Review: $20,000 Under the Sea by Sam Locrian

An exceptional high-stakes drama on the high seas that brims with encroaching horror, $20,000 Under the Sea by Sam Locrian is a timely historical commentary and a masterclass in psychological suspense.

In this alternate historical timeline of 1920, an elite but odd cadre of unusual characters arrive on board The Prince’s Emblazoned, a luxury liner bound for adventure, with gambling on international waters, and a healthy dose of ulterior motives. The larger-than-life quartet of entangled protagonists is set to duke it out in a poker game, which includes a pot that may be big enough to die for. However, there are far more sinister forces and dangerous games afoot once fate comes calling from the deep.

After the author establishes the intense character drama that fuels the first quarter of the book, the more sinister plot emerges, one that shifts this novel from a meticulously penned cozy crime thriller into an astonishing piece of dark fiction. The darkness that awaits the unlikely companions is something out of a Gothic nightmare, but the subtle drip of fantastical elements throughout the early chapters makes the genre transition seamless. When disaster strikes the opulent vessel, bullets begin to fly and deadly lines are drawn; the descent to a city under the sea, and the perennial fear of the deep, forces unlikely alliances and a steady stream of big reveals that give this ominous piece of storytelling undeniable momentum.

Though on first glance, the premise – and title, which is the weakest element of the novel – may seem like a pure genre yarn, the mesmerizing writing unfurls like a linguistic buffet for readers who prefer to fully immerse themselves in magnificently sharp characters and richly laid scenes. Not a single figure appears on these pages who is not intriguingly described or lavishly introduced, from the precognitive poker player and the vengeful debutante to the xenophobic accountant and the endlessly scheming shark.

Not only are these characters lovingly introduced, but their arcs are spectacular and unpredictable, even as the story spirals into chaos, violence, and desperation. The swirling motives of the core players make the dialogue drip with double meanings over cocktails, felt tables, and bloody floors, while Locrian’s narrative brilliance brings every sway of a ship and side-eyed glance into meaningful focus. Philosophical, poetic, and unexpectedly clever, there are nudges of humor from Carol, Lamont, Beau, and others that offer levity, matched against a remarkable range of vocabulary and verbal dexterity in the prose.

Landing somewhere between Proust, Vonnegut, and Lovecraft, the writing operates on numerous critical levels – examining the existential fears of the world following the Great War, highlighting necessary power shifts in traditionally gendered roles, and reminding us that the looming horrors of the present are merely echoes of the past. From start to finish, the lyricism, insight, and sheer intelligence of this novel are relentless, without losing a step on snarky asides or stunningly descriptive moments of minutiae.

There are occasional passages when the writing veers into the verbose, and readers may feel impatient with the pace, but for those willing to savor the prose, the payoff is exquisite. Original, expertly crafted, and genre-defying, the novel is a rare combination of literary fiction and thriller that works on both fronts.