one. That being said, this is a fantastic retelling of The Little Mermaid with strong themes of feminism, sexism and the dangers of not questioning your choices. It is full of heartbreak but also strong worldbuilding and a somewhat interesting take on the traditional story. I cannot wait to read the rest of O'Neill's work and this is a book I will not forget in a hurry.

Overall Rating: 4.5/5

4.5

Feminist twist on the original Little Mermaid story. I really liked the ending and I loved the message that the Sea Witch gave. I loved how dark it was too, I definitely want to read the original now!

I wasn't a fan of the characters however, I felt like most of them didn't develop or learn, and the main character's development happened in a matter of pages. The dominating man also seemed to be silenced way too easily which I feel is unrealistic to those suffering with such characters themselves. Also the world seemed a bit clumsy. For instance, why would mermaids have 'Saturdays' and any concept of minutes when I doubt they have any time pieces in the sea. Also the fact they're meant to know hardly anything about humans but already know the words for cake or planks of wood. It just seemed very inconsistent in that regard.

In all however I thought it was an interesting and entertaining retelling. I think it has a lot of important messages concerning sexism, equality, and strength. Though it would have been great to see more messages for men too... as a lot of the men were just branded as weak and made to look pathetic. We need strong female characters but we also need good male characters.

Very hard work but beautifully written. And the saddest thing about the book is it felt like all a storyline with those fantasy books I used to read as a kid, only with the tropes exposed as bad (at last). This was horribly depressing, but accurate.

I really enjoyed this one. It has a lot of elements of the original fairytale while adding new things to the story. The feminist aspect was quite fitting and didn’t annoy me at all. I felt sympathy for Gia and I loved her character arc. I wish we had a little epilogue of Oliver’s perspective to see if Gia had any impact on his life at all.

(Warning! This review includes an extensive summary and minor spoilers but nothing you wouldn’t already know if you’re familiar with the original story.)

The extent of my Little Mermaid knowledge comes from reading the Hans Christian Andersen translated story right before writing this review, seeing the live musical and watching the first five minutes of the Disney movie up until a shark swam on screen and I changed the channel to the much less terrifying Sound of Music (though I do feel compelled to mention, contrary to my four-year-old self’s belief, sharks are not inherently evil). So unlike many others, I didn’t read The Surface Breaks to relive my childhood nor with the intention of comparing it to Andersen's classic tale. I read it because I love the way Louise O’Neill captures her characters’ innermost thoughts and doesn’t shy away from the cold-hard truth. We’ve seen this brutal honesty set in the real world, we’ve seen it in a dystopian setting and now we see it translated to a fantastical world under the sea.

In The Surface Breaks, O’Neill makes a societal critique as usual but this time, also a critique of the original Little Mermaid story and its various adaptations. She asks us to re-examine these timeless tales. Do they really exemplify the messages we want to pass on to future generations?

So let’s take a look:
Andersen’s story describes a beautiful young (nameless) mermaid restricted to the confines of her father’s sea kingdom until her fifteenth birthday when she’s allowed to venture to the world above. Upon her first trip she spots a handsome prince who she falls head-over-heels-in-love with and saves from a shipwreck. Unable to get the prince out of her mind, she seeks guidance from the Sea Witch. The Sea Witch proposes a solution but in order to walk among humans, the little mermaid must give up her voice, reconfigure her body and endure unspeakable pain. The now voiceless mermaid/woman tries but fails to win the prince’s hand in marriage.

(To Andersen’s credit, his story is more progressive than many fairytales. After all, the little mermaid saves the prince—not the other way around—and longs for an immortal soul for her own happiness not just to attract the prince. Ultimately, the story portrays the little mermaid as a foolish character who sacrificed so much for mere infatuation so arguably the happy ending in the Disney version is more problematic)

Andersen’s story, though it takes more of a pragmatic approach then the Disney adaptation, doesn’t exactly scream “feminist”. And what O’Neill accomplishes in The Surface Breaks is not creating an ideal society where women are not oppressed, rather it’s an observation of the misogyny in the many preceding versions of this story and in our world in general. Any seemingly problematic thoughts her characters may have are intended to represent how we are all products of our society. O’Neill does not try to perpetuate these potentially harmful messages rather she quite blatantly brings them to our attention. (Reading some reviews, I noticed how other readers interpreted this differently so I just wanted to clarify how I see it, at least.)

