What do you think?
Rate this book
Dark Water
Aboard the USS Orbis as it embarks from Boston and surges south to round Cape Horn, Hiram Carver takes up his first position as ship's doctor. Callow and anxious among the seasoned sailors, he struggles in this brutal floating world until he meets William Borden.
Borden. The Hero of the Providence. A legend among sailors, his presence hypnotizes Carver, even before he hears the man's story. Years before, Borden saved several men from mutiny and led them in a dinghy across the Pacific to safety.
Every ship faces terror from the deep. What happens on the Orbis binds Carver and Borden together forever. When Carver recovers, and takes up a role at Boston's Asylum for the Insane, he will meet Borden again - broken, starving, overwhelmed by the madness that has shadowed him ever since he sailed on the Providence.
Carver devotes himself to Borden's cure, sure it depends on drawing out the truth about that terrible voyage. But though he raises up monsters, they will not rest. So Carver must return once more to the edge of the sea and confront the man - and the myth - that lie in dark water.
Elizabeth Lowry's gothic masterpiece gives the genre of Heart of Darkness and Moby-Dick a new, beating heart. In Carver and Borden, she realizes the dichotomy of savagery and reason, of man and monster, of life and sacrifice, in a tale rich with adventure and glorious imagination
Borden. The Hero of the Providence. A legend among sailors, his presence hypnotizes Carver, even before he hears the man's story. Years before, Borden saved several men from mutiny and led them in a dinghy across the Pacific to safety.
Every ship faces terror from the deep. What happens on the Orbis binds Carver and Borden together forever. When Carver recovers, and takes up a role at Boston's Asylum for the Insane, he will meet Borden again - broken, starving, overwhelmed by the madness that has shadowed him ever since he sailed on the Providence.
Carver devotes himself to Borden's cure, sure it depends on drawing out the truth about that terrible voyage. But though he raises up monsters, they will not rest. So Carver must return once more to the edge of the sea and confront the man - and the myth - that lie in dark water.
Elizabeth Lowry's gothic masterpiece gives the genre of Heart of Darkness and Moby-Dick a new, beating heart. In Carver and Borden, she realizes the dichotomy of savagery and reason, of man and monster, of life and sacrifice, in a tale rich with adventure and glorious imagination
496 pages, Hardcover
First published August 9, 2018
11 people are currently reading
510 people want to read
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 50 reviews
May 2, 2023
This novel begins with a captivating image. It's 1855 and a ship has anchored in Gardener's Bay. The ship's surgeon, the novel's narrator, catches sight of the third lieutenant sitting on an outcrop of rocks. His arms are raised horizontally and are covered from shoulder to wrist in hummingbirds. Naturally this man now fascinates him and back on the boat he befriends him. We learn there was a mutiny on the last book he sailed on and he became a hero by rescuing the captain. Most of the novel is set in the asylum where the narrator works and which he eventually runs. Before long the man of the hummingbirds arrives as a patient. The doctor is set the task of prising out his secrets. The asylum as a setting isn't as engaging as the boat was and the writing can veer towards the melodramatic at times but essentially a very enjoyable mischievous Gothic novel.
September 24, 2020
When I’m reading a book, I generally have quite a clear idea of what I like and don’t like about it. However, I must admit Elizabeth Lowry’s Dark Water flummoxed me. It was a novel I lapped up, a real literary page-turner. Yet, throughout, I had this nagging feeling that something wasn’t quite convincing me. Perhaps, by the end of this review, I’ll manage to sort my thoughts out.
The marketing blurbs describe Dark Water as a Gothic novel, whilst comparing it to “Moby Dick” or “Heart of Darkness”. That is, I think, a good place to start. I must say that I was also reminded of the “sea stories” of William Hope Hodgson. Admittedly, no phantom pirates haunt these pages but there are other terrors aplenty...ooh, yes, there are! And there’s the same sense of claustrophobia which, ironically, can clutch travellers on the open sea and which both Hodgson and Lowry portray so effectively. Lovers of opera will also catch more than a briny whiff of Britten’s marine masterpieces “Billy Budd” or “Peter Grimes”: the latter, especially, in the final part of the novel.
Dark Water, however, also references what I would call the “asylum Gothic”, made popular in Victorian ‘sensation fiction’ and reprised in contemporary novels (Alison Littlewood’s recent The Crow Garden comes to mind).
The link between these two Gothic environments lies in the main characters. In the first half of the 19th Century, as a newly-qualified physician, narrator Hiram Carver joins the crew of the USS Orbis for a journey from Boston south towards Cape Horn. Aboard ship he befriends William Borden. Though barely older than Hiram, Borden already has a reputation in the seafaring world as the “Hero of the Providence”. Years before, aboard the said ship, Borden negotiated with a group of mutineers for the life of the Captain and a group of sailors, and then led them to safety across the Pacific aboard a fragile dinghy. He’s a living legend, no less. Yet, something seems to trouble the man, and a violent episode on the Orbis threatens to bring his career to a premature end.
Back on the terra firma, Hiram puts his marine adventure behind him and takes up a position at Boston’s Asylum for the Insane. And so, he tells us,
I began to exist on intimate terms with all that is pitiful, misshapen, and unresolved in the human heart
At the asylum, he meets Borden again, this time as a patient. For the sake of their previous friendship, Carver is determined to cure Borden, using a new technique which he has developed, at odds with traditional, less humane, approaches. Carver, in fact, believes that psychological illnesses can be addressed by confronting head-on submerged memories - unwelcome recollections which we tend to bury in our mental “dark water” or, in other words, the “subconscious”. But memory and truth are uncomfortable bedfellows and perhaps, raking up the past is not always a great idea.
Lowry exploits the Gothic possibilities of the plot and, for good measure, provides the reader with some impressive set-pieces which further emphasize the novel’s association with the genre. There is a particularly striking episode in which Carver visits a maimed cousin who lives in a dark mansion,
...so exactly like a house of nightmare: a crooked mausoleum hidden away in a waste land of struggling trees, marooned on scant acres of blasted grass.
The meeting takes place in a room with drawn curtains, where the host quaffs absinthe in a bid for oblivion. There are other memorable scenes set against the wintry backdrop of the bleak Nantucket coastline.
In other words, this is all so very much up my alley. So why my reservations? I guess part of my problem lies with the character of the narrator. He first struck me as an interesting and complex figure, especially in his relationships with the rest of the crew and –on land – with his overbearing father and doting sister. However, as the novel proceeds, so many contradictions surface that, for me at least, he did not remain particularly convincing. He is often weak but, when required, breathtakingly ruthless. He can be patient with his patients, yet brusque and callous with the people closest to him. He is sometimes indolent, sometimes overbearingly ambitious. He can be perceptive and sharp, yet incredibly naive. He’s conflicted about his sexuality. As a psychological study, he’s just too good to be true.
And then there’s Borden. He’s described as a sort of demigod, a supernatural figure. Now I do appreciate that we’re perceiving borden from Carver’s perspective, but the “elevated” language in which he’s consistently presented becomes rather over the top.
This brings me precisely to the distinctive aspect of Dark Water which, I suspect, will also be its most divisive one. Throughout the book, there are several extended metaphors which invite a symbolic or mythical interpretation of the novel. There are, of course, the pervasive ‘marine’ metaphors, not least the evocative image of the “dark water” of our minds. But there are also recurring references to “food”, “hunger”, “thinness” and “leanness”. Hiram’s superior at the asylum nicknames him Cassius because, like the eponymous character in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, he has a “lean and hungry look”. Hunger, or the lack of it, is often indicative of a character’s state of mind.
From there it’s but a brief step to imagery of a religious, theological, dare I say ‘sacramental’ nature. Suffice it to mention, without revealing too much, that certain key episodes in the plot are imbued with ritualistic significance, although it’s not clear whether Lowry’s intention is merely to harness the power of religious associations or to present us with a grotesque parody of holy ceremonies. For me, “Dark Water” worked brilliantly enough as a dark historical novel with psychological undercurrents. This ‘mythical’ element was hardly necessary. But I’m just as sure that others will find that it is precisely this added layer of meaning which gives this novel the edge over other neo-Victorian novels. Anyone with even a passing interest in the Gothic should read this.
***
I have also posted this review at https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/20... where it's accompanied by some sea-inspired music.
The marketing blurbs describe Dark Water as a Gothic novel, whilst comparing it to “Moby Dick” or “Heart of Darkness”. That is, I think, a good place to start. I must say that I was also reminded of the “sea stories” of William Hope Hodgson. Admittedly, no phantom pirates haunt these pages but there are other terrors aplenty...ooh, yes, there are! And there’s the same sense of claustrophobia which, ironically, can clutch travellers on the open sea and which both Hodgson and Lowry portray so effectively. Lovers of opera will also catch more than a briny whiff of Britten’s marine masterpieces “Billy Budd” or “Peter Grimes”: the latter, especially, in the final part of the novel.
Dark Water, however, also references what I would call the “asylum Gothic”, made popular in Victorian ‘sensation fiction’ and reprised in contemporary novels (Alison Littlewood’s recent The Crow Garden comes to mind).
The link between these two Gothic environments lies in the main characters. In the first half of the 19th Century, as a newly-qualified physician, narrator Hiram Carver joins the crew of the USS Orbis for a journey from Boston south towards Cape Horn. Aboard ship he befriends William Borden. Though barely older than Hiram, Borden already has a reputation in the seafaring world as the “Hero of the Providence”. Years before, aboard the said ship, Borden negotiated with a group of mutineers for the life of the Captain and a group of sailors, and then led them to safety across the Pacific aboard a fragile dinghy. He’s a living legend, no less. Yet, something seems to trouble the man, and a violent episode on the Orbis threatens to bring his career to a premature end.
