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The Frayed Atlantic Edge
‘This is the book that has been wanting to be written for decades: the ragged fringe of Britain as a laboratory for the human spirit’ Adam Nicolson
Over the course of a year, leading historian and nature writer David Gange kayaked the weather-ravaged coasts of Atlantic Britain and Ireland from north to south: every cove, sound, inlet, island.
The idea was to travel slowly and close to the water: in touch with both the natural world and the histories of communities on Atlantic coastlines. The story of his journey is one of staggering adventure, range and beauty. For too long, Gange argues, the significance of coasts has been underestimated, and the potential of small boats as tools to make sense of these histories rarely explored. This book seeks to put that imbalance right.
Paddling alone in sun and storms, among dozens of whales and countless seabirds, Gange and his kayak travelled through a Shetland summer, Scottish winter and Irish spring before reaching Wales and Cornwall. Sitting low in the water, as did millions in eras when coasts were the main arteries of trade and communication, Gange describes, in captivating prose and loving detail, the experiences of kayaking, coastal living and historical discovery.
Drawing on the archives of islands and coastal towns, as well as their vast poetic literatures in many languages, he shows that the neglected histories of these stunning regions are of real importance in understanding both the past and future of the whole archipelago. It is a history of Britain and Ireland like no other.
Over the course of a year, leading historian and nature writer David Gange kayaked the weather-ravaged coasts of Atlantic Britain and Ireland from north to south: every cove, sound, inlet, island.
The idea was to travel slowly and close to the water: in touch with both the natural world and the histories of communities on Atlantic coastlines. The story of his journey is one of staggering adventure, range and beauty. For too long, Gange argues, the significance of coasts has been underestimated, and the potential of small boats as tools to make sense of these histories rarely explored. This book seeks to put that imbalance right.
Paddling alone in sun and storms, among dozens of whales and countless seabirds, Gange and his kayak travelled through a Shetland summer, Scottish winter and Irish spring before reaching Wales and Cornwall. Sitting low in the water, as did millions in eras when coasts were the main arteries of trade and communication, Gange describes, in captivating prose and loving detail, the experiences of kayaking, coastal living and historical discovery.
Drawing on the archives of islands and coastal towns, as well as their vast poetic literatures in many languages, he shows that the neglected histories of these stunning regions are of real importance in understanding both the past and future of the whole archipelago. It is a history of Britain and Ireland like no other.
400 pages, Paperback
First published July 11, 2019
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 77 reviews
July 3, 2020
The Atlantic Ocean has shaped us as an island nation as much as the North Sea did. As the petrel flies there are 800 miles between the tip of Cornwall to the very northern point of Shetland, Out Stack. This coast though is not straight by any means, as that short distance of our planet is a complex blend of beaches, cliffs, inlets, coves caves, headlands and makeup around 10,000 miles of staggeringly beautiful coastline.
The communities that face this mighty ocean rely on it for income and livelihoods and have grown used to its changing moods from balmy summer days to the fiercest winter storms that pummel the coast. The best way to explore these places is on the water and that is exactly what the historian and nature writer David Gange sets out to do over the course of a year. He wasn’t there to just to paddle it over the shortest routes, rather he wanted to experience the coastlines, feel the swell of the Atlantic, explore the towns and villages along the shore and soak up some of the histories along the way.
Being that close to the sea all day paddling slowly past and sleeping wild on the shore means that Gange develops an intimacy with these places that he passes, so much so that he starts to become one with nature. He sees countless seabirds, giant basking sharks, countless seals and watches otters from his kayak many times. As well as the swell that comes of this ocean, he occasionally feels the full power of the Atlantic storms as they hit the coastline. Where this really works for me as a book though is the in-depth knowledge of the history of places that he writes about as he passes them.
His journey begins in Shetland just as spring turns to summer. He sits watching the sun gleam off the back of fulmars as it barely dips below the horizon. Three hours later he is awake and being watched by a skua. He first journey is across the water to Out Stack with the North Sea on his right, turning left he is going to be at the mercy of the Atlantic now. It is not a constant journey, rather fitted in via work and other commitments, so his next journey is past the Islands of Orkney in late summer. It is here too that he starts to see the power of the ocean, taking photographs of waves that would warm a surfers heart.
