Three siblings – Anna, Gemma and Matthew – will have to work that out quickly. Monday is the day of their gentle, but distant, father's funeral, and for the first time in a long while they are under one roof with their mother, imperious Yvonne, awaiting the arrival of their aunt Amy, an award-winning poet.
Yet, as the funeral looms, their everyday concerns refuse to will newly sex-obsessed Gemma work out what she wants from life, beyond her mother's expectations? Can Anna maintain the fine balance between desire and nonchalance with the sort-of, not-quite-exclusive boyfriend, back in London? Will Amy's past explode the relationships of the present? And, crucially, will Yvonne pull off her grand, post-funeral family dinner, the solution to what she fears may be an unsolvable problem?
Told from five different perspectives, into the wreck worries at the knotty complexities of one family's bonds, written with Susannah Dickey's trademark empathy and wit.
into the wreck is susannah dickey’s take on the family novel, told with her trademark intelligence and wit. every character was so fully realised with all their human foibles and contradictions - just like with your own family, you wanted to scream at them and hug them at the same time.
thank you bloomsbury for the arc! into the wreck is out on 9 april.
Susannah Dickey's into the wreck is a gorgeously written examination of a family haunted by decisions made based on what we're "meant" to do.
Three siblings, Anna, Gemma and Matthew, reunite under one roof as their father's funeral approaches. Alongside their domineering mother Yvonne and award-winning, cheery poet aunt Amy, old tensions and personal struggles rise to the surface. Told from five perspectives, Into The Wreck is a brilliant examination of family dynamics.
It tells us that we don't always show all of ourselves to our families. We have perceptions of our loved ones based on our relationship to them, and it's not always the version the rest of the world experiences.
We all have secrets, we have our idiosyncrasies.
This is one of my favourite kind of books; it's character driven, it is an examination of the human condition. It looks at how attitudes and behaviours are passed down or twisted through the generations. It shows that you might think your mad cousin is flighty and a bit much, when she actually might be the most solid person in the room. The one who actually knows what she wants from life. The one who knows herself. It shows you that you might think your teenage nephew might have little to offer but grunts and monosyllabic answers, but he might actually have a existential and philosophical grasp on things that you could even imagine.
The books also tells us that we don't need to know everything to get on with things. We don't have to know all the why's and what fors. Sometimes you just have to live.
Okay look I loved both Tennis Lessons and Common Decency by Susannah Dickey. I was really looking forward to this! But it just didn't work for me unfortunately.
It focuses on three siblings, their mum and their aunt in the lead up to their father's funeral. He was a bit distant and unknowable to all of them and kind of remains that way. Much like the shipwreck that has turned up on the beach opposite their house.
I don't know I found everyone in this book except for Amy, the aunt, to be boring. There wasn't enough of a distinction between each character, they all felt the same. Which maybe owes a lot to the grand vocabulary used throughout. Kind of read like an assignment for an MFA program. I'm really sad about this one!
This had all of the intelligence, emotional precision and incredible character-building that I love love love in Irish lit fic. It’s essentially four character studies, with very little in the way of plot, and I loved getting such an internal deep dive into each of the character’s minds - however I think the structure would have hooked me more if it had alternated perspectives, rather than spending such prolonged periods of time in the knotty interior landscape of each character. It makes for quite a dense read, and the author (who is undeniably a phenomenal writer) also insists on using quite dense, pretentious language - I found myself googling vocab every couple of pages, which felt a bit unnecessary. Overall, though, another really solid piece of Irish literature to add to my ever-growing shelf.
I thought this was beautifully written, but it wasn't the best for me personally. I did love seeing the world and events at hand through everyone's perspective, and with how different they all were, it made it more interesting and distinct in their voices and thoughts.
You never truly know what's going on inside someone else's head, even someone in your own family. We could be worrying about our body changing, our relationships changing, our standing in the world and the universe and what it all means, our past regrets and not feeling that we're able to regret, or even just the state of the world and how small our problems seem in the grand scheme of things.
Grief is a weird thing. Grief is unforgiving of our circumstances and can tear us apart. And grief can bring people together.
I feel like I should have liked this more than I actually do. The novel is character focused, with little propelling it forwards in the way of plot beyond a slowly approaching funeral. The characters are distinct, but for the amount of time dedicated to each, it didn't feel like I got enough, particularly from the final POV. It was an engaging read, keeping me gripped enough to read it in 2 sittings, but I came away from it feeling strangely empty, like I was missing something I can't quite put my finger on.
It truly makes me sad to only give this 3 stars. This book ticked all my boxes... family drama, multiple POV and witty. I just could not care for any of the characters and despite liking the writing style, it was just a slog to get through.
