Move Like Water: My Story of the Sea

by Hannah Stowe

A book to sweep you away from the shore, into a wild world of water, whale, storm, and starlight ― to experience what it’s like to sail for weeks at a time with life set to a new rhythm.

As a young girl, Hannah Stowe was raised at the tide’s edge on the Pembrokeshire coast of Wales, falling asleep to the sweep of the lighthouse beam. Now in her midtwenties, working as a marine biologist and sailor, Stowe draws on her professional experiences sailing tens of thousands of miles in the North Sea, North Atlantic, Mediterranean, Celtic Sea, and the Caribbean to explore the human relationship with wild waters. Why is it, she asks, that she and so many others have been drawn to life at sea―and what might the water around us be able to teach us?

Braiding her powerful and deeply personal narrative with stories of six keystone marine creatures―the fire crow, sperm whale, wandering albatross, humpback whale, shearwater, and the barnacle―Stowe invites listeners to fall in love, as she has, with the sea and those that call it home, and to discover the majesty, wonder, and vulnerability of the underwater world.

For fans of Rachel Carson and Annie Dillard, Move Like My Story of the Sea is an inspiring, heartfelt hymn to the sea, a testament to finding and following a dream, and an unforgettable introduction to a deeply gifted nature writer of a new generation.

Genres: Memoir, Nonfiction, Nature, Science, Animals, Audiobook, Science Nature

288 pages, Paperback

First published June 1, 2023

About the author

Hannah Stowe was raised on the Welsh coast, in a cottage next to the sea. She developed a yearning for adventure and knowledge, a desire to see what was over the horizon. Hannah took to sea at the age of 18, and has since sailed the North Atlantic, crossed the North Sea, explored the Mediterranean, the Caribbean and the Baltic.

Hannah currently lives in Dresden, Germany, writing, painting, and sailing her own boat named Larry, a 114 year-old gaff cutter.

Reviews

[Josh Mlot]

3.5 stars

"Move Like Water" is part memoir, part nature writing. I spent much of the book trying to figure out if the balance of those things felt right—or at least how it matched what my expectation was going in. Some of it was more straight marine biology, which was interesting and certainly still worked for me as someone who has a particular interest in the natural world; but at times the meshing of Stowe's personal story with the science/nature aspects of the book felt slightly disjointed—possibly because some of that nature stuff was compelling and I wasn't sure if the personal narrative ever quite reached the same pitch. There are moments it worked really well (I thought the 'Albatross' chapter was a high point), and others that felt more constructed.

That said, I did find this book informative and interesting, and Stowe's love for the ocean shines. In that way, this book is highly successful. I walked away from it with a greater admiration for the ocean than I had going in.

The bottom line is if you have an interest in ocean-adjacent nature writing, this book has something for you. If you want the memoir portion to carry the water (pun intended), you might be left a little wanting. However, I've seen other reviewers respond differently, so this may have just been the specific way I connected with the material.

Thank you to Tin House for providing an advanced copy of this book.

[Grace McGraw]

Move Like Water by Hannah Stowe is such a cool mix of memoir, marine life, and reflection. It felt like reading someone’s journal in a personal and detailed way. I loved how her connection to the sea wasn’t just scientific but emotional too. You could really feel her love for it.

It had me pausing to look things up and also just sitting with what she was saying. It’s one of those books that quietly teaches you something while pulling you into her world. I am really glad I got to read it.

Thank you for the ARC. This is my honest and voluntary review.

[Jolanta (knygupė)]

Poetiškas liūdesys dėl nykstančių banginių.

[Syn]

Reading this book was like stepping into the ocean, feeling the wind around you, tasting the salt on you lips and experiencing the creatures and moods of the water as if the words of this book are liquid art.

This book is so beautifully written, emotional, insightful, heartful, and vibrant. The poetic ebb and flow of it made it a delight to read. This is a nonfiction book that was pure poetry and an experience of the ocean that is vivid and alive. A truly exquisite read.

[Rachel]

Move Like Water: My Story of the Sea by Hannah Stowe is a beautifully written memoir and journal full of nature, the open waters, and all of the unknown.

