I decided on the Atlantic Ocean as the setting for The Oyster Thief because it’s the second-largest ocean in the world and is the ocean geographically closest to me. I made the decision lightly, but it meant a hefty extra layer of research—I had to ensure that every animal and algae mentioned in The Oyster Thief can be found in the Atlantic. (Another option would have been to set the story in a fictional ocean and to thus be able to mention any kind of algae or animal that exists.)
In addition to the setting, the story of The Oyster Thief is also as scientifically accurate as I could make it, where relevant. For instance, when Izar holds the scroll under tap water and it starts to lose form, that is a common phenomenon with salt water algae, due to osmosis.
A Cast of Characters
I envision Izar and Coralline as representing two polarities of the world—land and water, human and nonhuman, male and female.
I decided to have animal characters in addition to people, because animals add joy and beauty to our world.
I decided on a shark character, Pavonis, because sharks are among the most misunderstood and mistreated animals on the planet. Most people are terrified of them, but sharks kill less than ten people a year (generally mistaking them for other prey like seals), while people kill tens of millions of them a year. Sharks are often a by-catch of fishing and are also hunted for their fins, which are eaten in the form of shark fin soup.
I decided on a seahorse, Altair, because of the bizarre uniqueness of seahorses, from their appearance—they are a fish whose face resembles a horse’s—to their romance—not only are they monogamous, but lined seahorses dance every morning with their partners—to their reproduction—it is the male who bears the young.
I based animal appearances on their species, from Pavonis’s cavernous mouth and lack of eyelids to Altair’s color changes and tail coiled around a strand of grass.
During my readings about the ocean, I kept a running list of any words I liked that I could use as names. I decided that the names of most oceanic characters should relate to the ocean, though some could also relate to the universe, and the names of all land characters should relate to the universe.
I selected the name Coralline because coralline algae play a disproportionately important role in marine ecology, cementing coral reefs together. In addition to being rosy and beautiful, their strata are strong and powerful. I chose the name Coralline also because coralline algae can be considered symbolic of the human effect on the ocean—tens of thousands of tons of these precious calcified structures are dredged out of the oceans every year. Crushed to form a powder, they are used as agricultural fertilizer.
The name Izar, meanwhile, refers to a binary star. To the naked eye, it appears to be a single point of light, but it is actually two different stars close to each other (about two hundred light-years away from us and five hundred times brighter than the sun). Giving Izar’s background, I found it appropriate to name him after a binary star.
Other character names were also chosen with deliberation.
In addition to referring to a star, the name Zaurak originally derives from the Arabic word for “boat”—relevant, given Zaurak’s workplace. Castor is among the brightest stars in the night sky; the name sounded right for a source of underwater fire. Antares is a supergiant star that’s red in color; I found the name fitting for a character with giant ambition. Saiph is a star whose name derives from the Arabic term saif al jabbar, which means sword of the giant; the name seemed suitable for a character with a desire to kill. (The names of several characters in The Oyster Thief have Arabic origins because the names of many stars do.)
On the water side, the name Ecklon relates to Ecklonia maxima, or sea bamboo, a kind of kelp that’s strong and steady. Rhodomela comes from Rhodomela confervoides, or straggly bush; the hard pronunciation of the scientific name, accompanied by the unpleasant common name, sounded right to me for a character who appears harsh on the outside. Naiadum derives from Smithora naiadum, a delicate kind of red algae; the fragility of the algae made it a suitable name for someone ill. The name Abalone refers to the abalone snail whose inner shell consists of shimmering, iridescent nacre. I envision the character Abalone as possessing a pearlescent beauty; appropriately, her muse is a snail named Nacre. (Pearls form when abalones and other mollusks coat irritating particles, such as grains of sand, with layers of nacre.) The name Trochid refers to a large family of snails; I chose it because it complemented the name Abalone.
Although The Oyster Thief is set in the Atlantic, a few character names derive from oceans other than the Atlantic, just as some human names can be found across cultures. The names of most underwater settlements relate to algae, such as Hog’s Bristle, Purple Claw, Rainbow Wrack, and Velvet Horn. Blue Bottle, meanwhile, refers to a kind of peacock-blue jellyfish.
Concessions to Language
Merpeople, were they to exist, would not speak English. Their communication, in fact, might not involve speaking at all. (Sound does exist in the water, as do the other four senses, but it exists differently—it travels farther and four times faster in water than air, making its location difficult to pinpoint.) I stuck with English in the book for obvious reasons of ease and clarity.
I nonetheless grappled with words as simple as those representing color. Can Coralline describe something as olive-brown, given that she does not know what olives are? What about the word orange—can that be used, given that the name of the color originates from the fruit, and there are no oranges underwater? I decided to retain our ordinary usage of color, because I could not construe of equivalent terms.
A broader trouble with language when it comes to an underwater world is that our vocabulary is from land. Many ocean organisms have land-associated names. For instance, rose petal tellin, lettered olive shell, butterfly fish, lionfish, eagle ray—these names make reference to rose petals, olives, butterflies, lions, and eagles. Also, some names we’ve given ocean life have negative connotations, like devil’s tongue and devil’s apron. I saw no help for using these terms, but I shunned the word seaweed—because the ocean is not full of weeds.
The Elusive Elixir
The elixir in The Oyster Thief is symbolic. Each of us may have an “elixir” in our own lives, a goal that we’re striving toward. It could be to start one’s own business or to climb a mountain. My goal was to invent an underwater world. My quest toward this goal was enjoyable, but, like Coralline’s and Izar’s quest for the elixir, it was paved with obstacles.
I spent about two thousand hours over a period of two and a half years on the original manuscript for The Oyster Thief, but I decided to throw it all out, finding that I had no more than straddled the surface of my imagination. Over the next year, I ascended up to my home library every day to invent my underwater world, just as Izar descended into his Invention Chamber every night to invent underwater fire.
During this year, I became so immersed in my underwater world, and so absent-minded in my external world, that I sometimes felt as though I was in a trance. In this trance, I lost my passport. I forgot hundreds of dollars in an ATM. I routinely forgot to put detergent in the laundry. I neglected to turn on the lights when it got dark (then I would look about me, mystified by the darkness). I was on land and in the ocean at the same time—both when awake and asleep. Even upon shutting down my computer late at night, I couldn’t shut down my mind. Sleepy but sleepless, I would lie in bed writing notes to myself—a particular thought Coralline might be entertaining, an observation of Izar’s.