Later September finds him in the Western Isles as he paddles down from the Butt of Lewis to Barra Head, stopping in at Taobh Tuath to get a feel for the history of Lewis. The journey from Balnakiel to Ullapool take him past the magnificently named Cape Wrath and onto the mainland of Scotland for the first time. December’s forecast had promised storms, so the journey headed inland for the first time, heading from mountain to Bothy whilst savouring the wildness of the landscape. The New Year finds him paddling around the beautiful Isle of Skye. This was much more geared to the tourist than he had so far been used to, and the weather was beginning to worsen. It wasn’t until Gange got to Argyll and Ulster that it fully turned and he was hit with snow.
It takes two separate journeys to paddle the West Coast of Ireland and it is here that he considers just how much we rely of the sea to provide for us as a species and just how little with know about the secrets of the deep. The next journey is technically in the Irish Sea, but going from Bardsey to the Bristol Channel is still facing the Atlantic, before returning to the ocean for the last stretch along the Cornish coast.
I really enjoyed this book about our Western seaboard. Gange’s writing doesn’t feel that you are jumping from one subject to another, rather he has has a way of neatly wrapping the layers of history, natural history and travel up in his prose. It also shows that history and life do happen outside the south-east and London and always has done. It doesn’t feel rushed either, the important thing about this book is the places he passes on his journey. Time spent Life at the pace of a kayak means he can absorb the seascape and mull things over as he bobs about. This book has the best maps I have ever seen in a travel book. Why can’t every travel book have them this well produced? Glad to see some photos in the book, but there are a lot more of his journey here. 4.5 stars
The communities that face this mighty ocean rely on it for income and livelihoods and have grown used to its changing moods from balmy summer days to the fiercest winter storms that pummel the coast. The best way to explore these places is on the water and that is exactly what the historian and nature writer David Gange sets out to do over the course of a year. He wasn’t there to just to paddle it over the shortest routes, rather he wanted to experience the coastlines, feel the swell of the Atlantic, explore the towns and villages along the shore and soak up some of the histories along the way.
Being that close to the sea all day paddling slowly past and sleeping wild on the shore means that Gange develops an intimacy with these places that he passes, so much so that he starts to become one with nature. He sees countless seabirds, giant basking sharks, countless seals and watches otters from his kayak many times. As well as the swell that comes of this ocean, he occasionally feels the full power of the Atlantic storms as they hit the coastline. Where this really works for me as a book though is the in-depth knowledge of the history of places that he writes about as he passes them.
His journey begins in Shetland just as spring turns to summer. He sits watching the sun gleam off the back of fulmars as it barely dips below the horizon. Three hours later he is awake and being watched by a skua. He first journey is across the water to Out Stack with the North Sea on his right, turning left he is going to be at the mercy of the Atlantic now. It is not a constant journey, rather fitted in via work and other commitments, so his next journey is past the Islands of Orkney in late summer. It is here too that he starts to see the power of the ocean, taking photographs of waves that would warm a surfers heart.
Later September finds him in the Western Isles as he paddles down from the Butt of Lewis to Barra Head, stopping in at Taobh Tuath to get a feel for the history of Lewis. The journey from Balnakiel to Ullapool take him past the magnificently named Cape Wrath and onto the mainland of Scotland for the first time. December’s forecast had promised storms, so the journey headed inland for the first time, heading from mountain to Bothy whilst savouring the wildness of the landscape. The New Year finds him paddling around the beautiful Isle of Skye. This was much more geared to the tourist than he had so far been used to, and the weather was beginning to worsen. It wasn’t until Gange got to Argyll and Ulster that it fully turned and he was hit with snow.
It takes two separate journeys to paddle the West Coast of Ireland and it is here that he considers just how much we rely of the sea to provide for us as a species and just how little with know about the secrets of the deep. The next journey is technically in the Irish Sea, but going from Bardsey to the Bristol Channel is still facing the Atlantic, before returning to the ocean for the last stretch along the Cornish coast.