Exploring the complexities of family relationships
Susannah Dickey’s Into the Wreck is an unsettling, intricately structured novel that intertwines motherhood, memory and the shadows of grief. The prose can sometimes come across as pretentious and far too experimental but, at its core lies something far more intimate and emotionally resonant: the fraught, complicated relationship between a mother and her children.
Set between a remote suburb of Belfast and London, the novel unfolds across layered timelines and takes the story and feelings of each of Yvonne’s children in turn. Starting with Gemma, who is undergoing her own teenage sexual revolution and all the uncertainties that brings, her story weaves together fragments of testimony, recollection and reinterpretation.
We then move on to Anna, who rebelled against her mother’s authoritarianism at an early age and finally flew the nest to make her own way in life. But the suicide of her father has brought her back to the family home and she must confront all her demons and her fraught relationship with her mother and siblings.
Yvonne, who is a renowned oncologist in her own right, is struggling with her own demons – a mother who didn’t feel her worthy. She is not easily categorised. She is not overtly monstrous, nor is she a figure of simple sympathy. Instead, she is rendered with a subtlety that captures the contradictions of motherhood—her care sits uncomfortably alongside emotional distance; her authority shades into control; her silence becomes a form of power. She has brought all that emotional distance into her relationship with her own children and, in a further twist, is yet to discover further secrets about her husband and her “sister”, Amy.
At the centre of the novel is a fractured family dynamic between a mother and her children, shaped by a tragedy that is gradually revealed rather than explicitly explained. Dickey resists straightforward storytelling, instead presenting multiple versions of events, allowing readers to feel the disorientation and instability that exists within the family itself. This ambiguity mirrors the children’s attempts to make sense of their mother: a figure who is at once present and unknowable, defined as much by what she withholds as by what she reveals.
Dickey offers no resolution or catharsis. The relationship between mother and daughters, in particular, remains, to the end, unresolved – mainly because some family dynamics cannot be neatly untangled. The significance of the shipwreck that seems to hold the story together is a bit nebulous but could be seen to be a metaphor for the disjointed family relationships.
The “wreck” is not only the past event that haunts the family but the emotional architecture built around it—the fragments of truth, silence and reinterpretation that the daughters must navigate. In this sense, the book charts a psychological journey rather than a physical one, asking what it means to revisit painful histories and whether understanding is ever truly possible.
Readers will be drawn to the formal literary style, complex portrayals of motherhood, and stories that explore the enduring impact of family relationships across generations.
Overall, this book was a great to read but not a great read (for me), if that makes any sense! I love Susannah Dickey’s writing style and how character-driven this book was, but I don’t think it will particularly stay with me.
I think this book was very well written, however, if you dislike completely character-focused narratives with flowery writing I would not recommend this. Thankfully, that is my favourite sort of book. Each perspective chapter dives into the psyche of one of the characters, with the present narrative flashing up in between large sections what the character ruminates on their past. Although the movement from past to present is never clearly marked in the formatting of the book, the writing style and just the content of each paragraph makes each transition very smooth. You can easily pick up where you are within the first sentence. Each of them are very much flawed and complex, and it was great to compare how they each perceived the same situations/people differently. They are all extremely introspective characters, which can feel somewhat exhausting (though still very interesting) to read through. Sometimes I did find myself getting lost in a couple of the inner-monologues, especially because some of them eventually felt quite repetitive.
As with this author’s previous work that I have read, ‘tennis lessons’, I just didn’t feel like the novel fully stuck the landing and sort of fizzled out. I suppose I wish the ending was a bit more than what it was. In some ways, I liked that there were many secrets between the characters that are not revealed by the end as I think it would have been somewhat trite to force everything to come out at once. That being said, I was expecting for at least some of these things to be discussed between the characters. For a book titled ‘into the wreck’, I thought we would actually get a bit more into it if I’m honest! (Mild spoilers ahead, not about the plot / what the ending is but about how the ending is told.) I guess I just wanted more from the book and felt it was so close to getting there.
Also, though I appreciate what the shipwreck represented, I found it unnecessary and actually a distraction from the characters and what little plot there was. I wish the scenes with the boat were just cut out entirely or moved to take place somewhere else as I felt it only took away from what the book was doing well. I think the character’s just reflecting on themselves and their actions was strong enough, with the funeral alone being enough to drive the external plot along.
This was so close to being a great read for me, and I am sure it will succeed in being so for many other readers.
My thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for the eARC!
Siblings Anna, Gemma and Matthew are reuniting for their father's funeral, and for the first time in a long while they will under the same roof as their mother, Yvonne, awaiting the arrival of their aunt Amy, an award-winning poet.
