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3.68 AVERAGE
3.68 AVERAGE
Donal Ryan’s From a Low and Quiet Sea was longlisted for the Man Booker Prize and shortlisted for the Costa Novel Award in 2018. The novel follows three men, and is focused on a small town in Ireland, in which all three characters find themselves.
Our first protagonist is a Syrian refugee named Farouk, who has to leave his home and his career in medicine, and ends up losing far more before he reaches the safety of Ireland. We then meet twenty three-year-old Laurence, known as Lampy, who has reached something of a crisis in his life. He dreamed of a career, but now works in a care home, a job which he feels he is barely qualified for, and is nursing a broken heart. The third main character is an Irishman named John, who is reflecting upon his life, and the awful things which he has done. His narrative is the only one told from the first person perspective, and it is written as a confession to a priest.
Throughout, I was so interested in each of the characters, and their motivations. The prose in the first section, which follows Farouk, is exquisite, rich and textured. The section which follows Lampy has more matter-of-fact prose, and John’s falls somewhere inbetween. Taken together, these three men show rather a diverse picture of what it means to be a man in the twenty-first century, and the trials and tribulations which we could all face, if the circumstances were different.
Our first protagonist is a Syrian refugee named Farouk, who has to leave his home and his career in medicine, and ends up losing far more before he reaches the safety of Ireland. We then meet twenty three-year-old Laurence, known as Lampy, who has reached something of a crisis in his life. He dreamed of a career, but now works in a care home, a job which he feels he is barely qualified for, and is nursing a broken heart. The third main character is an Irishman named John, who is reflecting upon his life, and the awful things which he has done. His narrative is the only one told from the first person perspective, and it is written as a confession to a priest.
Throughout, I was so interested in each of the characters, and their motivations. The prose in the first section, which follows Farouk, is exquisite, rich and textured. The section which follows Lampy has more matter-of-fact prose, and John’s falls somewhere inbetween. Taken together, these three men show rather a diverse picture of what it means to be a man in the twenty-first century, and the trials and tribulations which we could all face, if the circumstances were different.
Loved these stories about how alone we are: mistakes made, hearts broken and connections found.
This is a story told from 3 major perspectives. We have a refugee who leaves his home to Ireland hoping to start a better life for his wife and daughter. We have a young 20 something who is working for a elderly care home and our last perspective is from an elderly Irish man who is dying.
When I first started this book I didn't feel like I was getting along with it very well but then I kept going and found that as the story progressed I really started to enjoy the story lines of the characters more and more.
I will say of the 3 separate narratives the refugees story was the least enjoyable for me. I think his story line was a little unnecessary for the story but I did like seeing how all three of these men ending up connecting at the end of the story.
I think as a ManBooker longlisted work this was beautifully written and it was an interesting story that really did make me think which is one of my favorite parts about the ManBooker works.
When I first started this book I didn't feel like I was getting along with it very well but then I kept going and found that as the story progressed I really started to enjoy the story lines of the characters more and more.
I will say of the 3 separate narratives the refugees story was the least enjoyable for me. I think his story line was a little unnecessary for the story but I did like seeing how all three of these men ending up connecting at the end of the story.
I think as a ManBooker longlisted work this was beautifully written and it was an interesting story that really did make me think which is one of my favorite parts about the ManBooker works.
I thoroughly enjoyed Ryan's previous Booker nominee (The Spinning Heart), and though I bought this upon its initial publication early in the year, I hadn't gotten around to reading it until its own Booker nomination. It's a quick read, taking only a few hours, but a lot is packed into the pages. Ryan's lush prose and deft characterization are once again in evidence, and his development of the interconnections between his three seemingly disparate story lines are worked out with some nice surprises, if a bit abruptly. I wouldn't be at all surprised if it makes the shortlist, and should that happen, I have a feeling I will reread it then.
Man, oh man, what a rough start to my Man Booker Prize year. Snap and Warlight were both terribly difficult to get through. Snap just wasn't Man Booker material; Warlight was a sleepy, emotionless read. But when I started in on From a Low and Quiet Sea, I saw brilliance and beauty and I knew that Man Booker season had taken a turn for the better. Hallelujah! And then, it took a turn, and another turn, and another. In the end I was so confused and lost. I don't know what happened. Let's go back to the beginning...
From a Low and Quiet Sea starts great. There's a beautiful meditation about the connectedness of trees. This serves as a metaphor for the story that follows—how we're all connected, how when one tree ails, others send nutrients through the soil. What follows are three seemingly unrelated stories that come together in the end. The first of these stories is about Farouk, a Syrian refugee struggling to provide a new life for this family. It's a common theme as of late, particularly in European literature, and there's nothing that feels fresh about this particular story, but it's done with great empathy and care. It was just enough to give me hope for a satisfying novel.
The second story was fine and in some way superior to the first, but in a book billed as a novel, a reader expects some connection to the first story. It's in no way evident. What we're given is the story of Lampy, an attendant at a care home. This story largely revolves around some mishaps Lampy has while driving these elderly people to their various appointments. This second story was as riveting as the first, but it felt more authentic.