Back on the terra firma, Hiram puts his marine adventure behind him and takes up a position at Boston’s Asylum for the Insane. And so, he tells us,
I began to exist on intimate terms with all that is pitiful, misshapen, and unresolved in the human heart
At the asylum, he meets Borden again, this time as a patient. For the sake of their previous friendship, Carver is determined to cure Borden, using a new technique which he has developed, at odds with traditional, less humane, approaches. Carver, in fact, believes that psychological illnesses can be addressed by confronting head-on submerged memories - unwelcome recollections which we tend to bury in our mental “dark water” or, in other words, the “subconscious”. But memory and truth are uncomfortable bedfellows and perhaps, raking up the past is not always a great idea.
Lowry exploits the Gothic possibilities of the plot and, for good measure, provides the reader with some impressive set-pieces which further emphasize the novel’s association with the genre. There is a particularly striking episode in which Carver visits a maimed cousin who lives in a dark mansion,
...so exactly like a house of nightmare: a crooked mausoleum hidden away in a waste land of struggling trees, marooned on scant acres of blasted grass.
The meeting takes place in a room with drawn curtains, where the host quaffs absinthe in a bid for oblivion. There are other memorable scenes set against the wintry backdrop of the bleak Nantucket coastline.
In other words, this is all so very much up my alley. So why my reservations? I guess part of my problem lies with the character of the narrator. He first struck me as an interesting and complex figure, especially in his relationships with the rest of the crew and –on land – with his overbearing father and doting sister. However, as the novel proceeds, so many contradictions surface that, for me at least, he did not remain particularly convincing. He is often weak but, when required, breathtakingly ruthless. He can be patient with his patients, yet brusque and callous with the people closest to him. He is sometimes indolent, sometimes overbearingly ambitious. He can be perceptive and sharp, yet incredibly naive. He’s conflicted about his sexuality. As a psychological study, he’s just too good to be true.
And then there’s Borden. He’s described as a sort of demigod, a supernatural figure. Now I do appreciate that we’re perceiving borden from Carver’s perspective, but the “elevated” language in which he’s consistently presented becomes rather over the top.
This brings me precisely to the distinctive aspect of Dark Water which, I suspect, will also be its most divisive one. Throughout the book, there are several extended metaphors which invite a symbolic or mythical interpretation of the novel. There are, of course, the pervasive ‘marine’ metaphors, not least the evocative image of the “dark water” of our minds. But there are also recurring references to “food”, “hunger”, “thinness” and “leanness”. Hiram’s superior at the asylum nicknames him Cassius because, like the eponymous character in Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar, he has a “lean and hungry look”. Hunger, or the lack of it, is often indicative of a character’s state of mind.
From there it’s but a brief step to imagery of a religious, theological, dare I say ‘sacramental’ nature. Suffice it to mention, without revealing too much, that certain key episodes in the plot are imbued with ritualistic significance, although it’s not clear whether Lowry’s intention is merely to harness the power of religious associations or to present us with a grotesque parody of holy ceremonies. For me, “Dark Water” worked brilliantly enough as a dark historical novel with psychological undercurrents. This ‘mythical’ element was hardly necessary. But I’m just as sure that others will find that it is precisely this added layer of meaning which gives this novel the edge over other neo-Victorian novels. Anyone with even a passing interest in the Gothic should read this.
***
I have also posted this review at https://endsoftheword.blogspot.com/20... where it's accompanied by some sea-inspired music.
March 17, 2020
I really enjoyed this one. A curious and fascinating novel, exploring some really interesting themes. I think it will stay me for a while.
November 4, 2025
How exactly did this one slip past me when it came out? Dark Water is so my kind of thing: a gorgeously written historical novel that starts as a sea-adventure story and ends up somewhere much murkier and more interior, walking the line between gothic confession and psychological horror. Elizabeth Lowry takes her time with it – at just shy of 500 pages, this is not a book in a hurry – but I loved sinking into its layers of mood and dread, the slow-yet-precise unmasking of the man at its centre.
The setup seems fairly straightforward on paper. As a newly qualified doctor, Hiram Carver spends a brief period as a sailor and develops a fascination with his shipmate William Borden, a supposed hero famed for a miraculous feat of survival. Years later, the two meet again under vastly different circumstances – Borden is now a patient at Carver’s asylum. The tables have turned: Borden is a broken, haunted man, and Carver is determined to cure him using his new theories about repressed memories – the ‘dark water’ of the subconscious.
What’s brilliant is the way Lowry slowly tightens the screws on our perception of Carver. At first, I didn’t so much buy into his authority as not even think about it; he’s intelligent and seemingly rational, with insecurities that make him feel real. Then the edges start to warp. Dark Water operates by accretion rather than revelation: the truth doesn’t crash over you in a single twist, it seeps through the cracks in Carver’s narration until you’re suddenly aware of what’s been there all along.
At times I felt almost overwhelmed by the density of the maritime and psychiatric minutiae, but Lowry has a good grip on her material. The historical context proves essential – not least as a contrast to all the emotion roiling beneath the surface of Carver’s account. The deeper you get, the more hypnotic it becomes. What begins as an elegantly constructed period piece slow-burns its way into a study of obsession, repression and delusion (I couldn’t help thinking of another favourite from this year’s reading, Patrick McGrath’s Asylum). Excellent, and instantly made me want to read more by Lowry.
The setup seems fairly straightforward on paper. As a newly qualified doctor, Hiram Carver spends a brief period as a sailor and develops a fascination with his shipmate William Borden, a supposed hero famed for a miraculous feat of survival. Years later, the two meet again under vastly different circumstances – Borden is now a patient at Carver’s asylum. The tables have turned: Borden is a broken, haunted man, and Carver is determined to cure him using his new theories about repressed memories – the ‘dark water’ of the subconscious.
What’s brilliant is the way Lowry slowly tightens the screws on our perception of Carver. At first, I didn’t so much buy into his authority as not even think about it; he’s intelligent and seemingly rational, with insecurities that make him feel real. Then the edges start to warp. Dark Water operates by accretion rather than revelation: the truth doesn’t crash over you in a single twist, it seeps through the cracks in Carver’s narration until you’re suddenly aware of what’s been there all along.
At times I felt almost overwhelmed by the density of the maritime and psychiatric minutiae, but Lowry has a good grip on her material. The historical context proves essential – not least as a contrast to all the emotion roiling beneath the surface of Carver’s account. The deeper you get, the more hypnotic it becomes. What begins as an elegantly constructed period piece slow-burns its way into a study of obsession, repression and delusion (I couldn’t help thinking of another favourite from this year’s reading, Patrick McGrath’s Asylum). Excellent, and instantly made me want to read more by Lowry.
September 10, 2018
'Dark Water' is a powerful, nineteenth century gothic novel that draws parallels between the deepest, darkest oceans and the depths of the human mind. We follow affluent and privileged Bostonian Dr Haram Carver, as he boards the USS Orbis where he is to become assistant surgeon. On his voyage he encounters William Borden, a member of the ships crew. They then go on to meet years later when Borden is admitted to a mental asylum and is under the care of Carver who resolves to try to cure his acquaintances madness.
This is a wonderfully dark, atmospheric and claustrophobic read, and the sea voyage is certainly all of those things and more. The narrative and twisted tale it weaves are exquisitely done and created vivid imagery in my minds eye. Lowry's characterisation is also masterful - with each of the characters expertly crafted. All in all, an intelligent and visceral book that I thoroughly enjoyed. But, be warned, it gets very, very dark at times. There are many layers to the story, and I feel because of that it will appeal to many different readers. I know for certain I will remember it for a long time to come.
Many thanks to riverrun for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
This is a wonderfully dark, atmospheric and claustrophobic read, and the sea voyage is certainly all of those things and more. The narrative and twisted tale it weaves are exquisitely done and created vivid imagery in my minds eye. Lowry's characterisation is also masterful - with each of the characters expertly crafted. All in all, an intelligent and visceral book that I thoroughly enjoyed. But, be warned, it gets very, very dark at times. There are many layers to the story, and I feel because of that it will appeal to many different readers. I know for certain I will remember it for a long time to come.
Many thanks to riverrun for an ARC. I was not required to post a review, and all thoughts and opinions expressed are my own.
September 11, 2018
Such a beautifully written novel, with a haunting, elegiac feel to it. A tale of seafaring disaster, madness, impossible love and loneliness set against the backdrop of 19th-century Boston, Nantucket and the vast blue expanse of the ocean. Review to follow very shortly on For Winter Nights.
August 9, 2018
I'm amazed at our conspiracy of silence about it - that we are all hungry, naked, heading towards a death we can't avoid. We are all at sea, sailing over dark waters. Not one of us is safe.
It's unusual in commercial fiction to find an author who is as adept as Lowry proves herself to be at not just using but sustaining a systematic use of symbolism and figurative language. Here the sea and issues of hunger and need are used in a metaphysical way to think about life and death, survival and conscience. And if that makes this sound pretentious, it's not, because she successfully wraps all these issues up in a neo-Gothic narrative that alternates between an asylum and life on board a C19th ship.
Lowry's writing is excellent and she has the knack of capturing character with economy and wit: someone, for example, is described 'as if he'd swallowed an encyclopaedia of inanities'! There are gestures towards Moby-Dick when the Starbuck family are mentioned in passing, and when a character inherits a whale-oil business; with intimations of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner ('you've chosen this death in life', the albatross, issues of conscience and reparation) as well.