This book is a wonderful combination of personal memoir, nature journal, nonfiction, and brings to light not only the author’s own story and path, but the fundamental questions we all reflect upon while we are surrounded by nature and the ever vast seas.

The author does a wonderful job portraying her personal experiences and observations, but also the world and our relationship with it, when looking at several creatures that she has encountered and learned from in her travels and studies.

The images she creates on paper became very emotional and vivid for me, and I found myself more than once almost feeling as if I was experiencing what she has and finding myself reflecting on my life, my purpose, my path, and how my faith guides me in these issues.

Very lovely and though-provoking.

5/5 stars

Thank you NG and Tin House for this wonderful arc and in return I am submitting my unbiased and voluntary review and opinion.

I am posting this review to my GR and Bookbub accounts immediately and will post it to my Amazon, Instagram, and B&N accounts upon publication on 9/19/23.

[Kya Fee]

Inspiring, adventurous, but also deeply personal. A little slower because of the interjections of academic writing but it’s all a part of the plot. Nice to read something about a young woman in our time making big moves in the world!

[Sian Lewis]

Beautifully written that gets to your senses. I could feel the wind, the waves. I could hear the sounds of the sea and the songs of the whales. Hannah took me back to Pembrokeshire where most of my childhood was spent. Playing and learning from nature and the sea.
Her dedication to learning about the sea and it’s magical creatures is inspiring, especially through pain and sheer determination.
Read, learn and feel it
Also the delicate illustrations by her mother add to the sensuality.

[Bora Logbook]

Este libro te invita no solo a leerlo por el placer de leerlo, si no a aprender sobre el océano, a reflexionar sobre la problemática medioambiental y de los animales que en él habitan y a sentirnos cada vez más en conexión con lo que nos rodea.
La autora nos abre la puerta no solo a sus conocimientos si no también a su propia historia personal de superación, a sus miedos, ilusiones e inseguridades.
Me ha gustado mucho, ahora, eso sí, es una lectura más lenta y técnica.

[Nursebookie]

Move Like Water by Hannah Stowe is one of those books that just clicks—it flows with such ease, both in its writing and its message. The idea of embracing change, letting go, and finding strength in surrender is woven so beautifully throughout. It’s not just about surviving the tough stuff, it’s about learning to move with it, like water finding its path. The metaphors with nature hit hard, but in the best way. If you’re looking for something that makes you reflect on how you handle life’s ups and downs, this is it.

The book is all about resilience, letting go, and learning to move with life’s flow, not against it. Her writing is so calming yet powerful, like a gentle reminder to stop fighting the current and just be. If you're into books that make you stop and think about the way you handle change, this one’s for you.

[Grace Philpott]

This book reignited my love for the ocean. Having studied marine science for a number of years, I feel I got lost in the academic side, and lost the real reason for wanting to work with the ocean. But reading this book has helped me find my way back.

[Elena]

This book is a strong contender for being considered art. It combines artistic and scientific perspectives of the sea, romance and beauty with scientific practicalities. I fell in love with it and I highly recommend it. Also I want the author’s job.

[Alfonso Rodríguez]

Hay algo de terapéutico y enriquecedor en este libro, que nos habla tanto del océano de sus cachalotes, de sus aves migratorias y de sus percebes, como de la resiliencia y la eterna necesidad del ser humano de hacerse a la mar.

Hannah Stowe nos regala un pedazo de ella misma, mientras nos abre los ojos hacia los esfuerzos de estudio y conservación del océano que existen hoy en día, sin dejar de lado el arte de narrar: y además lo hace con ilustraciones bellísimas.

[Malo Gloux]

Superbe livre, je m’y suis plongé aussi rapidement qu’un fou de bassant dans l’eau pour chasser.

Un très bel hommage à la mer mais aussi au travail et à la vie de Hannah Stow.

Je vous recommande de le lire que ce soit pour la beauté de l’écriture et du voyage mais aussi pour la remise en question de nos habitudes de vie.