And then, I don't know what happened. There's a third story, but the details of it felt disjointed. A religious man, John, clearing his conscious—lots of back story about the unexpected death of a sibling, an abusive sister, his own abuses, politics. I lost the story here. Unfortunately, I never found it again.
The final section attempts to connect all these threads, but it does so not in a direct manner, but by bringing in other perspectives. Attempts of cleverness are made by not naming characters immediately, but by referring to them. Other characters are introduced and blur with these primary characters. I didn't know what was going on anymore and I didn't care. This may have been a result of my own daftness, but I suspect it had more to do with the author being closer to the material than his reader. Whatever the reason, I didn't understand what the point was, or why so much effort was placed on putting these characters together.
In the end, I felt tricked. This wasn't a novel. It was a collection of three stories with some coincidental connection in the final pages. A connection that felt forced. A connection I still struggle to understand. But From a Low and Quiet Sea is still more of a novel than 2016 nominee, All That Man Is, so there's that.
I'm sure that I'll come across more works of Ryan's in the future, and I'm okay with that, because I liked his writing style and when this “novel” was strong, it was strong. It just lost something along the way and, in turn, it succeeded in losing me.
From a Low and Quiet Sea starts great. There's a beautiful meditation about the connectedness of trees. This serves as a metaphor for the story that follows—how we're all connected, how when one tree ails, others send nutrients through the soil. What follows are three seemingly unrelated stories that come together in the end. The first of these stories is about Farouk, a Syrian refugee struggling to provide a new life for this family. It's a common theme as of late, particularly in European literature, and there's nothing that feels fresh about this particular story, but it's done with great empathy and care. It was just enough to give me hope for a satisfying novel.
The second story was fine and in some way superior to the first, but in a book billed as a novel, a reader expects some connection to the first story. It's in no way evident. What we're given is the story of Lampy, an attendant at a care home. This story largely revolves around some mishaps Lampy has while driving these elderly people to their various appointments. This second story was as riveting as the first, but it felt more authentic.
And then, I don't know what happened. There's a third story, but the details of it felt disjointed. A religious man, John, clearing his conscious—lots of back story about the unexpected death of a sibling, an abusive sister, his own abuses, politics. I lost the story here. Unfortunately, I never found it again.
The final section attempts to connect all these threads, but it does so not in a direct manner, but by bringing in other perspectives. Attempts of cleverness are made by not naming characters immediately, but by referring to them. Other characters are introduced and blur with these primary characters. I didn't know what was going on anymore and I didn't care. This may have been a result of my own daftness, but I suspect it had more to do with the author being closer to the material than his reader. Whatever the reason, I didn't understand what the point was, or why so much effort was placed on putting these characters together.
In the end, I felt tricked. This wasn't a novel. It was a collection of three stories with some coincidental connection in the final pages. A connection that felt forced. A connection I still struggle to understand. But From a Low and Quiet Sea is still more of a novel than 2016 nominee, All That Man Is, so there's that.
I'm sure that I'll come across more works of Ryan's in the future, and I'm okay with that, because I liked his writing style and when this “novel” was strong, it was strong. It just lost something along the way and, in turn, it succeeded in losing me.
It’s not that I don’t appreciate the artistry, I just found myself wishing the end would speed up. The connections found in the last section are almost enough to quell my main gripe, the seeming interconnectedness and arbitrary choice of character - but not quite. I wish there had been more hints of where those connections were ahead of the denouement. Some great 3D characters created here, and some truly lovely prose. The plot just ultimately wasn’t my cup of tea.
This is undoubtedly a lovely and well written book, but I found myself admiring it rather than falling in love with it. If I had read it a month ago (before Booker madness began) I might have liked it more, but now it just isn't making the impression on me that several others on the list have. That said, I would have a beer with Pop any time! Booker longlist 6/13
This is effectively a collection of three shorter stories; snapshots of the lives of three different men who are grappling with their personal emotional difficulties. Like most other readers, I found Farouk's story the most engrossing and because this was the opening story, the book seemed to hold promise. When we moved on to Lampy's story, I began to get a little confused as to why we were moving from human tragedy to teenage heartbreak but I stuck with it. However, once John's story began, I had really lost interest in it all. I didn't feel any connection with his character and the ending failed to really bring it all together. I just didn't understand the point of it all.
I actually bought this as an audio book, so by the third story I found myself listening to it as much as possible during bus journeys and while doing my household chores just to get it over and done with (it's a book club read, otherwise I think I would have just cut my losses).
This seems to be the kind of book that appeals to people who enjoy reading beautiful prose and literature. I can appreciate that, but as someone who favours a good plot and well-written characters, this wasn't really my cup of tea at all.
I actually bought this as an audio book, so by the third story I found myself listening to it as much as possible during bus journeys and while doing my household chores just to get it over and done with (it's a book club read, otherwise I think I would have just cut my losses).
This seems to be the kind of book that appeals to people who enjoy reading beautiful prose and literature. I can appreciate that, but as someone who favours a good plot and well-written characters, this wasn't really my cup of tea at all.
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
medium-paced
Strong character development:
Complicated
Loveable characters:
Complicated
Diverse cast of characters:
Yes
Flaws of characters a main focus:
Yes