This didn't quite tip over into a 5-star book for me because in places it feels a bit too long and could have been tautened up. Also, as C21st readers we're less innocent than the C19th characters and so the central revelations were unsurprising to me, slightly anti-climactic.
Nevertheless, this is an accomplished piece of writing that's also a page-turner of a read: thanks to Quercus for an ARC via NetGalley.
April 26, 2024
I'm a bit all over the place with the one, you could possibly say pleasantly disturbed. In a nutshell, this is a gothic horror, a tale of sailing, forbidden desires, survival, fishing and cannibalism. It's about humanity stripped back to it's basest level. How low would you go to survive? How low would you go to protect the one you love?
For the most part, hugely entertaining, but If there is one problem with this book it's that the first part is so brutal, so barbaric, that the rest of the book kind of pales in comparison. Parts two and three do have their moments and often you are nudged towards ideas you would rather not think about, it just feels a bit like someone set the fireworks off in the wrong order.
For the most part, hugely entertaining, but If there is one problem with this book it's that the first part is so brutal, so barbaric, that the rest of the book kind of pales in comparison. Parts two and three do have their moments and often you are nudged towards ideas you would rather not think about, it just feels a bit like someone set the fireworks off in the wrong order.
November 10, 2018
In all fairness, I’m not quite sure yet how I feel about Dark Water. It’s a very dark and unique novel, that at times was difficult and uncomfortable to read. At the same time it’s well-crafted and did a great job at putting my brain to work with everything that is contained in it.
I think I need some time to properly “digest” (if you’ll excuse me using that word in the context) this story.
For now I’m rating it 4 stars, but this may change once I sit on my thoughts for a few weeks.
Extended review to come.
I think I need some time to properly “digest” (if you’ll excuse me using that word in the context) this story.
For now I’m rating it 4 stars, but this may change once I sit on my thoughts for a few weeks.
Extended review to come.
March 31, 2019
Another #walterscottprize book down. Dark water is a very clever, deeply atmospheric book and there is much I admire about it. It takes inspiration from Moby Dick, Shakespeare and Dickens and indeed I think, in particular if you loved Moby Dick, you would probably revel in it. Alas for me this falls into the category of: “Admire it, but don’t love it” alas I believe it should be on the shortlist.
May 3, 2020
I thoroughly enjoyed this. Historical fiction is what my brain is calling out for at the moment. I can't seem to focus on books set in modern times as they feel too false, real life isn't like that at the moment due to coronavirus. So reading about a time when it wasn't a threat makes it easier for me to escape in a book. I very much need that escape right now.
There is a lot that this book deals with. Mental illness of course. But much more than that too. The writing was gorgeous and intelligent. I'm glad I read this on kindle so I could keep looking up the words she uses in the dictionary! It was an interestingly woven story that winds around itself. Just when you think you've gotten to the end of the line, you find the coil continues. It's a dark tale that sometimes went in unexpected places, but it never felt like it was meandering. I'm glad I gave this a go.
There is a lot that this book deals with. Mental illness of course. But much more than that too. The writing was gorgeous and intelligent. I'm glad I read this on kindle so I could keep looking up the words she uses in the dictionary! It was an interestingly woven story that winds around itself. Just when you think you've gotten to the end of the line, you find the coil continues. It's a dark tale that sometimes went in unexpected places, but it never felt like it was meandering. I'm glad I gave this a go.
August 27, 2018
Extraordinarily layers to this book, both of plot and substance. A book which draws metaphorical parallels between 19th century sea-farers and early attempts to plumb the depths of human psychology. It's rich and dramatic. At times I found the writing overly rich, but that's a taste thing.
January 20, 2020
Hiram Carver is a doctor on board a US naval ship when he meets sailor William Borden. An event on board links the two men for the rest of their lives. This novel explores themes of insanity and the treatment thereof in the 19th century, society and heroism. I'd pretty much guessed what the 'dark' secret was as it's been a taboo in society for many centuries. This was beautifully written and moved at a pace almost like drifting along the water.
April 27, 2019
Very clever authentically gothic novel set mostly on the sea or in an insane asylum where there is a fine line between sane and insane. The story is quite melodramatic and dark but also funny. The main character, Dr. Hiram Carver, an unforgettable fellow, a walking contradiction badly in need of a little analysis himself, has a redeeming snarky humor that kept me entertained. Some of the events in the novel may be a little predictable but it is so well done it kept me turning the pages. Definitely worth a read.
' Oh, Hiram. You cold-blooded monster.'
' Oh, Hiram. You cold-blooded monster.'
September 26, 2018
I had really high hopes for this one. I was looking for something atmospheric and gloomy for the autumn nights that would at least partly recreate the feeling Moby Dick did when I read it. Unfortunately, it didn't live up to it. It did try hard to create the right mood and feeling of the era and I could say it succeeded. Bu the same thing was its weakness - at times it tried too hard and felt like those really badly done period dramas where you can literally see the effort. The dialogue was at times too modern and then very deliberately old fashioned. The other aspect that made it a 2 star read for me was the plot. It just didn't carry. It might have had it been a 200-page novel. I had read Nathaniel Philbricks "In the Heart of the Sea" (a retelling of the story that inspired Melville on writing MD)before so they great plot twist was not surprising at all and I guessed it right at the beginning. If you want to read a gloomy novel on the subject on 1800's sea voyages I would rather recommend Ian McGuire's "The North Water" which was such a gripping read.
September 12, 2018
Powerful in its imagery and terrifying in its acute observation of obsession, few novels probe the depths of memory, the mind and the unfathomable ocean itself as well as Elizabeth Lowry’s Dark Water.
Hiram Carver, once assistant surgeon on the ship the USS Orbis and now alienist at the Asylum for the Insane in Charlestown, Boston, finds himself recollecting his memories of that strange and distressing voyage. Foremost within his thoughts is William Borden, the watchful, inscrutable Third Lieutenant, famous for saving the captain of the USS Providence from violent mutiny, and for guiding their dinghy across the ocean to safety. But such heroic deeds have bitter consequences, as Carver will soon discover: from the Orbis to the asylum, and then to Nantucket’s windy, wild shores, the ties that bind him to Borden and to the events of that fateful voyage will come to define his own actions…
Unsettling from its opening pages, Lowry’s novel excels in its exploration of the human psyche, of the relations we establish with others, and in its very depiction of the “dark water” which forms our own consciences. The descriptions offered of first the ship and then the asylum are claustrophobic and ominous, the crashing ocean outside a shattering reminder of the fragile veneers of society and sanity. Nowhere is this pretence more exposed than on the Orbis, with its distorted imitation of social hierarchy offering glimpses of the chaos lying underneath.
It is this possibility, this potential for chaos which Lowry harnesses so well in the novel, and which gives the story its gothic aspect. The image of the sea evokes this vast, nameless fear: full is the suggestion that malevolent shapes lurk not only beneath the waves, but appear on dry land, too. It is in Carver’s attempts to understand Borden, and indeed to comprehend his own instinctual need for the man, that we slowly become aware of the base hungers that lie coiled within both characters. There is the torture of the unknown, whether it be at sea or in the bottomless reaches of the mind, and the greater torment of being so wholly attracted to it.
Though it is Hiram Carver who leads us through the novel’s intriguing plot, it is perhaps William Borden who most attracts the reader’s attention. Like Carver, we are caught between his strangeness and charm, and we remain enthralled to the enduring mystery of what really happened on that small dinghy cast adrift in the Pacific.
But it is the twisting, spiralling friendship between the two men which is the novel’s greatest appeal, as is their own definition of such a relationship; the light in which Carver views Borden throws into harsh relief the disconnect separating what a person is and the roles our own selfish desires can cast them in. Part of the story’s thrill lies in Carver’s attempt to restore human sensibility to a man he sees only as a god – replete with the power to master the ocean – while it is Lowry’s sinuous prose which lends pace to the quest.
Like the very best books, Dark Water forces us as readers to guess at what lies below the surface, whether it be a character’s true motives or the truth behind supposedly heroic deeds. Confronted as we are by characters ensnared within their own delusions, we too are held captive by this beautifully-written novel; though, as the poet Dylan Thomas would have it, we sing "in our chains like the sea."
(Thank you so much to Quercus Books and riverrun for offering me the chance to review this book; I received a free copy through NetGalley for an honest review).
Hiram Carver, once assistant surgeon on the ship the USS Orbis and now alienist at the Asylum for the Insane in Charlestown, Boston, finds himself recollecting his memories of that strange and distressing voyage. Foremost within his thoughts is William Borden, the watchful, inscrutable Third Lieutenant, famous for saving the captain of the USS Providence from violent mutiny, and for guiding their dinghy across the ocean to safety. But such heroic deeds have bitter consequences, as Carver will soon discover: from the Orbis to the asylum, and then to Nantucket’s windy, wild shores, the ties that bind him to Borden and to the events of that fateful voyage will come to define his own actions…
Unsettling from its opening pages, Lowry’s novel excels in its exploration of the human psyche, of the relations we establish with others, and in its very depiction of the “dark water” which forms our own consciences. The descriptions offered of first the ship and then the asylum are claustrophobic and ominous, the crashing ocean outside a shattering reminder of the fragile veneers of society and sanity. Nowhere is this pretence more exposed than on the Orbis, with its distorted imitation of social hierarchy offering glimpses of the chaos lying underneath.