[Jaer Mertens]

Three stars means 'I liked it', which is more than fair for this book. The book is a personal memoir of the author Stowe, who uses this book to share her love for the sea with us. The personal anectdotes are cleverly woven into the structure of the book. The structure consists of seven chapters, each named after a creature of the sea; fire crow, sperm whale, human, wandering albatross, humpbag whale, shearwater, and barnacle. Stowe uses these chapters to teach us about the lives of these animals, but she also craftily uses these animals as analogies for different stages of her life.

We follow her life's journey chronologically through various episodes - her health challenges, her desire to be close to the sea, and her study to become a marine biologist.

Although the structure of the book is creative and well thought off, the links between the personal life and the wild life some times feel a bit too meager. For some chapters if feels too much as if one sentence is being used to string both pieces together. I think it would've benefited to book if these two sides of each chapter would been more interwoven. The result we're left with in the current state sometimes feels like wikipediaesque descriptions of animals, alternated with very personal, almost tumbleresque anecdotes of her life. This especially rings true for the first half of the book, the second half of the book felt much more natural. Perhaps this is due to the fact that Stowe grew into her own writing style towards the latter half of the book, or perhaps it's because I simply only caught onto the style later into the book.

Anyway, the parts where she's living out of her van or living on various research vessels were very inspiring and made me want to live a life like that as well. Close to nature, observant, contributing to the scientific field.

[Nakedfartbarfer]

Lovely nature memoir. The author spends a lot of time talking about her back pain, hence the title. I hope she got rehab--Low Back Ability on YouTube saved me. A dreary orator but the only realistic plan I have found:

A progression from thirty-second isometric back extension holds-->high-rep bodyweight back extensions-->weighted back extensions-->bodyweight jefferson curls-->weighted jefferson curls. This would be over the course of one to two years, so as to allow time for the soft tissue to catch up with the much speedier muscle growth (preferably as a part of a broader strengthening regimen!). Throw plenty of front/side planks & Russian twists (or some other multi-planar movement, not just the sagittal!) in there once it's less painful.

Expect flare-ups and setbacks. No one needs to be a power lifter and it's not a question of badass you are. Systematically tracking & challenging yourself with weights is the most abbreviated way to stay mobile & capable. If a movement hurts, regress to a smaller movement that doesn't hurt, or is (at the very most) a 3/10 on the pain scale. Good luck!

[Megan O’Keefe]

Beautifully written, with rich imagery connecting the author’s observations of marine life to her personal health struggles as well as her transformative experiences at sea. I only wish the author would have let the reader in to her inner world even more—I truly enjoyed when she did this in the “Human” chapter.

At times, the story was enhanced by the lyrical writing style, and at others, I felt that I was sifting through copious details and found it difficult to follow along. At the same time, I can see how others might really enjoy this journal-like style. I deeply appreciated the extensive research and conservationist theme woven throughout the book. The author truly does inspire and motivate us to mitigate our impact on the ocean. Overall, a rich, soothing read that made me appreciate the beauty of the ocean and its creatures!

[Kate Meberg]

Even though I am fortunate to live in a coastal town, this book makes me yearn for the sea.
At the end Stowe says she hopes this book is akin to holding an ocean in your hands, with beautiful storytelling she definitely achieved this.

[Julea Bartch]

Lovely, lovely, lovely. Soothing and smooth, interesting while also raw. Stowe says "my aim for the book was to give you an ocean to hold in your hands," and as a girl who loves ocean books, I can say it was a delight to add these waters to my collection.

[Cristina]

Maravillosa autobiografía de la autora que narra algunos de los mejores momentos de su vida, así como algunos de los más duros, a través de su amor por el mar y su Pembrokeshire natal. Aporta también sus conocimientos científicos lo cual te ayuda a comprender mucho mejor los océanos y sus habitantes, así como su importancia para nosotros.

[Sophie Maxwell]

A beautiful memoir from a truly resilient and bold wayfinder. Lovely mix of nature writing, advocacy and personal reflections tying together a remarkable few years of Stowe's exploratory life on the water. I miss the British coast ♥️🪸

[Alicia Hempseed]

A true joy to read. Beautiful from start to finish with both incredible storytelling of ocean life and enjoyable insight into Hannah’s own personal life journey.

[Tatyana]

Beautifully written memoir of the life at sea, of love for marine beings, about ways of water.
Very informative, adventurous, and at times sad; a perfect balance of strength and vulnerability.

