If you’re looking for your next read and your main wishes are: whimsical, palette cleanser, and something that doesn’t feel like work, I’m happy to introduce you to The House in the Cerulean Sea by TJ Klune.

If I had to sum it up in one sentence, it’s far from a perfect masterpiece, but it’s a lovely place to spend a few afternoons. The book does exactly what it sets out to do: it keeps your mind occupied without demanding you solve a complex geopolitical puzzle. It’s colourful, it’s whimsical, and the pacing is brisk enough to keep you turning pages even when you know exactly where the story is heading. In a world of “blood-pressure enhancers”, this book is a cup of chamomile tea. It’s the cosiest kind of fantasy.

However, if you’re looking for deep-ish, layered subtext, you might find Klune’s approach a little… loud. The book isn’t big on subtlety. Take the characters, for example. We have a cast of “magical outcasts,” including a child who is (literally) the Antichrist. The son of the Devil. It’s a fun concept, sure, but it feels a bit “on the nose,” doesn’t it? The metaphor for prejudice and “don’t judge a book by its cover” is hammered home with a velvet mallet.

Sometimes the “character tricks” feel a little manufactured to pull at your heartstrings. You can see the shadows moving behind the puppet show, which occasionally pulled me out of the immersion.

Is it high-brow literature that will change the way you see the world? No. But is it a fantastic way to reboot a brain that’s been fried by endless scrolling and 1,000-page masterpieces? Absolutely.

Overall boo.k rating

Keeping me off my phone:

If your brain feels like a tangled web of browser tabs, this is the fix. Neurographic drawing isn’t about being “good” at art; it’s about the process of transforming chaos into something structured and beautiful. It’s meditative, it’s rhythmic, and honestly, it’s a bit addictive.

Here is how to get started:

The “Brain Dump” Lines

Grab a piece of paper and a black marker. Close your eyes for a second, think about whatever is stressing you out, and just let your hand wander. Draw long, loopy, overlapping lines across the page for about 10 seconds. Don’t think. Just move.

Here we go, this looks a lot like the chaos in my brain most hours of the day. But I’m gonna put it in order by drawing some thicker barriers, adding a splash of color, and popping off those highlights.

The Soften (The “Neuro-Joining”)

This is the most important part. Look at where your lines intersect; they create sharp, jagged corners. We want to round those out. Think of it like adding “cells” or neurons. Fill in those sharp corners with ink so the intersections look smooth and organic, like branches merging or water flowing.

Add the “Life Lines”

Add a few more lines that travel from one edge of the paper to the other, cutting through your existing shapes. Round out those new intersections too. You’re looking to create a complex, interconnected web that feels “alive.”

I personally skipped this step, as I like the look of a central chaotic piece on a white background.

The Splash of Color

Now, colour your painter’s apron. Using watercolours,watercoloursr even those fancy colored pencils you’ve been saving, start filling in the shapes. Don’t feel like you have to stay in the lines for every single “cell.” Let the colours bleed into each other. Since we’re going for “big and bold” this week, don’t be shy and channel that Cerulean Sea energy.

Define the Highlights

Once the colour is down, add a few dashes of white in places you want to highlight, and blend them in so they seem incorporated in the piece. Then come back in with a thicker black marker and pick out a few “field lines”, thicker paths that lead the eye across the page. This adds depth and volume, and it’s a final step that brings the drawing to life. .

So, that’s the plan for the week: a little bit of whimsical reading to soften the brain, and a lot of ink and paint to rewire it.

I’m looking at my bedroom wall, which is currently blank and aggressively white, and then I look back at my small neurographic sketches. There’s something terrifying and exhilarating about filling space. We don’t have to stay stuck in the “skimming mode” of the digital world; we can choose to be deep and messy. We can choose to spend three hours on a single corner of a room instead of three hours on a single app.

I’m going to go pour another glass of water and pick up the paintbrush. I’ll likely have more paint on my face than the paper by the time I’m done, but that’s all part of the ride, right?

I’d love to know: what are you doing to reclaim your evening from the scroll this week? Whether it’s a “cerulean” read or a project of your own, tell me in the comments. Let’s keep the sit-in against the algorithm going.

Until next time, stay bold and keep those focus muscles moving.