It is this possibility, this potential for chaos which Lowry harnesses so well in the novel, and which gives the story its gothic aspect. The image of the sea evokes this vast, nameless fear: full is the suggestion that malevolent shapes lurk not only beneath the waves, but appear on dry land, too. It is in Carver’s attempts to understand Borden, and indeed to comprehend his own instinctual need for the man, that we slowly become aware of the base hungers that lie coiled within both characters. There is the torture of the unknown, whether it be at sea or in the bottomless reaches of the mind, and the greater torment of being so wholly attracted to it.
Though it is Hiram Carver who leads us through the novel’s intriguing plot, it is perhaps William Borden who most attracts the reader’s attention. Like Carver, we are caught between his strangeness and charm, and we remain enthralled to the enduring mystery of what really happened on that small dinghy cast adrift in the Pacific.
But it is the twisting, spiralling friendship between the two men which is the novel’s greatest appeal, as is their own definition of such a relationship; the light in which Carver views Borden throws into harsh relief the disconnect separating what a person is and the roles our own selfish desires can cast them in. Part of the story’s thrill lies in Carver’s attempt to restore human sensibility to a man he sees only as a god – replete with the power to master the ocean – while it is Lowry’s sinuous prose which lends pace to the quest.
Like the very best books, Dark Water forces us as readers to guess at what lies below the surface, whether it be a character’s true motives or the truth behind supposedly heroic deeds. Confronted as we are by characters ensnared within their own delusions, we too are held captive by this beautifully-written novel; though, as the poet Dylan Thomas would have it, we sing "in our chains like the sea."
(Thank you so much to Quercus Books and riverrun for offering me the chance to review this book; I received a free copy through NetGalley for an honest review).
October 11, 2019
.
“In every life, I now believe, there is one event that is the well-spring of the fundamental agony and decision in us. It lies beneath the sunlit layers of the present moment, throwing its shade across the foundations of our being, forming the self to come. If grasped and brought to the surface, it can save us or destroy us.”
.
Boston, 1833
.
After an eventful and nightmarish stint as ship’s doctor on the USS Orbis, Carver’s path crosses again with that of the legendary sailor William Borden. This time though they are psychiatrist and patient in an asylum.
.
This is a melancholic, fascinating gothic story which explores truth, knowing, not knowing and not wanting to know. The narrator is unreliable, and many people and things are not what they seem. It’s a claustrophobic novel that really delves into the murky hidden depths of the mind and heart, the “dark water”. It challenges readers to consider what “insanity” is, its spectrum and whether the “insane” characters are closer to knowledge than their doctors. Ultimately this is a clever, compelling and cautionary novel about obsessive ambition, and the nature of heroism and sacrifice. The research behind the book has obviously been meticulous; I’ve learned quite a bit about maratime matters and the portrayal of the asylum was very insightful. I enjoyed this immensely and would happily recommend it to anyone who enjoys gothic fiction. .
“In every life, I now believe, there is one event that is the well-spring of the fundamental agony and decision in us. It lies beneath the sunlit layers of the present moment, throwing its shade across the foundations of our being, forming the self to come. If grasped and brought to the surface, it can save us or destroy us.”
.
Boston, 1833
.
After an eventful and nightmarish stint as ship’s doctor on the USS Orbis, Carver’s path crosses again with that of the legendary sailor William Borden. This time though they are psychiatrist and patient in an asylum.
.
This is a melancholic, fascinating gothic story which explores truth, knowing, not knowing and not wanting to know. The narrator is unreliable, and many people and things are not what they seem. It’s a claustrophobic novel that really delves into the murky hidden depths of the mind and heart, the “dark water”. It challenges readers to consider what “insanity” is, its spectrum and whether the “insane” characters are closer to knowledge than their doctors. Ultimately this is a clever, compelling and cautionary novel about obsessive ambition, and the nature of heroism and sacrifice. The research behind the book has obviously been meticulous; I’ve learned quite a bit about maratime matters and the portrayal of the asylum was very insightful. I enjoyed this immensely and would happily recommend it to anyone who enjoys gothic fiction. .
November 4, 2023
This one. Isn't this the kind of book I hate the most to review? At one point, I was bewildered and disoriented, silently rehearsing a three-star review that would bash this book while exuding practiced objectivity; at another, I leaned over the book, refused to sleep, and when I finally did, I lay in my bed grappling with what I had just read, silently sketching out a thousand-word essay, divided into at least four sections not counting the intro and conclusion, on its metaphors and symbols and images ... on all that boiled beneath the calmness of Dr. Hiram Carver's practiced professionalism, all that dark water was at once about the ocean and at once something else.
And this is where I'm going to stop that run-on sentence and dive straight into the book.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
Dark Water is, supposedly, a memoir of Dr. Hiram Carver, who had served as a surgeon on the USS Orbis for more than a year, where he was fascinated by the veteran sailor William Borden, with all the man's composure, knowledge, and charisma that is at once calm yet ineffably dominating. Born as a humble fisherman-son, yet quickly rose to be hailed as one of the most capable sailors, he was fully relied on by his Captain, and envied by all the officers who were chosen only because of the old-boy network. He was everything that Hiram Carver, the only son of perhaps Boston's oldest and most prestigious family, ever wanted to be.
Then William Borden went mad. Hiram returned to the shores and became a psychiatrist. Borden was sent to be admitted as a patient into Hiram's ward. Hiram ventured to find the cause of Borden's madness; to save his fallen hero from himself; to "save" the (attractive) fiancée still awaiting Borden's return; and, just maybe - to claim to the world that he, Hiram Carver, had done the impossible and saved a hero and found the panacea for all human madness.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
Now, Hiram's delusional hero complex is well-explored; his hypocrisy and entitlement are littered throughout the book. Yet this is not a character study. Or maybe it is, but the characters and their struggles are so absolutely painfully clear as allegories for something else, that it's absolutely painfully hard for me not to notice them.
A third of the way through, I started jotting down recurring keywords, often rearranging their order to try to make sense of them. Halfway through, I had come up with at least three different theories for each of the keywords. Three-quarters of the way through, I was having an existential crisis about my intelligence, as I was still unable to settle on a definite answer, despite the keywords being thrown at me by the author over and over again.
Alright, that might be a little exaggerated. It's not hard to see the big picture, because the keywords are really obvious and really frequently brought up. But I'm still worried that I might be projecting too much of my own thoughts onto the author's intentions. Because if the author meant what I thought she meant, then this would be one hell of a depressing read.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
This book has juxtaposed many words against each other. Sacrifice and hunger. Strong and weak. Madness and civilization. And, of course, the dark water against all of them.
The link is food. In the book, the characters are eating almost all the time. Not just the characters in the plot, but even the animals in the background descriptions:
Eating. Everyone and everything is eating. The strong eat the weak. The weak eat the strong and become strong. Humans eat animals. Humans in a business suit eat humans in rags. Humans who refuse to eat are thrown into the "madhouse." Humans who are willing to eat can also be thrown into the madhouse, for they are weak. And the weak become sacrifices whenever sacrifices are demanded by the strong.
Yep. Human civilization is an illusion. We're all slaves to the rule of the jungle baby. Mankind might have shambled out of the African rainforests millions of years ago, but we're still inescapably stuck in the same food chain where all our fellow eukaryotes and prokaryotes dwell, all of us killing each other and ourselves under Mother Nature's simple creed: "Eat. Eat so you may live."
In the end, humanity never truly left the African rainforests. And almost every character in this book is a microcosmic piece of that titanic yet unbearably pointless struggle to eat. To live.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
I could and did plan to write more about this message - but, alas, I should probably not let mymisanthropy and belief in Mother Nature's omnipotence personal values, which this book seems to tickle every inch of, from getting the better of me. Here's the thing: I didn't enjoy the writing of this book. If I were honest, I'd say I didn't think it was very well written, but if I put that in a review, I wouldn't be able to exude practiced objectivity. So let's just say that I didn't enjoy the writing, and that led directly to me almost dnf-ing the book within the first 20 pages.
Simply put, the writing just doesn't feel natural. In many cases, it feels downright awkward, the worst offender being the dialogue. It is obvious - and appreciated - that the author is trying to recreate the indirect and (overly) formal tone of a 19th-century upper-class man, but I often feel that the author is deliberately tweaking her prose to achieve this effect. The adjectives are often Big Words, and the characters talk like books (in fact, if you took away the quotation marks, you might not be able to tell the dialogue from the narration). But instead of 19th-century Boston, I imagined an author writing furiously with a thesaurus at her side, and school play actors who just want to go home but are forced to stay on stage until their lines are over.
Well, again, that's just what I feel when I read the prose. Besides, even in my opinion, the writing gets significantly better after the first part (i.e. after Hiram got off the ship), before which I couldn't even figure out what was happening. And I won't deny that there are many sentences and passages throughout the book that struck me with their insight and rawness; the blockquote within the spoiler is the most obvious.
It should also be noted that I've always been one to prefer plot/character over prose - and in that respect Dark Water more than surpassed my expectations. However, I feel it is important to mention this minor quibble because (a) yes, taste in prose is subjective, but I did almost dnf the book over it; and (b) I enjoyed Dark Water mostly because I agreed with its message (or more accurately, its message as I perceived it), and this may not be the case for other readers.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
This is a peculiar book, and I had a peculiar reading experience. In the end, I'll admit that my rating is very subjective - perhaps one of the most subjective I've given on Goodreads. My emotional connection to the subject is probably more a reflection on myself than on the merits of the book.
Regardless, I did have strong emotions whenever I read this book, whether positive or negative. I was never bored, and my mind always found something to analyze - what does this metaphor mean? What is it about the choice of words that makes this sentence seem so stiff? Did Hiram really just ... ? Why are there "hmmm's" and ALL CAPS in the dialogue?