[sylas]

Gorgeous. Heartbreaking. Her writing is so evocative and it was lovely as audiobook. Highly recommend.

[Natasha Rosam]

Thank you for sharing your magic! I loved this book. I have always loved the ocean, growing up in Devon and now living in Brighton. I feel a stronger connection after reading Move Like Water. I learnt a lot about the authors relationship with nature and in turn, reflected on my own. Did it make me want to return back to studying, leave the country and become a marine biologist? Absolutely. I loved the way this book was written, a magical mix of nature, science, personal anecdotes and love.💙🐳

[Isabella]

a lovely memoir about the author’s interaction with and love of the sea. the book is a cross between flowing prose describing stowe’s life and very detailed scientific writing on the sea and various sea creatures; I liked both but at times didn’t love switching between the two or getting (Really!) into the science of it all. the writing toward the end felt messy and unedited and it wrapped up too quickly. stowe also pushed a lot of guilt onto the reader due to climate change’s effect on the sea and sea creatures - I felt like that didn’t quite hit as it should. I think I only enjoyed because 1) I love the sea so much, 2) I resonated with stowe as she went through a health crisis in her mid-20s, and 3) the prose was beautiful. will be a great read for certain people.

[Amanda Gibson]

With prose that mimics the swell of the sea, Hannah Stowe takes us on her journey of her love affair with the sea and the animals that make it their home. I learned a lot, and experienced a way of life to which I’m not privy. This book can be dense at times, but don’t give up. The book is gorgeous.

[Enchanted Prose]

A love letter to the majestic beauty and lifegiving powers of the ocean world (Pembrokeshire, South West Wales, and sailing the North, North Atlantic, Mediterranean, Celtic, Caribbean seas; mid-2010s to present): If it only takes 120 minutes a week for humans to feel the benefits of being in Nature, what does that tell us about Welsh-born Hannah Stowe who says, “There was never a time when I did not know the sea”?

For Stowe, who grew up in a “cottage by the sea,” enveloped on three sides by the waters of St. Bride’s Bay that empties into the Celtic Sea and the English Channel, she found “solace,” “energy,” and “always felt safe.”

Tucked away on a secluded tip of the southwestern coast of Wales, lulled by a “lullaby” of “gentle worlds,” Hannah Stowe learned to swim when she learned to walk. Fascinated by “celestial light” and the “beacon, of Strumble Head Lighthouse,” she climbed treetops to get better views of the seascape, bicycled to the rocky beaches where she explored coves, tidal pools, eyed sea birds, seals, dolphins, snorkeled, surfed, and became “obsessed” with walking the Pembrokeshire Coastal Path, considered one of the most beautiful walking paths in the world.

For Stowe, this meant “there was a current inside me” “as natural and as essential as the act of breathing.”

For us, it means Move Like Water: My Story of the Sea is a captivating, coming-of-age story of a sea observer, navigator, researcher who became a marine biologist offering us an authentic voice for the sea. It also means you’ll be treated to some of the most exquisite nature writing, awakening and refreshing us to ocean worlds we may get glimpses of but haven’t experienced in the immersive, intensive way Stowe has.

Stowe’s story highlights the growing body of research and a movement called Ecopsychology, which provides scientific evidence on the connections between our physical and mental health. Transporting us to how she’s felt and what she’s learned over her twenty-something years “being out there in the elements” that “creates an entirely different state of mind.”

More expansively, the memoir makes the case for how our health is affected by the health of our waters, Stowe having witnessed the human impact of commercial exploitation and climate change on the health of the marine animals who depend on them.

A story that’s painted with vivid imagery by an author who, like her mother, is also a painter. Each chapter is introduced presumably by one of Stowe’s charcoal sketches of the animals you’ll learn about. If it weren’t for the beauty of the prose, you could almost tell this story through images. Then again, if it weren’t for enchanted prose those images would not be painted for you at all or as deeply.

That’s why there’s six chapters named for seabirds and sea mammals – giant, large, and small: Fire Crow (the Cornish Chough), Sperm Whale, Wandering Albatross, Humpback Whale, Shearwater, and Barnacles.

