From Aquarium by Cynthia Alonso © 2018 by Chronicle Books
Review of Aquarium by Cynthia Alonso
San Francisco: Chronicle Books, 2018.
Reviewed By Samantha Piede
It is all too human to mistakenly presume that our desires mirror those of others: to fail to recognize when what we want for ourselves can sometimes conflict with what is best for those around us. In her 2018 debut children’s text, Aquarium (also published in Korean, Portuguese, and Spanish editions), Argentinian author and illustrator Cynthia Alonso offers us a reminder that this can be true not only for our interactions with one another, but with nature as well.
Aquarium wordlessly tells the story of a young girl who dreams of connecting with nature. In the early pages, she ventures forth to a local pier and stares into the water below, daydreaming about swimming among schools of fish and other marine life. Alonso’s decision to render her in a summer dress bespeckled with fish decals cues readers to believe that her preoccupation with the water may have been a long-term fascination. So, when a little orange fish leaps from the water and lands on the pier next to her, the girl can hardly contain her excitement. Rather than toss it back, she gathers the fish up in a plastic bottle and joyfully rushes home.
Once there, the girl tries to replicate the vastness of the fish’s environment by creating an artificial habitat in her living room. She bustles around her home, industriously filling pitchers, pots, and bowls with fresh water and connecting them with elaborate tubing so that the fish can swim between them. Eventually, the network is complete. Though the effort is makeshift, she has created a human-sized ‘aquarium’. The girl stretches out triumphantly in the center of the habitat, an overflowing kiddie pool, with the little fish by her side. Keen readers will recognize the angle of the image, as well as the girl’s pose and expression, directly parallel those of her daydreams. Perhaps she has finally fulfilled her dreams of living amongst fish.
However, her victory is short-lived. Her reveries are quickly disrupted when the little fish jumps out of the plastic pool, landing in a puddle of water leaking from the garden hose. As the girl bends to retrieve the fish, she spots her reflection in the water. The reflection of her dress creates an optical illusion, one that makes the single fish appear to be swimming in a much larger school. Immediately, the girl recants and rushes the fish back to the pier, letting it return to its home.
Alonso’s decision to render this story wordlessly adds elements of interpretive ambiguity that are sometimes lost in texts with pointed narration; we receive limited confirmation of our speculations about the characters’ inner lives. This narrative choice allows readers to speculate about the book’s resolution: What exactly is the nature of the girl’s failure? Why does her artificial habitat fail to give the fish what it needs?
From Aquarium by Cynthia Alonso © 2018 by Chronicle Books
Interpretations here may vary. For instance, readers may suggest that it has something to do with isolation: that a single fish cannot thrive without a school. Such a construal might privilege the reflection of the girl’s dress as well as the final image, in which the little girl is depicted swimming underwater with the orange fish and a larger collection of aquatic creatures. Perhaps what is lacking is same-species company. Others may cite concerns about “space,” noting that the kiddie pool and kitchen vessels are physically restrictive compared to a vast, natural body of water. Readers might point to the illustrations on the book’s inside cover, which features an illustrative pattern depicting fish tightly confined in singles, pairs, and triples in narrow bowls that allow little room for movement. Several of the fish point their faces upwards, possibly longing for escape. Others still might raise the issue of artificiality: that, even though certain discrepancies of space and company may be resolved in a human home, a human environment can never fully approximate a natural one – at least in ways that are satisfying for the creatures kept within it. Such speculations are ethically significant, especially in light of the book’s title. In choosing the title Aquarium, Alonso reminds us that these concerns are equally applicable to readers whose homes contain fish tanks, birdcages, ant farms, and other artificial microcosms. Readers are prompted to wonder: What does it look like to create the conditions for animals to not only live in artificial environments, but to thrive? Perhaps this venture is possible with the right conditions, or, alternatively, perhaps something about artificial habitats will always be lacking.
It is also notable that Alonso chooses to render the fish only as an orange outline. Because she avoids giving the fish any facial features, readers cannot attribute emotional responses to the fish in ways that humans typically recognize. We see the fish escape from its new habitat, but we do not know for certain what stimulated the reaction. We know only that it tried to be elsewhere. Alonso’s decision to render the fish a silent and expressionless actor means that we can only know it through its movement – and, even then, imperfectly. This opens space for questions about human interactions with and understandings of nature. Many people are quick to offer interpretations of animal minds based on human constructs and human needs as though they hold for all creatures. Like the protagonist, we may presume that animals seek our companionship simply because we seek theirs; we may not pause long enough to consider whether the desire is mutual. Conversely, we might claim the fish is ‘lonely’ in isolation because, were we to be confined away from other humans, we would be lonely. We might describe the tight spaces of water glasses as ‘stifling’ for a fish because small spaces would be insufficient for us. The lack of confirmation from the fish may force readers to pause and contemplate that other species’ minds and needs may be in some ways like our own, but, in others, dramatically distinct. This may stimulate readers to consider the challenges of interacting with species whose needs are not as easily telecasted to us as other humans’. How do we ensure we are acting with their best interests in mind, rather than our own desires?
Aquarium is a rare text that, through its silences, creates palpable openings for dialogue, rather than neat answers. In saying so little – at least in words – Alonso makes space for young readers to say so much more.
From Aquarium by Cynthia Alonso © 2018 by Chronicle Books