“Well that’s not very happy,” you may say. And to that I answer: Happy is not what O'Neill is going for. She aims to capture the truth, or at least her perspective of reality. No sugarcoating.

In O’Neill’s reimagining, she explores the little mermaid’s character with stunning intricacy, delivering her usual specialty: unlikable characters that are so deeply complex you can’t but empathize with them.

In The Surface Breaks, Gaia a young mermaid (she’s called Muiregen in the sea kingdom since Gaia is not a sea name) renowned for her incomparable beauty and uncontested singing abilities, lives under her father’s (the Sea King) reign which, to put it lightly, is a feminist’s nightmare. Gaia and her older sisters live in fear of the father, restricted not just to the confines of the sea, but the predetermined image of what a woman should be. There’s a close bond between the sisters, but also deep-rooted jealousy. (Maybe possibly it has something to do with the way their father lines them up in order of attractiveness.) O’Neill attributes this stereotypical competition between women to the way society pits women against each other rather an innate desire to be the best.

Through her portrayal of a patriarchal society under the sea, O’Neill adds eerie familiarity to an unfamiliar setting.

The sea king, when talking to Gaia ’s betrothed says,
“If Muiregen were not my daughter, perhaps I would have chosen her for myself.”

(I wonder where we’ve heard that before.)

The world above the surface fascinates Gaia though she heard terrible stories about it like the one where the humans killed her mother. This fascination is discouraged—she’s allowed to break the surface only once on her fifteenth birthday and discover, as her father hopes, the horrors that lie above. On her fifteenth birthday, she travels to the surface and falls in (insta)love with a young man (Oliver) on a passing ship. After the Rusalkas (the notorious women of the sea who wreck boats and kill the male voyagers) threaten the passengers’ lives, Gaia drags Oliver unconscious body to safety.

With the passing weeks, Gaia can’t get Oliver off her mind. Becoming more and more frustrating with her life under the sea and her creepy fiance she has no choice but to marry, she finds Ceto (the Sea Witch who rules the Rusalkas) to request legs. Ceto is a particularly compelling character. Disney choose to villainize her (Ursala) but O’Neill took a more humanizing  (mermaid-izing?) route. She asks us to consider why Ceto’s seen as evil while the Sea King is revered.

Ceto agrees, but Gaia must give up her voice and endure the excruciating pain that come with her newly formed legs in return. She will survive as long as Oliver professes his undying love for her by her sixteenth birthday. Confident he will reciprocate her feelings, Gaia heads to the surface where she knows Oliver lives. Oliver finds Gaia on the beach outside his family's property. Enthralled by her inhuman beauty, he feels compelled to care for her and takes her to his estate where he lives luxuriously with his mother, Eleanor—the affluent owner of a successful ship business. Through Eleanor, an expertly crafted character who walks the moral tightrope, O’Neill explores the experience of a woman in a male-dominated industry.

Plunged into a life of following Oliver on extravagant adventures and avoiding Eleanor peering suspiciously over her shoulder, Gaia makes observations about the world around her. Since she’s unable to talk, her inner monologue is front and center. Gaia imagined the world above the surface to be a much kinder and accepting place, but she begins to understand that the oppression of women extends far beyond the sea.

As important and necessary all the messages O’Neill tries to communicate are, she piles it on a little thick. Her anger practically rolls off the pages and while this passion makes the book powerful, it’s a bit in-your-face. Had she cut down on the constant social commentaries, the messages would have been more effective because the readers could make observations themselves rather than feel smothered. She also tries to address every single issue faced by women and by doing so, convolutes the story and brushes over topics that deserve more attention.

Ultimately this book, though not entirely seamlessly, does what book should do: cause us to look at the world critically. Whether you watch The Little Mermaid every night before you go to bed or you’ve never made it past the opening credits, I think you could get something out of The Surface Breaks.

Atractivo, desafiante, pero se cae en ser una redención feminista. Esta es una historia de venganza por maltrato intrafamiliar y opresión de un padre déspota. Las cosas como son, esta sirenita sigue siendo una adolescente insegura que aprende una lección y es apoyada por una gran figura femenina, pero empoderamiento femenino no es.
Es una bella historia que le aporta mucho al cuento de Hans Christian Andersen, pero que trata de ser algo que no sale natural.