Only one chapter, Humans, veers dramatically different, although the lure of the sea is fundamental to Stowe’s recovery, healing. Riding a wave bigger than she could tackle, she suffered a serious accident, leaving her in excruciating nerve pain, two surgeries, and a lifetime of adjusting to knowing her limits when they seemed limitless. In spite of it all, when Stowe could get out of bed she returned to her university science studies and later bought her first sailboat she aptly renamed Brave.

If you’ve been raised as a city slicker, you might find Stowe’s remote UK homeplace terribly lonely rather the sustenance she derives from natural landscapes with endless horizons and stunning wildlife, including sightings of majestic sea creatures and discovering smaller delights.

There’s too many seabirds to list. To give you a sense of an impressive one, here’s a description of the Manx Shearwater:

“Elegant of wing, making a long gliding journey north from South America, up the eastern seaboard, following the Gulf Stream, to take up residence in burrow nests on Skomer, Ramsey, and Skokholm” (islands in Wales where the world’s majority breed).

The memoir, then, is a mix of the personal with the science, ecology, history, and the living, breeding, birthing, nurturing conditions of an amazing winged creature known for its ability to migrate thousands of miles from their homes.

Stowe’s prose is vibrant, tingling with an itch to explore seas around the world beyond the “western edge of Britain, the edge of my world.” Even if you’re not a sailor, you’ll relate to how “bonds form quickly at sea, when “you are trusting each other [sailmate(s)] with your life.”

The first ocean going vessel discussed is the Valiant 40, a research vessel Stowe volunteered to assist on led by Professor Hal Whitehead, a global expert on cetaceans – whales, dolphins, porpoises. Meeting his then doctoral student Laura Feyrer inspired her career direction. Now we see the author as a strong feminist voice rising above male-dominated traditions when it comes to the sea who had to “work twice as hard for half the opportunity. You prove everything, and prove it ten times again.” Loved the irony when Stowe points out boats are named after women!

It was on this expedition that Stowe, manning the deck in the dark of the night, “felt a deep presence” of an “ocean giant.” Awe, in hearing a sperm whale’s eerie whale songs. “The loudest single animal in the ocean” shows us the importance of sounds, not just sightings.

The whale is a persuasive example of environmental activism making a huge difference as these giants almost became extinct in Antarctica in the mid-sixties. Boycotts, quotas, bans, and legislation made it illegal to kill whales for commercial reasons, though a few countries still do.
Stowe’s captivating journey continues to enlighten and carry us to other sea creatures, such as the Wandering Albatross, a “bird of legend” known for the “mastery of its force” flying through fierce winds, requiring both parents to switch turns to care for their young.

And then, “Sometimes, something is just beautiful. You don’t know why, it just is, and the world is better for the fact that it exists,” Stowe writes. The literary world is better for her story of the sea. She hopes, so will the health and future of the seas.

[Cheryl]

I felt I could sense the vast expanse of the planet’s water. It is common to split the water into five oceans: the Arctic, the North and South Atlantic, the North and South Pacific, the Indian Ocean, and the Southern Ocean. There are numerous seas, and how and whether you divide them is dependent on culture and language. Different patches feel different, have higher or lower salinity. They have different weather. Hot quick squalls in the Caribbean. The wild endurance of an Atlantic storm. The desperate chop of the North Sea that never sits right with me. The brackish quiet of the Baltic. The different shades of blue, azure to lapis, jewelled to dark. And yet all of these areas of water are connected. Sitting there in my small cove on the Pembrokeshire coast, I wanted to see them all, feel them all. I would try and reach with my mind to the very edges.

A mix of Rachel Carson and the Eliot Rappaport’s Reading the Glass: A Captain's View of Weather, Water, and Life on Ships I read earlier this year, and even beyond that, some Mary Oliver-esque poeticism, to lyrical writing of one of my favorite subjects in a way that resonated deeply with me. Ten stars, 20 stars, all the stars, bravo.

To be at home in the ocean as well as on it and along its shores seems hard to find sometimes; I am definitely not at home on it, but those who are aren’t always into swimming in it or exploring shores and the life that flourishes all those areas. This book covers all of the areas with a focus, like whales or albatross, and some informative science and wonder along with her memoir.

