The thing is, he’s a sailor. Do you really think we’re supposed to believe a word he says? Isn’t this really all the fantasy of a desperately lonely, perhaps unbalanced individual?
If I had been out to write a conventional, coherent storyline, shifting between his and her perspective is almost certainly the route I’d have gone, I think. But I was really most interested in focusing on loss — especially the ultimate loss of extinction or genocide — and how people come to terms with that. I’ve always figured that myths and legends about the Land of Faery represent buried memories of the eradicated Picts, or other natives wiped out by the invading Celts. So for all I know the siren stories memorialize some other people eradicated by a mixture of warfare and forced intermarriage. Anyway, that’s the kind of mental stew that produced this pungent mind-fart. It is precisely because mermaids or sirens are such stereotypical objects of male longing that I wanted to employ them here, with a plankton-seining sailor trying to impersonate a horny humpbacked whale (Moby Dick?).
Also, note that in the last sentence he is in effect podcasting. I thought that was damned clever of me!