Man meets selkie. After what seems a very long time, man makes sweet, sweet love to selkie. Man loses selkie. Unsurprising twist ending happens to man and selkie.
I know I could never pretend to be a romantic, but I have seen so many writers do so much more with so much less. The story in this novel could have been a trim short story, but it's bogged down in repetitive descriptions and pointless verisimilitude. Do I really need three meetings with an ex-girlfriend, complete with menu choices and chewing styles, before we dump her bony ass and leave Australia, never to return? I mean, really.
I know self-involved music types may seem like a great catch to many women, but it bums me out how the narrator thinks that all of his assholery is totally awesome and acceptable. Then again, what am I thinking?
Also, a word I can add to the dislike pile, along with whimsy and moist: ethereal.
Take a pass on this one, big time.