My only complaint is that it was so short, but the author is also very young, now 30, and hampered by a chronic back injury so this is not written from decades at sea, but some concentrated years and trips where she lived fully in late adolescence and now described it beautifully so we could be there also in our mind’s eye.

The water moved around me. Moved through me. I felt the shape of it, the subtleties. I did not know then that this love for the ocean would shape my studies, paintings, words. That the water would take me both from and to loved ones. But the sensation of moving with—moving like—the water stayed with me, and is with me still.

The ink of the sea and the sky merged in a midnight abyss, and it was hard to tell whether we were sailing through water or air. As the boat moved, the wake shone with the most beautiful, luminescent turquoise. I have never seen such a colour before or since, streaks of magic lighting up the night.

There was never a time when I did not know the sea. As I lay in my cradle at my mother’s feet, day after day, the salt wind blew around our home. It mingled with the honeysuckle that curled around her garden studio, sweet-scented and dappling light as she coaxed gentle worlds to paper with paint. The small, strong oak trees my father had planted when I was born bent and twisted to that wind, framing my world. A hushed roar, water on sand and stone as the tides ebbed and flowed, both rhythm and rhyme. At the start, it was only a lullaby.

There was a current inside me. At times, it swept along straight and true, serene on the surface, but determinedly fast flowing. At others, the winds of life would turn against the tide, steep over falls would whip up in seconds, and I would rage, tempestuous. And sometimes. Sometimes the water flowed to a deeper place. A place where I could still see the light streaking through from the surface, and yet I felt compelled to stay quietly in the dark. This was, this is, my nature. Days and years added length to my limbs, strength to my muscles and all the while, the salt song grew louder.
I wanted an odyssey of my own. I wanted to explore, to fill the edges of my mind with the edges of the world, to come back with a hundred answers and a thousand more questions. I wanted to ride the wind and swim in other seas.

Sitting in my perch up the mast, my feet dangling out into open air as the boat moved on the wind, I felt as if I could absorb the motion of the world around me, that I was a part of all of it. I think the best sound I ever heard was the tall loud blow of a fin whale as it surfaced. A loud puff on a quiet ocean as the long pillar of whale breath reached towards the sky. I had found the offshore world of the whale.

The first time I saw a harbour porpoise—the first cetacean I had seen, before I even knew what a cetacean was—my mind fell quiet, thoughts held aside in a soft meditation. The world did not stop. There were still dishes to do, laundry to fold, places I had to be. But in that moment I could not leave, and I sat, transfixed, watching these creatures move through the world. The sperm whale in the freezing night, at the side of the boat, affirming my place on the sea. At a base level, a level that is somehow both more simple and more complex, I know that time spent in their presence, breathing the same air for a fraction of time, is a privilege. It inspires both awe and wonder, respect and reverence. That moment of connection, when we both share the same space—two creatures so vastly different from each other in many ways, less so in others—until the whale dives, with that lilting fluke raised towards the sky. Sometimes, something is just beautiful. You don’t know why, it just is, and the world is better for the fact that it exists.

Dr. Sylvia Earle, “Her Deepness” herself, recently delivered a talk for the Natural History Museum in London. The part that resonated most with me was her profound belief in hope. She has seen more of the seas than most of us ever will, from expeditions at the surface to voyages into the deep ocean. Over her lifetime, she has seen a huge loss in ocean health. In the face of this change, she said, we are given choices. There is a choice to turn towards despair, and assume that things have already gone so far that we as a species are doomed. The planet will go on without us. There will still be sea, however inhospitable we have made it. If we decide that this problem is too big for us, we choose despair. We can choose hope. But this must be an active hope. The worst choice is to hope for change, but to leave it to others, rather than participating in whatever way you can. That choice, that thin edge between hope and despair, is there, every single day.

[Jennifer Levy]

This just was not for me. I felt like it was trying too hard to be beautiful in a way that was distracting?
I wouldn’t judge people who loved it though, I can see the draw 😂

[Julia]

Her life may be interesting, but her writing is not