While I have a deep and abiding love for the Folk of the Sea, I have always found most of the selkie stories profoundly disturbing. That a man would think that his loneliness should justify the stealing of a woman's life so that his own would be more whole is not a thing of love. It is possession, perhaps obsession but it is not, no matter how pretty the stories try to make it, an act of love. The tragedy is doubled in that the selkie maid is put forever between choosing the life she has been exiled from and the lives that she has birthed on the land. The love in these stories always comes in the end, where the child looks upon their mother's hidden skin and set her free, no matter the cost to them all of that choice.