Such an exceptional exploration of grief, family dynamics and the weight of expectations. Such fun, light stuff, I know, but so well done, it was such a pleasure to read. I absolutely loved the writing style, and the story itself; I am a sucker for a character driven story, and this was such an incredible one. I do feel a little conflicted, because it had everything I would want from this kind of story, yet it somehow fell flat? But I don't mean that in a negative way at all, because I still absolutely adored it. I think it's one of those books I will eventually go back to, and end up loving even more, or maybe not, but only time will tell. I think my main issue with it is that the characters felt a little repetitive, in a way? But I really loved the overall themes of the story. Sometimes the people we are supposed to be closer to, are such strangers to us we barely know anything about them at all; sometimes we make them up in our heads, just for them to be totally different people after all. Sometimes we think we need to know everything to get on with our lives, not realizing we just need to live. Conflicting thoughts on this one, but still, clearly, loved it.
Many thanks to Bloomsbury Publishing Plc (UK & ANZ) & NetGalley for the eARC. All opinions are my own.
This is grief but no one can really focus because they’re too busy being hot, weird, and mildly unbearable.
Naturally, I loved this.
Dad is dead. Funeral pending. Emotional reckoning loading….
We get sexual awakenings, situationships, outfit-level anxieties, and a mother who is one dinner party away from a full control spiral. No one is grieving “correctly”. No one seems to be even trying.
Gemma is horny. Anna is doing cool-girl detachment like it’s a full-time job. Matthew is… present. Yvonne is curating grief like it’s an event. And Aunt Amy? She’s the wildcard with a backstory.
This is chaos but the low-stakes, high-internal kind. Everyone is spiralling quietly in their own lane.
And this is what Dickey does so well, people mid-thought, mid-delusion, mid- “I’m fine” while clearly not fine at all. This is sharp, awkward, grief as background noise while life refuses to pause. This is not sentimental AT ALL. If you want catharsis, closure, or a clean emotional arc, oh boy, you are in the wrong house.
This is family dynamics, but no one communicates, desire interrupting everything literally. It’s funny in a “oh, but that’s a bit too real” way. You will recognise something here that you wish you hadn’t. I loved this; everyone is a bit of a problem, and no one is fixing it. Excellent.
’The greatest deception participated in by the human race, Yvonne has realised, is the myth that you will one day change into someone old enough or wise enough to handle things. Your conscious mind never undergoes some alchemical transformation from childhood to adulthood, from innocence to competence. You are always just you, and it never feels any different - the immediacy of inhabiting a mind at thirty is the same as that of fourteen, as that of fifty. The light of the sun and the light of your mind, cast out through your hungry eyes, cross paths to form perception, but the only thing that ever changes is the history that perception leaves in its wake: the things you have seen prior to whatever you are seeing right now. Sure, you can try with each passing year to draw upon that history, to try and use it to make what feels like an informed decision, but you will never feel more prepared for what's to come than you do now, than you did then.’
I can’t tell whether this became less good, or I just became less interested in it.
Susannah Dickey’s Into the Wreck is an insightful contemporary novel about grief, family expectations, and the complicated relationships that emerge when relatives reunite. Following their father's funeral, siblings Anna, Gemma, and Matthew find themselves under one roof with their mother, Yvonne, while awaiting the arrival of their aunt Amy, an award-winning poet. As the family prepares for a post-funeral dinner, unresolved tensions and personal concerns begin to surface, revealing how little they may truly know about one another.
Told through five different perspectives, the novel explores the individual struggles of its characters alongside the wider complexities of family life. Gemma questions the future she wants for herself, Anna navigates an uncertain romantic relationship, and Amy's past threatens to affect the present. Dickey brings empathy and wit to these interconnected experiences, creating a thoughtful portrait of grief, desire, identity, and the bonds that can both connect and complicate a family.
Another first encounter with an Irish writer, another absorbing read. Susannah Dickey’s into the wreck, (no capitals employed) is an exploration of a family processing its grief in the days preceding the funeral of its patriarch, who separated years ago from his wife and children. Each of the book’s sections provides the perspective on past and present of a different family member. Gemma is a bright A-level student but finds herself distracted by thoughts of social status and agonisingly, whether she is sexually attractive. Mid-twenties Anna is returning from London to the Donegal home she left at 16 following a major rift with her mother, Yvonne. Anna finds relationships tricky. Precarious with her boyfriend, constantly strained with her mother, a rose-tinted memory of an ever more absent father during her adolescence. Yvonne is a doctor used to dealing with death. When abandoned by her husband, her maternal instincts dictated she shield the children from the truth of her relationship with their father and his background. Conditioned by her own harsh upbringing, she bears the brunt of her offsprings’ consequent resentment and incomprehension. Yvonne’s sister, Amy, is a bisexual poet of some renown, but she brings her own dark secrets to the unsolicited role of mediator and mood lightener in this fraught domestic milieu. And introspective Matthew, 15, struggling to make sense of things at home and school, who lacks an empathetic confidante to whom he can voice his feelings. On the nearby beach is a recently washed up shipwreck with a dark maw and rotting insides. It proves to be a lodestone to all the protagonists and a symbolistic mirror to their emotional black holes and shredded sensibilities. In a narrative that examines loss, anguish and the role language plays in articulating or masking our feelings, Dickey’s writing is crisp and expressive with a bountifully enriching vocabulary. Do not expect loose ends neatly tied up, but as a reflection on the many facets of grief and the complexities of the emotional reactions and family dynamics it triggers, this is a keenly observed and perceptive novel. Thanks to Bloomsbury Publishing for my gifted copy.