But I was never bored, even if I may have already seen similar character dynamics in a thousand other books already; even if I may have already seen 99% of the twists coming. Sometimes, reading is all about how much a book clicks with you, as you, not you as a critical and nonchalant literary analyzer.
And this book clicked for me. It may not have done so for many others. But for me personally, I'm giving it 5 stars.
And this is where I'm going to stop that run-on sentence and dive straight into the book.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
Dark Water is, supposedly, a memoir of Dr. Hiram Carver, who had served as a surgeon on the USS Orbis for more than a year, where he was fascinated by the veteran sailor William Borden, with all the man's composure, knowledge, and charisma that is at once calm yet ineffably dominating. Born as a humble fisherman-son, yet quickly rose to be hailed as one of the most capable sailors, he was fully relied on by his Captain, and envied by all the officers who were chosen only because of the old-boy network. He was everything that Hiram Carver, the only son of perhaps Boston's oldest and most prestigious family, ever wanted to be.
Then William Borden went mad. Hiram returned to the shores and became a psychiatrist. Borden was sent to be admitted as a patient into Hiram's ward. Hiram ventured to find the cause of Borden's madness; to save his fallen hero from himself; to "save" the (attractive) fiancée still awaiting Borden's return; and, just maybe - to claim to the world that he, Hiram Carver, had done the impossible and saved a hero and found the panacea for all human madness.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
Now, Hiram's delusional hero complex is well-explored; his hypocrisy and entitlement are littered throughout the book. Yet this is not a character study. Or maybe it is, but the characters and their struggles are so absolutely painfully clear as allegories for something else, that it's absolutely painfully hard for me not to notice them.
A third of the way through, I started jotting down recurring keywords, often rearranging their order to try to make sense of them. Halfway through, I had come up with at least three different theories for each of the keywords. Three-quarters of the way through, I was having an existential crisis about my intelligence, as I was still unable to settle on a definite answer, despite the keywords being thrown at me by the author over and over again.
Alright, that might be a little exaggerated. It's not hard to see the big picture, because the keywords are really obvious and really frequently brought up. But I'm still worried that I might be projecting too much of my own thoughts onto the author's intentions. Because if the author meant what I thought she meant, then this would be one hell of a depressing read.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
This book has juxtaposed many words against each other. Sacrifice and hunger. Strong and weak. Madness and civilization. And, of course, the dark water against all of them.
The link is food. In the book, the characters are eating almost all the time. Not just the characters in the plot, but even the animals in the background descriptions:
... I was getting nowhere with Borden. Our daily meetings were torture. All around me, the whole of creation was feeding: tearing, grinding, chewing, sucking, swallowing, ingesting, excreting. The smallest mosquito gorging itself on blood, the lowliest fish pursuing other fish in the river, the very maggots mouthing the earth - every blessed thing was taking into itself whatever was necessary for life ...
Eating. Everyone and everything is eating. The strong eat the weak. The weak eat the strong and become strong. Humans eat animals. Humans in a business suit eat humans in rags. Humans who refuse to eat are thrown into the "madhouse." Humans who are willing to eat can also be thrown into the madhouse, for they are weak. And the weak become sacrifices whenever sacrifices are demanded by the strong.
Yep. Human civilization is an illusion. We're all slaves to the rule of the jungle baby. Mankind might have shambled out of the African rainforests millions of years ago, but we're still inescapably stuck in the same food chain where all our fellow eukaryotes and prokaryotes dwell, all of us killing each other and ourselves under Mother Nature's simple creed: "Eat. Eat so you may live."
In the end, humanity never truly left the African rainforests. And almost every character in this book is a microcosmic piece of that titanic yet unbearably pointless struggle to eat. To live.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
I could and did plan to write more about this message - but, alas, I should probably not let my
Simply put, the writing just doesn't feel natural. In many cases, it feels downright awkward, the worst offender being the dialogue. It is obvious - and appreciated - that the author is trying to recreate the indirect and (overly) formal tone of a 19th-century upper-class man, but I often feel that the author is deliberately tweaking her prose to achieve this effect. The adjectives are often Big Words, and the characters talk like books (in fact, if you took away the quotation marks, you might not be able to tell the dialogue from the narration). But instead of 19th-century Boston, I imagined an author writing furiously with a thesaurus at her side, and school play actors who just want to go home but are forced to stay on stage until their lines are over.
Well, again, that's just what I feel when I read the prose. Besides, even in my opinion, the writing gets significantly better after the first part (i.e. after Hiram got off the ship), before which I couldn't even figure out what was happening. And I won't deny that there are many sentences and passages throughout the book that struck me with their insight and rawness; the blockquote within the spoiler is the most obvious.
It should also be noted that I've always been one to prefer plot/character over prose - and in that respect Dark Water more than surpassed my expectations. However, I feel it is important to mention this minor quibble because (a) yes, taste in prose is subjective, but I did almost dnf the book over it; and (b) I enjoyed Dark Water mostly because I agreed with its message (or more accurately, its message as I perceived it), and this may not be the case for other readers.
┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅┄┅
This is a peculiar book, and I had a peculiar reading experience. In the end, I'll admit that my rating is very subjective - perhaps one of the most subjective I've given on Goodreads. My emotional connection to the subject is probably more a reflection on myself than on the merits of the book.
Regardless, I did have strong emotions whenever I read this book, whether positive or negative. I was never bored, and my mind always found something to analyze - what does this metaphor mean? What is it about the choice of words that makes this sentence seem so stiff? Did Hiram really just ... ? Why are there "hmmm's" and ALL CAPS in the dialogue?
But I was never bored, even if I may have already seen similar character dynamics in a thousand other books already; even if I may have already seen 99% of the twists coming. Sometimes, reading is all about how much a book clicks with you, as you, not you as a critical and nonchalant literary analyzer.
And this book clicked for me. It may not have done so for many others. But for me personally, I'm giving it 5 stars.
September 4, 2018
Firstly, I must say – what a stunning debut this is! So weighty in its execution, and I must commend its author on that. Elizabeth Lowry’s handle on the language throughout this book seemed to have no crest, and not once did its pace falter, or its prose cease to shine. Page after page laid out before me like the two doors of a Victorian wardrobe, with its intricately carved panels of oceanic shapes and leaves, all a deep, rich brown … and similarly, upon reading, felt like thick cuts of meat, in need of attentive chewing.
Secondly, I feel I should give a hearty thanks to the people of Quercus, for sending this book to me. It was a delight and an adventure to read, even though ‘delight’ feels like too light a word. Especially to stand beneath such a heavy narrative. At any rate, on Thursday I will be voyaging down to Waterstones, and purchasing another copy. As a reader, I greatly enjoyed this book, but as a writer I found it incredibly inspiring. This is a book I’d like to keep on my shelf, and return to when I’m in need of a reminder of the sheer force and power that good writing can muster.
“We did not refer to the fact that we were on this vessel, trapped in this demented cage, because we could not get off: because – as long as we wanted to stay alive – there was simply nowhere else to go.”
Aboard the USS Orbis as it embarks from Boston and surges south to round Cape Horn, Hiram Carver takes up his first position as ship’s doctor. Callow and anxious among the seasoned sailors, he struggles in this brutal floating world until he meets William Borden. (taken from the synopsis on the Quercus website)
I think the sections of the story that took place on the Orbis, during the early stages of the book, were some of my favourite. I was swept in by the visceral descriptions and happenings onboard – as if I, too, were on a nine-month voyage with the men of that ship.
The characters introduced are incredibly easy to visualise – thanks to the remarkable physicality that was described, seemingly with ease, by Lowry. Every character seemed real to me, in what they did and said – but it was less in their dialogue, and more in their actions. Their believability amazed me, and drew me in further. I often, as a reader, find it difficult to root myself when it comes to characters. Even when writing them, it isn’t until I’m a bulk of the way through a book that I can really see them. But I could envisage each and every one of Lowry’s characters without any difficulty at all. The way they moved, the expressions they pulled, their presence on the page … masterfully done.
“In every life, I now believe, there is one event that is the wellspring of fundamental agony and decision in us. It lies beneath the sunlit layers of the present moment, throwing its shade across the foundations of our being, forming the self to come. If grasped and brought to the surface, it can save us or destroy us.”
I could harp on all day about the prose, in true Carver fashion, but it really was exquisite. The reviews that are surfacing, much like buoys in the ocean, have spoken at length about the story’s depth and resonance. About its twists and turning points, its synthesis and antithesis … and I stand by their positive words, I do. But the prose truly amazed me, and I can’t help but reel on about it.
Even the way that the metaphorical visuals never wavered from the book’s overall tone. Details like “–my thoughts were capsized by a wave of confusion–”, that served to keep the reader fully immersed in the story – and on that vinegar-soaked boat – at all times. And I don’t think any description felt out of place or out of theme. Few books, I feel, handle this as well as Dark Water. I’ll often find myself taken off the page by their descriptions, however beautiful or evocative they may be, and I’ll need to dive back in with every subsequent sentence.
With this story? I didn’t. Instead, I felt completely immersed each time I opened a chapter and resumed reading.
I will admit, at times I did find the prose overwhelming. There were moments when they read so richly and were so multifaceted that I was almost blinded by them. But those moments were short lived, and probably spoke less about Lowry’s handle on language, and more about my – probably lacklustre in comparison – vocabulary.
“Mad? I wanted to shout. Aren’t you mad? And you? Aren’t I? We’re all mad. Here we are, piloting a wood-shaving over an abyss. Is there a better definition of madness?”
