A review by conspystery
Summerwater by Sarah Moss

dark emotional reflective sad tense slow-paced
  • Plot- or character-driven? Character
  • Strong character development? It's complicated
  • Loveable characters? It's complicated
  • Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
  • Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes

4.0

 I’m conflicted about this book! 

Summerwater is told in a series of introspective yet quotidian vignettes, each centered around a different character; the main narrative thread drawing each character together is their residence, be it permanent or vacationing, in a particular cabin park in Scotland and on a particularly nasty, rainy day. I love this premise, and I think for the most part it works very well-- it reminds me of a very contemporary To The Lighthouse, in ironic structure, plot, character intricacy, and reflective musings about the meaning of human connection alike. 

Moss’s writing style here is beautifully casual, and each character is offered a distinct thought pattern in their chapters. All these people are complicated; all of them are more than they seem to be. Moss does a fantastic job of communicating that complexity in her writing, along with adding lyrical flair in interspersed depictions of wildlife between chapters. The natural world, however gloomy it is on the day the story takes place, is rendered with a careful poignance, complementing the quiet melancholy or dissatisfaction underpinning many of the characters’ stories. The gap between the anthropocene and the otherwise natural is wide and tangible-- but we also get to see the subtle similarities through those differences. 

My concern with Summerwater is, as many reviewers seem to agree, its ending.
I’m inclined to think the surprising nature of the fire, its overt out-of-left-field disturbingness and the dawning horror it evokes, is the point: all these people, who seem to have nothing in common, are drawn together by the tragedy, just as the wildlife is drawn together in the face of environmental deterioration caused by humans. There are parallels between the people and nature, as well insights about what we refuse to notice and the biases we pass on to those who look to us for guidance. The contrast between the fire and the water represents the disturbance and disruption of the environment by humans too preoccupied with their own goings-on to care, or even to notice when their worldviews promote harm to their own community. And thus, destruction, fire, tragedy. 

I can’t help but feel unsatisfied, though! Even if it was the point, I think the fire could have had much more of an impact with increased foreshadowing. This book thrives on irony; why not turn up its intensity? In the pages leading up to the fire, we do see some amount of this, especially with the focus on the horrible xenophobic little girl (her name eludes me at the moment). Ultimately, the book realizes its potential as a tragic warning about manufactured differences between humans, how we should not let classism and xenophobia and racism and sexism divide us lest our biases result in such a tragedy. I only wish there had been more, though. The ending’s suddenness almost undercuts its point… almost. It would have been far more chilling if it had been just a bit more predictable, I think.

Overall, I liked Summerwater, regardless of how I felt about its ending. Moss’s ability to entrench the audience in the minds of the different characters and shift flowingly between them is astounding; the writing shines in its complexity. The audiobook version, which I listened to, did an amazing job of communicating the story as well. I don’t think this book is for everyone, and I don’t think it’s perfect, but I enjoyed its reflection, however rainy and gray. 
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