I really enjoyed this book about our Western seaboard. Gange’s writing doesn’t feel that you are jumping from one subject to another, rather he has has a way of neatly wrapping the layers of history, natural history and travel up in his prose. It also shows that history and life do happen outside the south-east and London and always has done. It doesn’t feel rushed either, the important thing about this book is the places he passes on his journey. Time spent Life at the pace of a kayak means he can absorb the seascape and mull things over as he bobs about. This book has the best maps I have ever seen in a travel book. Why can’t every travel book have them this well produced? Glad to see some photos in the book, but there are a lot more of his journey here. 4.5 stars
December 8, 2020
(4.5) This was one of the 2020 Wainwright Prize finalists. Having now experienced the entire nature writing shortlist, I stick with my early September pronouncement that it should have won. I was consistently impressed with the intricacy of the interdisciplinary approach. While kayaking down the western coast of the British Isles and Ireland, Gange delved into the folklore, geology, history, local language and wildlife of each region and island group. From the extreme north of Scotland at Muckle Flugga to the southwest tip of Cornwall, he devoted a month to each Atlantic-facing area, often squeezing in expeditions between commitments as a history lecturer at Birmingham.
Gange’s thesis is that the sea has done more to shape Britain and Ireland than we generally recognize, and that to be truly representative history books must ascribe the same importance to coastal communities that they do to major inland cities. Everywhere he goes he meets locals, trawls regional archives and museums, and surveys the art and literature (especially poetry) that a place has produced. Though dense with information, the book is a rollicking travelogue that – in words no less than in the two sections of stunning colour photographs – captures the elation and fear of an intrepid solo journey. He hunkers on snowy cliffs in his sleeping bag and comes face to face with otters, seals and seabirds in his kayak; at the mercy of the weather, he has deep respect for the Atlantic waves’ power.
I enjoyed revisiting places I’ve seen in person (Shetland, the Orkney Islands, Skomer) and getting a taste of others I’ve not been to but would like to go (like the Western Isles and the west coast of Ireland). Gange’s allusive writing reminds me of Tim Dee’s and Adam Nicolson’s, and Madeleine Bunting’s Love of Country is a similar read I also loved.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
Gange’s thesis is that the sea has done more to shape Britain and Ireland than we generally recognize, and that to be truly representative history books must ascribe the same importance to coastal communities that they do to major inland cities. Everywhere he goes he meets locals, trawls regional archives and museums, and surveys the art and literature (especially poetry) that a place has produced. Though dense with information, the book is a rollicking travelogue that – in words no less than in the two sections of stunning colour photographs – captures the elation and fear of an intrepid solo journey. He hunkers on snowy cliffs in his sleeping bag and comes face to face with otters, seals and seabirds in his kayak; at the mercy of the weather, he has deep respect for the Atlantic waves’ power.
I enjoyed revisiting places I’ve seen in person (Shetland, the Orkney Islands, Skomer) and getting a taste of others I’ve not been to but would like to go (like the Western Isles and the west coast of Ireland). Gange’s allusive writing reminds me of Tim Dee’s and Adam Nicolson’s, and Madeleine Bunting’s Love of Country is a similar read I also loved.
Originally published on my blog, Bookish Beck.
July 13, 2021
David Gange is a man on a mission. It is probably best to let him describe that mission himself with a couple of quotes from his preface:
”…the conviction I set out with: that British and Irish histories are usually written inside out, perpetuating the misconception that today’s land-bound geographies have existed forever…the significance of coasts is consistently underestimated, and the potential of small boats as tools to make sense of their histories is rarely explored.”
and, with reference to the structure of the book itself:
”This allows the the narrative to follow a trajectory in which the opening chapters evoke the act of kayaking, establishing sounds, smells, sights and stories of the venerable tradition of travelling at sea level. Only gradually does the balance shift towards historical research, literary criticism and argument, revealing the implications of new perspectives picked up through slow travel.”
Then, on the blog page (https://frayedatlanticedge.wordpress....) that accompanies this book (which is well worth keeping to hand as you read because it includes a lot of photographs amongst other things), Gange goes on to say this about a new book:
”’Being Littoral’ proposes a radical new vision of British and Irish history by viewing past and present from the perspectives of communities whose experience has diverged wildly from the urban centres through which the island group is usually understood. These are the communities of Atlantic coastlines – Shaetlan, Scots, Gaelic, Irish and Welsh – whose existence has been defined by proximity to ocean and semi-detachment from terrestrial networks of cities, roads and rail.”
Clearly, this new work will build on the aims of the book I have just read.