Now, I will come away (briefly) from my thoughts on the structure of the book, and talk a little about its narrative.
Truth, I feel, is one of the core themes of this book. But the madness of the mind is, too. When protagonist Hiram is taken on as assistant physician at Charlestown’s mental asylum, the story begins to open its doors and show its true colours. I will admit I was briefly disheartened the moment Hiram returned to Boston after sailing on the Orbis. I had, in my mind, prepared myself for a book set entirely onboard, and was quite happy with that self-made premonition … but alas, the heart of the story wasn’t to be found on that boat – and I soon came to love the land-dwellers world, too.
But above Truth and Madness, the thing that sits in the centre of this story, and indeed embodies all its themes, is Hiram Carver’s private obsession … William Borden.
“And as I write I fear that the shape I am giving to Will Borden is not his true shape, that it has been digested, disfigured, in the acid element of myself.”
I found their relationship, and Hiram’s dissection of it, truly gripping. Almost romantic, in a dark way. And upon finishing the book, these two men remain in my mind. As if they’re still sitting on a boat, with a fishing net between them. A lasting impression, indeed – and further proof of this book’s well-sculpted characters.
‘So. Here we are, Hiram.’ He shrugged his scalpel-like shoulders. ‘Two scarecrows in a garden.’
Dark Water feels like a classic novel – despite being a (historic) contemporary debut. Like it could have been released many, many years ago. Not because it is literally set over a century ago, but because of its strength. Its lasting impact. And I think the story itself can stand alone as its own classic, regardless of its imminent debut.
Not only is Lowry’s mastery of prose sky-high, but her awareness of pace was enthralling. You almost feel like you’re sailing along whilst you read, actually aboard a ship of your own, and then occasionally a sentence will slam down like a whirlpool and you’ll almost feel it under you. I found it an exciting feeling and was happy with the ride from start to finish. Each high and each low was perfectly graduated, and when it did plummet, it hit hard every single time. No high-point felt underwhelming, and my reactions to them remained unnumbed.
“The place felt like glass, both fragile and dangerous, as if something might shatter at any moment.”
The final moments of the book held an intensity that made my eyes water, for I couldn’t blink. I felt pulled in by a sea-storm and span out the other side. It’s been a long while since I’ve read a book that held such relentless intensity, and tender beauty, all at the same time.
Seek this book out, especially if you’re a lover of historical fiction. It’s a voyage you will not regret climbing aboard, even if Hiram Carver himself regrets every minute of it.
***
(You can also find this review, and others like it, on my website: http://lewisjphillips.com/dark-water-...)
Secondly, I feel I should give a hearty thanks to the people of Quercus, for sending this book to me. It was a delight and an adventure to read, even though ‘delight’ feels like too light a word. Especially to stand beneath such a heavy narrative. At any rate, on Thursday I will be voyaging down to Waterstones, and purchasing another copy. As a reader, I greatly enjoyed this book, but as a writer I found it incredibly inspiring. This is a book I’d like to keep on my shelf, and return to when I’m in need of a reminder of the sheer force and power that good writing can muster.
“We did not refer to the fact that we were on this vessel, trapped in this demented cage, because we could not get off: because – as long as we wanted to stay alive – there was simply nowhere else to go.”
Aboard the USS Orbis as it embarks from Boston and surges south to round Cape Horn, Hiram Carver takes up his first position as ship’s doctor. Callow and anxious among the seasoned sailors, he struggles in this brutal floating world until he meets William Borden. (taken from the synopsis on the Quercus website)
I think the sections of the story that took place on the Orbis, during the early stages of the book, were some of my favourite. I was swept in by the visceral descriptions and happenings onboard – as if I, too, were on a nine-month voyage with the men of that ship.
The characters introduced are incredibly easy to visualise – thanks to the remarkable physicality that was described, seemingly with ease, by Lowry. Every character seemed real to me, in what they did and said – but it was less in their dialogue, and more in their actions. Their believability amazed me, and drew me in further. I often, as a reader, find it difficult to root myself when it comes to characters. Even when writing them, it isn’t until I’m a bulk of the way through a book that I can really see them. But I could envisage each and every one of Lowry’s characters without any difficulty at all. The way they moved, the expressions they pulled, their presence on the page … masterfully done.
“In every life, I now believe, there is one event that is the wellspring of fundamental agony and decision in us. It lies beneath the sunlit layers of the present moment, throwing its shade across the foundations of our being, forming the self to come. If grasped and brought to the surface, it can save us or destroy us.”
I could harp on all day about the prose, in true Carver fashion, but it really was exquisite. The reviews that are surfacing, much like buoys in the ocean, have spoken at length about the story’s depth and resonance. About its twists and turning points, its synthesis and antithesis … and I stand by their positive words, I do. But the prose truly amazed me, and I can’t help but reel on about it.
Even the way that the metaphorical visuals never wavered from the book’s overall tone. Details like “–my thoughts were capsized by a wave of confusion–”, that served to keep the reader fully immersed in the story – and on that vinegar-soaked boat – at all times. And I don’t think any description felt out of place or out of theme. Few books, I feel, handle this as well as Dark Water. I’ll often find myself taken off the page by their descriptions, however beautiful or evocative they may be, and I’ll need to dive back in with every subsequent sentence.
With this story? I didn’t. Instead, I felt completely immersed each time I opened a chapter and resumed reading.
I will admit, at times I did find the prose overwhelming. There were moments when they read so richly and were so multifaceted that I was almost blinded by them. But those moments were short lived, and probably spoke less about Lowry’s handle on language, and more about my – probably lacklustre in comparison – vocabulary.
“Mad? I wanted to shout. Aren’t you mad? And you? Aren’t I? We’re all mad. Here we are, piloting a wood-shaving over an abyss. Is there a better definition of madness?”
Now, I will come away (briefly) from my thoughts on the structure of the book, and talk a little about its narrative.
Truth, I feel, is one of the core themes of this book. But the madness of the mind is, too. When protagonist Hiram is taken on as assistant physician at Charlestown’s mental asylum, the story begins to open its doors and show its true colours. I will admit I was briefly disheartened the moment Hiram returned to Boston after sailing on the Orbis. I had, in my mind, prepared myself for a book set entirely onboard, and was quite happy with that self-made premonition … but alas, the heart of the story wasn’t to be found on that boat – and I soon came to love the land-dwellers world, too.
But above Truth and Madness, the thing that sits in the centre of this story, and indeed embodies all its themes, is Hiram Carver’s private obsession … William Borden.
“And as I write I fear that the shape I am giving to Will Borden is not his true shape, that it has been digested, disfigured, in the acid element of myself.”
I found their relationship, and Hiram’s dissection of it, truly gripping. Almost romantic, in a dark way. And upon finishing the book, these two men remain in my mind. As if they’re still sitting on a boat, with a fishing net between them. A lasting impression, indeed – and further proof of this book’s well-sculpted characters.
‘So. Here we are, Hiram.’ He shrugged his scalpel-like shoulders. ‘Two scarecrows in a garden.’
Dark Water feels like a classic novel – despite being a (historic) contemporary debut. Like it could have been released many, many years ago. Not because it is literally set over a century ago, but because of its strength. Its lasting impact. And I think the story itself can stand alone as its own classic, regardless of its imminent debut.
Not only is Lowry’s mastery of prose sky-high, but her awareness of pace was enthralling. You almost feel like you’re sailing along whilst you read, actually aboard a ship of your own, and then occasionally a sentence will slam down like a whirlpool and you’ll almost feel it under you. I found it an exciting feeling and was happy with the ride from start to finish. Each high and each low was perfectly graduated, and when it did plummet, it hit hard every single time. No high-point felt underwhelming, and my reactions to them remained unnumbed.
“The place felt like glass, both fragile and dangerous, as if something might shatter at any moment.”
The final moments of the book held an intensity that made my eyes water, for I couldn’t blink. I felt pulled in by a sea-storm and span out the other side. It’s been a long while since I’ve read a book that held such relentless intensity, and tender beauty, all at the same time.
Seek this book out, especially if you’re a lover of historical fiction. It’s a voyage you will not regret climbing aboard, even if Hiram Carver himself regrets every minute of it.
***
(You can also find this review, and others like it, on my website: http://lewisjphillips.com/dark-water-...)
November 14, 2023
A difficult book to review. Lowry writes well, capturing the Gothic novel. The story is a good one too, satisfyingly meaty, with classic elements- seafaring adventures, mutiny, survival, 19th C medicine, an Asylum and treatments there, romance, emotional and sexual repression,Class, religious conformity., gender disparity. There are interesting characters, male and female, followed over a lengthy time period. The novel's sense of time & place feels real with the underpinning of proper research. You know there's a 'but' coming, don't you?!
My main beef is having to spend so much time in company with the appalling Hiram Carver, self-absorbed, mean-spirited, narrow-minded, entitled, priggish, misogynistic, chauvinistic, snobbish, emotionally stunted, devious...I could go on but you get the picture. Sigh. In other words your typical late 19th C upper middle class male. Now had he learned something and become a 'better man' I'd have sympathy: you can't help your birth and background. However Hiram just goes on selfishly and in the process ruins lives without showing any understanding or willingness to consider others.
I forgot to add judgemental to that long list of character flaws, weak and, above all, jealous. What I most wanted having reached the end was to read the perspectives of certain female characters so much more interesting and deserving than Hiram. To take one example, what does Caro his sister really think of her younger brother's spiteful refusal to allow her use of their father's study?
