My introduction to the fiction of Matt Bondurant is The Night Swimmer. Published in 2012, this novel poses the question of: what would happen to an American couple who win a pub in Ireland? The novel answers that question with "nothing special." It reminded me of The Shipping News if Annie Proulx had dangled the lure of a crime thriller over readers in order to sell books or maybe reshuffle where her novel was stocked on bookshelves, without bothering to include any crime in her story. I'm going to abstain from rating this book, which I started skimming judiciously once it was clear the author was writing something I didn't want to read.
The story is the first person narrative of Elly Bulkington, who recalls the events surrounding her husband Fred winning a pub in Ireland courtesy a spirits company. After demonstrating mastery in darts, pint pouring and poetry at a contest in Cork, Fred is handed the deed to a pub called the Nightjar. The couple relocate from their home on Lake Champlain in Vermont to the town of Baltimore in the southwestern corner of Ireland, situated near one of the more dangerous seas in the world. Having met in college as English grad students, Fred is a boisterous man's man who lucks into a successful career as a corporate trainer, a career he walks away from after switching places with a colleague killed in his place on 9/11.
Elly, and by association the author, loves the fiction of John Cheever, but unlike the author, realized--or allowed herself to be convinced--that she had no facility to be a writer herself. For lack of children or pets, her love is deep water swimming, a dangerous sport she excels at due to a condition called congenital hypodermic strata, giving Elly a fat layer under her skin that enables her to tolerate cold most people would not. While Fred sets up the pub and begins work on a novel, Elly spends most of her time on a nearby cape, where she meets goat herders and birders and odd folk, including a clan descended from pirates who run local construction and salvage operations.
The pirate clan want Fred to go home, the whole "locals rule" mentality where yokels who've lived in an area for a thousand years don't like outsiders coming in with their outsider ways. This threat isn't introduced until page 80/274 of the book, which throws a lot of Irish culture or swimming research at the reader first, and then becomes all Irish culture or swimming research. Even after the threat is introduced, it's dropped until page 246/274. Rather than a thriller of any kind, say Elly, Fred and their allies defending the pub against the pirates, Bondurant writes about swimming and Ireland. And I am nowhere near as interested in those subjects as he is.
Bondurant, who lives and teaches in Mississippi, deserves a special jury prize for not only writing about Ireland, but attempting to do so in an American woman's voice. He gets the words right, but the book never gets past its "idea" phase to any "story" phase. The Bulkingtons exist in a Hemingway novel. Their world is books and travel. Elly shows zero interest in the pub or helping her husband open a local business, the defense of which against thugs was the novel I wanted to read. As soon as an author dangles the takeover of an Irish pub in front of me, the novel better lead to the takeover of an Irish pub. This one didn't fulfill its most interesting promise.