A decade before Julián became a mermaid in Jessica Love’s Stonewall Award-winning Julián Is a Mermaid, this book celebrated the same gender creative Coney Island Mermaid Parade. First published in 2008 by G.P. Putnam’s Sons, then out of print until 2019, when author Melanie Hope Greenberg reprinted it herself through book distributor Ingram, it remains a joyous read.
Mermaids on Parade stars a girl who is excited about participating in the Mermaid Parade that marks the start of summer. With the help of her mom and dad, she dresses in a mermaid costume and heads out the door, where other costumed marchers are already gathering in her neighborhood. Greenberg evokes the sights and sensations of the event with the familiarity of one who has been there, with lines like, “The heat rising from the steamy sidewalk makes them seem to sway and shimmer. I can hear ocean waves pounding onto the shore and my heart beats faster” and “Screechy brakes from the subway trains overhead set off tiny fireworks, shooting sparks of light to join in the celebration.”
The narrator tells us about the various parade contingents she sees, the excitement of reaching the judges’ stand, and the Queen Mermaid cutting the ribbon in the ceremony that declares the beach open. The girl herself even wins a prize for “Best Little Mermaid,” and says the trophy will help keep the the parade alive in her memory, even as the neighborhood cedes its magic for another year.
Greenberg’s illustrations are richly detailed, the kind that will keep young (and old) readers poring over them again and again. The girl and her family appear White, but the neighborhood includes people of many skin tones.
The book is quietly queer inclusive, with mustached and bearded figures in dresses and mermaid costumes among the many participants. Are they drag queens? Women with mustaches? Transgender or nonbinary people? We don’t really know, but can imagine them all. Notably, too, the protagonist simply takes this all in as part of her experience. There is no questioning or explanation, because there is none needed. All are welcome and accepted at the parade.
The roots of the book are queer, too. Greenberg told me in an e-mail that librarians at the Brooklyn Public Library had asked her “to write about Brooklyn so kids can see themselves.” Greenberg also hung out at Superfine, a lesbian-owned restaurant, bar, gallery, and performance space in Brooklyn. One of the three owners asked her to march in the parade with their performance troupe, the Superfine Dinettes. Those experiences came together and the story was born. The Dinettes appear in the book, renamed as the East River Mermaids, Greenberg told me. She also dedicated the book to Superfine, among others—and hid an explicit visual reference to Superfine on one of the pages. Can you find it?
I’m so glad to see this back in print, not only for the queer content but also for the way it captures the spirit of a neighborhood through both words and images. Fans of mermaids, parades, expansive genders, and community celebrations should welcome it back onto their shelves.