Of course the Big Secret will be guessed easily by most readers. Nonetheless the novel is a marvelous read, thought-provoking, literary, and, importantly, realistic in its recreation of late 19th C New England, warts and all. My instinctive disliking of Dr Carver is down to Lowry's brilliant creation of him to skewer his type, given rein by accident of birth to keep those lacking his privileges firmly in place, those whose stories conventionally were not told. Historical fiction at its best.
My main beef is having to spend so much time in company with the appalling Hiram Carver, self-absorbed, mean-spirited, narrow-minded, entitled, priggish, misogynistic, chauvinistic, snobbish, emotionally stunted, devious...I could go on but you get the picture. Sigh. In other words your typical late 19th C upper middle class male. Now had he learned something and become a 'better man' I'd have sympathy: you can't help your birth and background. However Hiram just goes on selfishly and in the process ruins lives without showing any understanding or willingness to consider others.
I forgot to add judgemental to that long list of character flaws, weak and, above all, jealous. What I most wanted having reached the end was to read the perspectives of certain female characters so much more interesting and deserving than Hiram. To take one example, what does Caro his sister really think of her younger brother's spiteful refusal to allow her use of their father's study?
Of course the Big Secret will be guessed easily by most readers. Nonetheless the novel is a marvelous read, thought-provoking, literary, and, importantly, realistic in its recreation of late 19th C New England, warts and all. My instinctive disliking of Dr Carver is down to Lowry's brilliant creation of him to skewer his type, given rein by accident of birth to keep those lacking his privileges firmly in place, those whose stories conventionally were not told. Historical fiction at its best.
January 3, 2019
We've had to wait six years for Ms Lowry's second book but it was worth it. Slight shades of Gothic in this one. Boston 1833 Hiram Carter defies his family's wishes to become a doctor and becomes a seaman instead. But it soon becomes apparent this is not the job for him. While on his first ship he meets William Borden a hero of a previous mutiny. Back on dry land Carter falls in with his family and starts work at an asylum. Here he is confronted with Borden again as he has been brought here following an incident on board ship. Carter feels Borden is not mad but realises he will have to take him back to the fateful mutiny in order to help him. But unlocking Borden's memories leads to difficulties for Dr Carter himself. Terrific read.
December 7, 2018
2,5-ish. It felt like this book didn't have any conclusion or wrap-up. If I were to describe the story it was a straight line from start to finish without any real highs and lows in-between. The big twist was something I assumed all along, so maybe that's why I feel like this story never really took off. .
March 24, 2019
What has made writer Elizabeth Lowry take on the challenge of writing this book? The settings of the sea, a ship and an asylum may not attract the crowds. Further more this historical novel does not deal with either WW 1 or WW 2 – the popular periods for historical novels. And then there is the cannibalism – that will turn some readers away.
The start of Dark Water is also difficult. I nearly gave up. I like to give at least three stars and this was not rising up to that. I persisted, and was then rewarded. Indeed I enjoyed the middle of the book and towards the end of it I even considered staying up to finish it.
The story is good. It is uncommon. It is not what you expect. Stories like this need to be told. It is good to be aware of the dark waters of the mind.
Elizabeth Lowry structures Dark Water well. There are swift movements between times (now and past) and these are not predictable. Also starting with the sea and nearly closing with it kind of rounds things up. She slowly builds tension in clever ways, but the climax is slightly too long.
Both main characters are male. William Borden is tall, handsome and considered a hero of seas. Hiram Carver comes from an established well-to-do medical family. There are social expectations for both and the burden of this as well as their upbringing forms the basis for the story. Who can admit truth to self or the other, and then live?
In addition to William and Hiram, there are many other characters in Dark Water, but the reader does not really get mixed up with them. These characters are mainly used to build the picture of doctor Hiram Carver. The female characters (a sister and a loved one) portray the female roles of that time with slight twists. For the asylum inmates Lowry has used real case studies and the history of an asylum in Charlestown, though not directly. Some of the sayings are also based on real sayings. This she explains in the acknowledgements.
Elizabeth Lowry writes well. I can recommend this book to all those interested in the human psychology, to those on the lookout for something different and to those of us who don’t mind a darker book now and then. I would have given five stars if some things had been explained a little more clearly and the uncommon words had sat more naturally in their surroundings.
Reviewed by: leeawrites.wordpress.com
The start of Dark Water is also difficult. I nearly gave up. I like to give at least three stars and this was not rising up to that. I persisted, and was then rewarded. Indeed I enjoyed the middle of the book and towards the end of it I even considered staying up to finish it.
The story is good. It is uncommon. It is not what you expect. Stories like this need to be told. It is good to be aware of the dark waters of the mind.
Elizabeth Lowry structures Dark Water well. There are swift movements between times (now and past) and these are not predictable. Also starting with the sea and nearly closing with it kind of rounds things up. She slowly builds tension in clever ways, but the climax is slightly too long.
Both main characters are male. William Borden is tall, handsome and considered a hero of seas. Hiram Carver comes from an established well-to-do medical family. There are social expectations for both and the burden of this as well as their upbringing forms the basis for the story. Who can admit truth to self or the other, and then live?
In addition to William and Hiram, there are many other characters in Dark Water, but the reader does not really get mixed up with them. These characters are mainly used to build the picture of doctor Hiram Carver. The female characters (a sister and a loved one) portray the female roles of that time with slight twists. For the asylum inmates Lowry has used real case studies and the history of an asylum in Charlestown, though not directly. Some of the sayings are also based on real sayings. This she explains in the acknowledgements.
Elizabeth Lowry writes well. I can recommend this book to all those interested in the human psychology, to those on the lookout for something different and to those of us who don’t mind a darker book now and then. I would have given five stars if some things had been explained a little more clearly and the uncommon words had sat more naturally in their surroundings.
Reviewed by: leeawrites.wordpress.com
September 6, 2018
Actually 4.5 stars.
I have to admit that this book took me a fair while to really get into but, once I was there, the time just started to run away with itself as I got more and more immersed in what I was reading. Also, while I'm admitting things, one of the key selling points of this book to me was that it is set in Boston and that is a place that I absolutely loved when I visited a few years ago on my first trip state-side.
So, we start on board a ship with our hero Hiram Carver taking up his first job as ship's doctor. And what a rude awakening that turned out to be as it was in rather difficult circumstances that he first met William Borden, a hero of the past but now struggling somewhat. This meeting and what happened thereafter forged links between the two men and, years later, they were to meet again in of all things an Insane Asylum. Carver resuming his role as Borden's doctor once again in a mission to cure Borden's madness.
Gosh, this book was dark in places. It also made me feel quite claustrophobic at times which I think was more to do with the wonderful language used more than the actual story at times. It was also a book that could be read on several levels. This first read of mine had me wanting to get to the end more than stopping and "smelling the roses" so to speak. If I re-read, and I fully intend to do so even though it is not something I usually do, I will definitely be taking my time and savouring the journey. It was also, for me anyway, quite a visual book for the most part. I don't always manage to "see" what I am reading but her the images conjured up in my head were quite vivid and indeed visceral at times and I think this also helped with my overall enjoyment of the book. It definitely brought the wonderfully crafted characters to life.
There is so much more I could say about this book, indeed I may even come back and edit this review in the future when I have completed my re-read. There are things that I have bound to have let go over my head which will only enhance things on second reading. But suffice to say that this book sucked me in and held me fast right up until the end, and probably beyond. My thanks go to the Publisher and Netgalley for the chance to read this book.
I have to admit that this book took me a fair while to really get into but, once I was there, the time just started to run away with itself as I got more and more immersed in what I was reading. Also, while I'm admitting things, one of the key selling points of this book to me was that it is set in Boston and that is a place that I absolutely loved when I visited a few years ago on my first trip state-side.
So, we start on board a ship with our hero Hiram Carver taking up his first job as ship's doctor. And what a rude awakening that turned out to be as it was in rather difficult circumstances that he first met William Borden, a hero of the past but now struggling somewhat. This meeting and what happened thereafter forged links between the two men and, years later, they were to meet again in of all things an Insane Asylum. Carver resuming his role as Borden's doctor once again in a mission to cure Borden's madness.
Gosh, this book was dark in places. It also made me feel quite claustrophobic at times which I think was more to do with the wonderful language used more than the actual story at times. It was also a book that could be read on several levels. This first read of mine had me wanting to get to the end more than stopping and "smelling the roses" so to speak. If I re-read, and I fully intend to do so even though it is not something I usually do, I will definitely be taking my time and savouring the journey. It was also, for me anyway, quite a visual book for the most part. I don't always manage to "see" what I am reading but her the images conjured up in my head were quite vivid and indeed visceral at times and I think this also helped with my overall enjoyment of the book. It definitely brought the wonderfully crafted characters to life.
There is so much more I could say about this book, indeed I may even come back and edit this review in the future when I have completed my re-read. There are things that I have bound to have let go over my head which will only enhance things on second reading. But suffice to say that this book sucked me in and held me fast right up until the end, and probably beyond. My thanks go to the Publisher and Netgalley for the chance to read this book.
December 29, 2018
Set in 19th Century America - though parts are at sea - this follows the stories of Hiram Carver & William Borden. They first meet on board a whaling ship where Carver is the Doctor and Bordon a recently promoted but still lowly officer. We meet them again later where Carver is a Doctor in an upper class asylum and Borden a patient.
I found this book a bit of a struggle if I am perfectly honest. There is a lot of underlying meaning behind the book which I didn't always follow - or indeed want to follow. There is a lot of discussion about the metaphysical aspects of the mind and the intricacies of that within this story. This aspect of the book just wasn't for me & I found myself skipping over sections.