And so we read of a man kayaking down the western edge of the United Kingdom and Ireland. He begins as far north as possible, in Shetland, and ends in Cornwall at the southern tip of the coast. The book is divided into chapters where each chapter covers a month of the year and the section of the coast he travelled in that month. As explained in the quote above, the first few chapters concentrate on the act of kayaking and sights, sounds and smells encountered. For the last 10 years, my holidays have been taken on part of this western coastline (nearly always the Inner or Outer Hebrides), so, for me, there was a sense of recognition for several parts of the journey.
But gradually, the kayaking starts to become a background for a more theoretical, factual analysis and re-interpretation of history. This makes for fascinating reading as Gange takes a fresh look at the importance of the coast and coastal communities in the history of the British Isles.
Overall, this is a fascinating book to read and one that will give you food for thought whether you are visiting one of our major cities that now dominate or one of our “outlying” coastal communities.
”…the conviction I set out with: that British and Irish histories are usually written inside out, perpetuating the misconception that today’s land-bound geographies have existed forever…the significance of coasts is consistently underestimated, and the potential of small boats as tools to make sense of their histories is rarely explored.”
and, with reference to the structure of the book itself:
”This allows the the narrative to follow a trajectory in which the opening chapters evoke the act of kayaking, establishing sounds, smells, sights and stories of the venerable tradition of travelling at sea level. Only gradually does the balance shift towards historical research, literary criticism and argument, revealing the implications of new perspectives picked up through slow travel.”
Then, on the blog page (https://frayedatlanticedge.wordpress....) that accompanies this book (which is well worth keeping to hand as you read because it includes a lot of photographs amongst other things), Gange goes on to say this about a new book:
”’Being Littoral’ proposes a radical new vision of British and Irish history by viewing past and present from the perspectives of communities whose experience has diverged wildly from the urban centres through which the island group is usually understood. These are the communities of Atlantic coastlines – Shaetlan, Scots, Gaelic, Irish and Welsh – whose existence has been defined by proximity to ocean and semi-detachment from terrestrial networks of cities, roads and rail.”
Clearly, this new work will build on the aims of the book I have just read.
And so we read of a man kayaking down the western edge of the United Kingdom and Ireland. He begins as far north as possible, in Shetland, and ends in Cornwall at the southern tip of the coast. The book is divided into chapters where each chapter covers a month of the year and the section of the coast he travelled in that month. As explained in the quote above, the first few chapters concentrate on the act of kayaking and sights, sounds and smells encountered. For the last 10 years, my holidays have been taken on part of this western coastline (nearly always the Inner or Outer Hebrides), so, for me, there was a sense of recognition for several parts of the journey.
But gradually, the kayaking starts to become a background for a more theoretical, factual analysis and re-interpretation of history. This makes for fascinating reading as Gange takes a fresh look at the importance of the coast and coastal communities in the history of the British Isles.
Overall, this is a fascinating book to read and one that will give you food for thought whether you are visiting one of our major cities that now dominate or one of our “outlying” coastal communities.
September 8, 2019
Sounded a really interesting book but I was disappointed. Very repetitive, often stodgy and sometimes just plain dull.
I eventually got to the point that after I had put the book down I didn't want to pick it up again - a clear signal for me to move on to something different!
I eventually got to the point that after I had put the book down I didn't want to pick it up again - a clear signal for me to move on to something different!
September 1, 2019
What a fantastically interesting history, and written against an amazing journey. Having recently travelled a little in some of the areas Gange passes through I found it particularly interesting - but the overall view and insight worth anyone reading. Additionally it is engagingly written and gorgeously clever.
August 4, 2020
I’ve been slowly making my way through some of the books shortlisted for this year’s Wainwright Prize for Nature writing.
Comparable are the two Scottish authors, David Gange and Kathleen Jamie.
I find Gange’s The Frayed Atlantic Edge the better book, so far. It’s a kayak journey from Muckle Flugga on Shetland to Sennen Cove in Cornwall. I’m about halfway through, and have just left him headed from the Mull of Kintyre to Ballycastle.
He spends little time relating his kayaking exploits, and rather chooses to pick bits from the history of the places he passes. For example, as he spends the night at the wild Mull of Kintyre headland he writes on the history of lighthouses on this coastline.
