Book Review: John Boyne's 'Water' sees him write in a woman's voice
John Boyne, author, at his home in Dublin. Pic: Moya Nolan.
- Water
- John Boyne
- Doubleday, €13.99
Novels are getting shorter, or so it seems. Mike McCormack’s latest novel, came in at 179 pages, and now here is John Boyne, a popular and very successful writer, presenting his 14th adult novel, , in a mere 166 pages. Is it a knock-on effect of the huge success of Claire Keegan’s even shorter “novels”, one of which was shortlisted for the Booker Prize? Or is it a mere coincidence?
In Boyne’s case, it is perhaps more complicated than it seems. is the first volume of a quartet of novels, to be followed by , , and , each separate and complete in itself, but whose characters 'intersect and overlap, their experiences informing the lives of each other'’, according to the press release.
Certainly, is complete in itself, and a fully satisfying read. Written in a woman’s voice, the narrator takes charge from the very first sentence: ‘The first thing I do when I arrive on the island is change my name.’
She has been Vanessa Carvin for 28 years, but before that, she was Vanessa Hale for 24 years. Her middle name is Willow, and she adopts the name Willow Hale on arriving on the island.
The next thing she does is to shave her head, losing the expensively coiffed, shoulder-length blonde hair that has identified her for all her married life.
The cottage she has rented on this small, fictional island not far from the Aran Islands, is more austere than what she is used to, its single bedroom with a single bed suggesting a simple, monastic life very far from her life in suburban Terenure.
For a start, the only WiFi on the island is in the old pub.
Remote off-shore islands with eccentric locals and enigmatic incomers have become something of a literary cliché of late, most famously in . But Boyne, a master of his craft, stops just the right side of cliché with his cast of island characters.
From the cat, Bananas, to the fierce, shouty Mrs Duggan, her beautiful David Bowie-lookalike son, Luke, the gentle, young Nigerian priest, Ifechi Onkin, and the monosyllabic blow-in publican with a dark past, they all ring true.
The same can be said of Willow Hale, whose story is revealed in leisurely flashbacks as she gets used to her pared-back island routine, so different from her previous life: ‘In Terenure, I was a member of a book club, but that was mostly because I could find no way out of it.’
We learn that this sharp-witted narrator is partly estranged from her daughter Rebecca, that her older daughter Emma is dead, her disgraced husband, Brendan, is in jail, and that she, as his wife, is assumed to be complicit in his crime.
Willow Hale turns out to be a most likable character, at least to my taste — throwing away her expensive make-up, skinny-dipping in the night sea, taking a younger lover, and sipping from a bottle of whiskey bought on the excuse of having something to offer visitors.
It is an indication of Boyne’s ability as a novelist that he can write so convincingly in a woman’s voice, producing a story that is unequivocally pro-women.
Brendan was a kind and attentive older husband, a 34-year-old virgin when they married, with a repressed, insecure attitude to sex. It took Willow too long to realise the extent of his repression and the seriousness of his crimes.
She can now see a pattern of such selfish, bullying behaviour in certain men of Brendan’s generation.
While being strongly pro-women, this novel also loudly denounces the behaviour of a previous generation of self-centred, toxic men.