Character-focused narratives are my bread and butter so I still really enjoyed this even though all of the choices were a bit much for me. I haven’t had to look up words from modern books in years and years so that was a novelty! But it was all a bit too extreme for me I just felt really stressed and grateful that I wasn’t part of the family. Each character’s issues were kind of the same and the way they dealt with them also pretty similar and I think when you do a character study type book you need more variety. The dad remains a mythical figure throughout despite the tiny bits of info given and I get why we didn’t see the letter but some other kind of window into his personality would’ve been good. I liked the Anna character a lot and I thought the exploration of father issues on relationships was well done and not too cliched so big fan of that!
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
3.5 ⭐️ very witty writing and i thought the author shaped the different perspectives well. There were some very deep, honest observations about family dynamics and motherhood. Interesting premise with the ship wreck at the center of it but ultimately it felt a bit glossed over and im not really sure what to take from finishing this. I never really got why Yvonne was so worried about the shipwreck. The book glosses over the dad’s experience with the Troubles but we dont learn anything substantial. And I was hoping for more closure at the end (what happened to the note?!) I was into this for the first half but then I found amy and Matthew’s perspectives more boring. Also felt like I was prepping for the SATs with the amount of vocab words the author uses which I’ve never heard of before in my life
Into the Wreck explores family dynamics from multiple points of view with the added complication of recent loss.
I loved the structure of the novel; allowing each character to narrate their version without interruption before moving on to the next narrative. It allowed me to build a solid picture of the family piece by piece whilst also getting a full, in-depth understanding of each individual character's motivations, strengths and flaws.
Dickey's writing style is engaging and flows well. She has managed to recreate very well the feeling of disjointedness that grief often opens up between family members as they struggle to connect despite truly caring for each other.
Thanks to NetGalley and Bloomsbury Publishing for the ARC. All opinions are my own.
Like a window into all the thoughts of each of the siblings, and other characters, as they come to terms with a death. Each of these characters felt real, all their thoughts, and way they lived their lives. I could almost see them. It's one of those books I'll tell people they really should read, without being able to say why. If you pick it up, you won't regret it.
I gave up after 2 chapters. Difficult to empathise with the characters but most off-putting is the tortuous use of odd, unusual words and convoluted sentences as if the author is trying to impress. Has she been trying to emulate Colm Toibín? It works for him, not for her. The swim sequence at the beach is poorly constructed and doesn’t make logical sense. For example, how are they unaware the tide is far out until they start walking towards it despite gathering on the beach? Not for me.
Muy cotorro pero me gustaría saber más del H. paraíso fiscal de Irlanda, también más del papá, más de la tía y de la mamá. Mis personas favoritas obvio fueron ellas y la hija mayor pero también me latió la reflexión del hijo menor y cómo cuestiona su machismo, estuvo lind0. Me cagó que no pusieran la carta de suicidio.
really enjoyed how you built perspective and empathy for each character through the different inner monologues. they're all flawed and their flaws intertwine beautifully in a horrible way - you just want to hug, forgive and scream at them all at the same time
Some really excellent moments, there’s a lot of generosity in how she tells the story of selfish and unpleasant people. The revealing of dynamics thru a changing character pov was really well written and developed.
“She pressed her arms into her mother's torso and sobbed helplessly into her shoulder, because there hadn't been a moment in Anna's seventeen years of life that had not orbited around this body, this person, this mind”
Really enjoyed this, loved the concept, the construct and the writing, my goodness the writing is so good, the reflections on life, family, relationships ring true. I took many, many notes. A deceptively simple idea executed wonderfully well.
I really love Dickey’s style of writing. It immerses me in the world without spoonfeeding or being overly poetic (ironically). I fear the symbolism was a little lost on me but I have to say I’ve never been dissapointed by a book of hers. LOVE.