There is some outstanding adventure writing about the Isle of Skye, and it’s Cuillin mountains.
Charles Pilkington (Alpine mountaineer) solemnly requested, of Sgùrr Alasdair’s summit, that each climber who followed that they give the fine views
Such a great quotation. I’ve been on the peak once myself, but now need to return and spend an hour there...or longer..
Pilkington was a Merseyside climber after whim Mount Pilkington in British Columbia is named. Also Sgùrr Thearlaich (‘Charles’s Peak’)
In 1880 he was amongst the pioneers who opened the Cuillin and hence Skye to visitors of all kinds. Previously, the rare visitor had approached by sea from Loch Coruisk. Walter Scott was one such. In 1814 his journal recounts a journey by rowing boat to the bottom of the
which drains Coruisk into the sea, where hundreds of trout and salmon were struggling upwards. He described the
where huge strata of naked rock
The scene was depicted in his poem ‘The Lord of the Isles’ and commissioned by JMW Turner to illustrate. The latter was brave enough not only to visit, but to brave a climb behind it also. After a slip, ‘one of two tufts Of Cuillin grass’ prevented a fatal fall.
It’s evident that Gange favours certain parts of the coastline above others; he is brief and off-hand about Mull for example. Part of my enjoyment so far is that my presences are the same as his.
I’ll report back as he heads south...
The book is at its best when recounting snippets of history often unearthed from his conversations with islanders and coastal dwellers. The passages in which he recounts the literature of the area (forming a group of Atlanticists as he calls them, Atlantic thinkers, east side at least..), and quotes from it, are less interesting - and its a fine line to tred between the two. Some areas come off less well than others. Cornwall, for example, is an almost non-stop rehash of its poets, which is fine, but outside the remit, at least as far as I am concerned, or at least, what he does less well.
I suspect that simply, after such an epic journey, he has more affection for places he writes his own experiences as opposed to relying on others. Bardsey above Cornwall for example, Havera above Mull.
He quotes from Charles Edwardes ‘The Island In The Currents’ of Enlli, off the Llyn peninsula..(Bardsey)
He recounts his interviews with islanders.. the ‘modern sceptic’ he begins, surely doubts the story that 20,000 saints are buried here, but the experience of those who work ‘this preposterous charnel pit’ belies incredulous assumptions.
But overall it’s an inspirational book. There are some wonderfully written passages and many fascinating anecdotes. And I am inspired myself, albeit not by kayak, but with the mountain bike, running shoes, dog and van to go to retrace the journey (by land) and investigate some of these places.
Comparable are the two Scottish authors, David Gange and Kathleen Jamie.
I find Gange’s The Frayed Atlantic Edge the better book, so far. It’s a kayak journey from Muckle Flugga on Shetland to Sennen Cove in Cornwall. I’m about halfway through, and have just left him headed from the Mull of Kintyre to Ballycastle.
He spends little time relating his kayaking exploits, and rather chooses to pick bits from the history of the places he passes. For example, as he spends the night at the wild Mull of Kintyre headland he writes on the history of lighthouses on this coastline.
There is some outstanding adventure writing about the Isle of Skye, and it’s Cuillin mountains.
Charles Pilkington (Alpine mountaineer) solemnly requested, of Sgùrr Alasdair’s summit, that each climber who followed that they give the fine views
at least an hour of (a) misspent life.
Such a great quotation. I’ve been on the peak once myself, but now need to return and spend an hour there...or longer..
Pilkington was a Merseyside climber after whim Mount Pilkington in British Columbia is named. Also Sgùrr Thearlaich (‘Charles’s Peak’)
In 1880 he was amongst the pioneers who opened the Cuillin and hence Skye to visitors of all kinds. Previously, the rare visitor had approached by sea from Loch Coruisk. Walter Scott was one such. In 1814 his journal recounts a journey by rowing boat to the bottom of the
huddling and riotous brook
which drains Coruisk into the sea, where hundreds of trout and salmon were struggling upwards. He described the
exquisite savage scene
where huge strata of naked rock
as bare as the pavements Of Cheapside’ rise ‘so perpendicularly from the water-Edge, that Borrowdale or even Glencoem is a jest to them.