The actual story itself is reasonably sound and interesting. Hiram Carver seems at face value to be a young & inexperienced Doctor and very amiable. However as the book goes on we find there is much more to him than meets the eye. He can be very devious and manipulative and not beyond allowing others to take the rap for his errors. William Bordon is a complex character as are his relationships with Carver, his fiance, the cabin boy and the people around him.
I found the whole book quite turgid and it certainly didn't flow well. This is a book which isn't really designed to be read totally at face value. The reader also needs to be prepared to look deeper into the human psyche which I didn't find particularly interesting. Don't get me wrong, I am interested in psychology but the way this book tackled the human mind I didn't find that interesting.
Having read other reviews I see that readers have enjoyed this book when they have engaged with it at a deeper level than I did. I don't think this was the book for me.
I received a free copy of this book via Netgalley.
I found this book a bit of a struggle if I am perfectly honest. There is a lot of underlying meaning behind the book which I didn't always follow - or indeed want to follow. There is a lot of discussion about the metaphysical aspects of the mind and the intricacies of that within this story. This aspect of the book just wasn't for me & I found myself skipping over sections.
The actual story itself is reasonably sound and interesting. Hiram Carver seems at face value to be a young & inexperienced Doctor and very amiable. However as the book goes on we find there is much more to him than meets the eye. He can be very devious and manipulative and not beyond allowing others to take the rap for his errors. William Bordon is a complex character as are his relationships with Carver, his fiance, the cabin boy and the people around him.
I found the whole book quite turgid and it certainly didn't flow well. This is a book which isn't really designed to be read totally at face value. The reader also needs to be prepared to look deeper into the human psyche which I didn't find particularly interesting. Don't get me wrong, I am interested in psychology but the way this book tackled the human mind I didn't find that interesting.
Having read other reviews I see that readers have enjoyed this book when they have engaged with it at a deeper level than I did. I don't think this was the book for me.
I received a free copy of this book via Netgalley.
March 4, 2020
Elizabeth Lowry’s second novel, Dark Water, was longlisted for the Walter Scott Prize for Historical Fiction. It promised dark psychological insight, a complex central relationship, and historical atmosphere. However, though it succeeded on some level on all of these things, it failed to fully engage me.
Lowry’s writing is vivid and pungent, her descriptions so rich you can smell them. Whether describing the brooding purplish clouds of a storm hanging over a ship, or a character’s distraught and confused mental state, her skill with words is obvious. The relationships between the characters, particularly Carver and his sister, are fascinating in the moments when they are allowed to bloom on the page.
But I was bored. I was so bored I flicked ahead to see how many pages I had left and groaned aloud at the thought of having to spend so much more time in this story. The supposed twist about Borden’s past is guessable from the very beginning, so there’s no tension and no shock when it’s finally revealed.
The most exciting part of the story takes place on the ship, the USS Orbis, but this is over far too quickly and, for most of the plot, we’re stuck in the tedious day-to-day work of the asylum.
It becomes tiring to read florid and lengthy descriptions about Carver’s mental state when there’s nothing actually moving the plot forward, there’s no tension and nothing to get excited about. Because the writing is so dense, it’s tempting to let your eyes just skim over the words until something actually happens.
Had Lowry combined her obvious writing skills with an actual plot, this would have been a much better book. As it was, I was more than glad to finally reach the last page of Dark Water.
Lowry’s writing is vivid and pungent, her descriptions so rich you can smell them. Whether describing the brooding purplish clouds of a storm hanging over a ship, or a character’s distraught and confused mental state, her skill with words is obvious. The relationships between the characters, particularly Carver and his sister, are fascinating in the moments when they are allowed to bloom on the page.
But I was bored. I was so bored I flicked ahead to see how many pages I had left and groaned aloud at the thought of having to spend so much more time in this story. The supposed twist about Borden’s past is guessable from the very beginning, so there’s no tension and no shock when it’s finally revealed.
The most exciting part of the story takes place on the ship, the USS Orbis, but this is over far too quickly and, for most of the plot, we’re stuck in the tedious day-to-day work of the asylum.
It becomes tiring to read florid and lengthy descriptions about Carver’s mental state when there’s nothing actually moving the plot forward, there’s no tension and nothing to get excited about. Because the writing is so dense, it’s tempting to let your eyes just skim over the words until something actually happens.
Had Lowry combined her obvious writing skills with an actual plot, this would have been a much better book. As it was, I was more than glad to finally reach the last page of Dark Water.
February 13, 2023
The partial memoir of Hiram Carver, a doctor of the mind in 19th century America, specifically relating to a young man he met during his brief and unpleasant time as a ship's doctor (assistant). William (Billy) Borden is a hero, or is he? The story goes that Billy saved several crew members when they were cast adrift following a mutiny. The truth, as it emerges, is somewhat less straightforward.
During the voyage in which they meet, Billy Borden apparently loses his mind and seriously attacks an officer, before lapsing into near-catatonia. Carver is assigned to care for him but eventually ends up succumbing to illness himself.
Abandoning his hopes of running away to see, Carver settles down to a job in the local asylum, found for him by his wealthy but not very supportive father. Our protagonist is not a particularly likeable character and often displays an alarming lack of insight into what is going on around him. He betrays several people who are trying to do what's best for him, or who have done him no harm. Borden arrives at the hospital and Carver once again tries to treat him, by getting him to talk about what really went on when he was adrift.
Themes of hunger, physical and spiritual, recur in this story and the writing is often lovely. Not an easy read, but an interesting one. No happy end to the story and I felt for the female characters who were so constrained in what they could hope for from life.
The relat
During the voyage in which they meet, Billy Borden apparently loses his mind and seriously attacks an officer, before lapsing into near-catatonia. Carver is assigned to care for him but eventually ends up succumbing to illness himself.
Abandoning his hopes of running away to see, Carver settles down to a job in the local asylum, found for him by his wealthy but not very supportive father. Our protagonist is not a particularly likeable character and often displays an alarming lack of insight into what is going on around him. He betrays several people who are trying to do what's best for him, or who have done him no harm. Borden arrives at the hospital and Carver once again tries to treat him, by getting him to talk about what really went on when he was adrift.
Themes of hunger, physical and spiritual, recur in this story and the writing is often lovely. Not an easy read, but an interesting one. No happy end to the story and I felt for the female characters who were so constrained in what they could hope for from life.
The relat
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
September 19, 2018
Set in the first half of the 1800s, Dark Water is a complex, layered novel exploring the human psyche and what makes us human. Dr Hiram Carver is the narrator and after a stint on the USS Orbis as assistant surgeon, he is employed at the Asylum for the Insane in Charlestown, Boston. The Asylum allows no visitors for its patients, nor any real treatment, but rather a refuge for them. It is here that Carver again meets with William Borden who he first encountered on the Orbis but is now 'lost'. Borden comes with a heroic status after saving the captain of the USS Providence, and other officers, from a mutiny, leading them through two months at sea in a dinghy with no provisions to the safety of South America. How he accomplished this miraculous feat is at the heart of this gothic tale. Indeed the sea itself can be seen as a character and a metaphor for the mind.
Highly visual and intriguing, the novel centres on the relationship between the two men and what draws each to the other. The writing is full of symbolism, references and stunning imagery to challenge the reader and leave it open to interpretation. Considering its complexity, it's a credit to the author that it's so readable and engaging.
Highly visual and intriguing, the novel centres on the relationship between the two men and what draws each to the other. The writing is full of symbolism, references and stunning imagery to challenge the reader and leave it open to interpretation. Considering its complexity, it's a credit to the author that it's so readable and engaging.
July 29, 2022
⚓⚓⚓⚓⚓
"That’s what wanting is. The looking for what you cannot have.’"
#DarkWater by #ElizabethLowry (published by riverrun, a subsidiary of Quercus Books) is uniquely difficult to explain, and, therefore, review. You almost need to read it for yourself to understand all the connections.
Hiram Carver, our protagonist, starts as an out of his depth (sorry) ships surgeon, who, at the end of his maiden voyage decided to turn his hand to curing the insane rather than going back on a ship. The novel, from here, revolves around his obsession with solving the mystery of William Borden. I could go into full details, the book has been out since 2018 so spoilers are hard to be avoided, but I can't help but feel some realisations need to happen organically.
Lowry manages to transport readers into the heart of the story, blending Dickens & Shakespeare into the mix with ease. Lowry also manages to force readers to reach for the dictionary, at least, she did me. For example; aperçu - a comment or brief reference that makes an illuminating or entertaining point.
"What an awful thing it is to be alive. Who, given the choice, would choose it?"
"That’s what wanting is. The looking for what you cannot have.’"
#DarkWater by #ElizabethLowry (published by riverrun, a subsidiary of Quercus Books) is uniquely difficult to explain, and, therefore, review. You almost need to read it for yourself to understand all the connections.
Hiram Carver, our protagonist, starts as an out of his depth (sorry) ships surgeon, who, at the end of his maiden voyage decided to turn his hand to curing the insane rather than going back on a ship. The novel, from here, revolves around his obsession with solving the mystery of William Borden. I could go into full details, the book has been out since 2018 so spoilers are hard to be avoided, but I can't help but feel some realisations need to happen organically.
Lowry manages to transport readers into the heart of the story, blending Dickens & Shakespeare into the mix with ease. Lowry also manages to force readers to reach for the dictionary, at least, she did me. For example; aperçu - a comment or brief reference that makes an illuminating or entertaining point.
"What an awful thing it is to be alive. Who, given the choice, would choose it?"
Displaying 1 - 30 of 50 reviews