The scene was depicted in his poem ‘The Lord of the Isles’ and commissioned by JMW Turner to illustrate. The latter was brave enough not only to visit, but to brave a climb behind it also. After a slip, ‘one of two tufts Of Cuillin grass’ prevented a fatal fall.
It’s evident that Gange favours certain parts of the coastline above others; he is brief and off-hand about Mull for example. Part of my enjoyment so far is that my presences are the same as his.
I’ll report back as he heads south...
The book is at its best when recounting snippets of history often unearthed from his conversations with islanders and coastal dwellers. The passages in which he recounts the literature of the area (forming a group of Atlanticists as he calls them, Atlantic thinkers, east side at least..), and quotes from it, are less interesting - and its a fine line to tred between the two. Some areas come off less well than others. Cornwall, for example, is an almost non-stop rehash of its poets, which is fine, but outside the remit, at least as far as I am concerned, or at least, what he does less well.
I suspect that simply, after such an epic journey, he has more affection for places he writes his own experiences as opposed to relying on others. Bardsey above Cornwall for example, Havera above Mull.
He quotes from Charles Edwardes ‘The Island In The Currents’ of Enlli, off the Llyn peninsula..(Bardsey)
A slow old man, with much grizzled hair to his head and chin, and the signs of recent breakfast about his mouth, came towards us with a scythe. ‘I am the king,’ he said quietly...and then with a differential little bow, he went to cut grass.
He recounts his interviews with islanders.. the ‘modern sceptic’ he begins, surely doubts the story that 20,000 saints are buried here, but the experience of those who work ‘this preposterous charnel pit’ belies incredulous assumptions.
It is all bones underneath, nothing but bones. I have seen them myself, indeed. Thee were woman’s with hair eighteen inches long, and childs,and mans, in such heaps as you could not believe. And their teeth, oh indeed, I never did see such full mouths of them.
But overall it’s an inspirational book. There are some wonderfully written passages and many fascinating anecdotes. And I am inspired myself, albeit not by kayak, but with the mountain bike, running shoes, dog and van to go to retrace the journey (by land) and investigate some of these places.
December 18, 2020
I'm a big fan of coastal books and quite enjoyed The Salt Path and The Seabird's Cry: The Lives and Loves of the Planet's Great Ocean Voyagers, so I came to the is book with high hopes. It didn't quite meet those, but was a pleasant read.
Essentially this book reads like a series of Countryfile or Coast segments - the author travels along in his kayak admiring the scenery and then tells us about some fascinating local artist, or gives a snippet of local history society etc... The format works better on the TV and I'd recommend dosing on this book rather than trying to get through it in one go.
Essentially this book reads like a series of Countryfile or Coast segments - the author travels along in his kayak admiring the scenery and then tells us about some fascinating local artist, or gives a snippet of local history society etc... The format works better on the TV and I'd recommend dosing on this book rather than trying to get through it in one go.
August 22, 2020
This was interesting and inspiring to read. I've been getting into non-fiction on nature this year and this was very on-brand for me, seeing as I - being a historian myself - could often do with a perspective that is a lot less focussed on the big cities. We need to rethink the way we have written history and we need to cherish the diversity that is often forgotten for want of a "clear and concise overview" of those things that almost always lose all meaning and value when lumped together. I was impressed by Gange's ability to write beautifully while packing in a lot of interesting information. His writing style was really engaging and often gave me the feeling that I was right there next to him in during his turbulent journey. If you're into coasts, the sea and history and literature, you will love this and should definitely pick it up.
April 21, 2020
I really didn’t get into this. I spent the whole book thinking I’m sure I’ll get into it in a minute, as normally I really enjoy this sort of book, but it just didn’t happen. A lot of information but lacked any real engagement. I also found a lot of the pronunciation (Gaelic, place names, geographical elements) and attempts at a Scottish accent (of which each area has a different one in reality) in the audiobook problematic. Disappointing and left wondering if I missed something key.
May 21, 2022
Recent years have seen a growing historiography of what might once have been described as Europe’s Celtic fringes. Barry Cunliffe’s Facing the Ocean: the Atlantic and its Peoples, 800BC - 1500AD, published in 2001, revolutionised the traditional view of the Atlantic-facing coasts of Britain and Europe as backwards looking places, overtaken and overlooked by successive waves of ‘improvement’, cultural development and urbanisation marked by such generic terms as ‘Renaissance’, ‘Enlightenment’ and ‘Agrarian/Industrial Revolution’. Cunliffe and his successors have argued that a strong, vital culture marked by outward looking trading links, language and artistic endeavour continued on the Atlantic edge, largely ignored or patronised by the new urban elites.
In The Frayed Atlantic Edge, David Gange, an historian from Birmingham University, sets out on a voyage along the entirety of the Atlantic-facing coastline of the British Isles, from the northern tip of Shetland to the Seven Stones off the southwest tip of Cornwall. Believing that our perception of landscape, life and culture depends on our physical viewpoint, he makes the entire journey by kayak, looking at the coast and the lives of the people who live there from the very thing that unites them and underpins their culture. It’s a fascinating and persuasively argued book; much more than a simple travelogue, it is a passionate and detailed argument for a new way of seeing the culture and history of our western coasts, and by extension, the British archipelago at large.
In The Frayed Atlantic Edge, David Gange, an historian from Birmingham University, sets out on a voyage along the entirety of the Atlantic-facing coastline of the British Isles, from the northern tip of Shetland to the Seven Stones off the southwest tip of Cornwall. Believing that our perception of landscape, life and culture depends on our physical viewpoint, he makes the entire journey by kayak, looking at the coast and the lives of the people who live there from the very thing that unites them and underpins their culture. It’s a fascinating and persuasively argued book; much more than a simple travelogue, it is a passionate and detailed argument for a new way of seeing the culture and history of our western coasts, and by extension, the British archipelago at large.
May 3, 2022
I struggled to concentrate through The Frayed Atlantic Edge and found myself skipping paragraphs, though that’s not a reflection of this (truly informative and brilliant) history of our Atlantic coastline, and more of a reflection that this wasn’t the nature/travel book I was expecting. It’s 90% history of ancient poets and shipbuilding methods… and only about 10% of the authors incredible kayak journey from Scotland to Cornwall. Though reading about the disputed Irish waters and what the likes of big corporations such as Shell have done made me so angry.
Recently I also attempted to read To the Island of Tides: A Journey to Lindisfarne by Alistair Moffat for the same reason as The Frayed Atlantic Edge. The cover and blurb made me think it was nature/travel writing but it was definitely in depth historical non-fiction.
Recently I also attempted to read To the Island of Tides: A Journey to Lindisfarne by Alistair Moffat for the same reason as The Frayed Atlantic Edge. The cover and blurb made me think it was nature/travel writing but it was definitely in depth historical non-fiction.
August 30, 2021
It took me many attempts and returns to this book to finish it. There’s very little in the way of history beyond that of the arts and literature. Geology is skimmed over, and events are few and far between, in the historical sense. There is much spoken of lost languages and cultures, but so many references to poets and poetry that it’s easy to just feel bogged down by it. Too long, too self-indulgent, and not for me. I definitely wouldn’t put it in the nature-writing category (and I bought this on the strength of it being in the Wainwright Prize shortlist).
June 23, 2020
Arguing that history is marginalising coastal communities, The Frayed Atlantic Edge is as much audacious travelogue as it is a powerful historical counter-narrative. See my full review at https://inquisitivebiologist.com/2019...
December 6, 2020
Some parts of this book I completely got lost about what he was talking about to be honest.
Not what I thought it was going to be.
More historical and speaks a lot about poetry, not really about the journey itself
Not what I thought it was going to be.
More historical and speaks a lot about poetry, not really about the journey itself
October 24, 2020
Not finished, just not my thing. So he's paddling around, and... Nothing?
December 1, 2020
David Gange is one really bright, thoughtful, and articulate scholar. I’m not really sure how to rate this book for that very reason. I believe my inability to understand certain parts is mine alone and is not really a flaw in his work.
This book is basically a travelogue, but it is much more than that. Gange undertakes a trip of a lifetime --- visiting around various Atlantic coastal settings of the British isles over the course of a year. Kayaking and spending time in each local community over a period of two weeks or so, he then wrote each section of the book following said trip. His travels included Shetland, Orkney, Scottish western isles and coast, as well as the western coasts of Ireland, Wales and English Cornwall.
Gange’s travels are interesting from just the physical aspect of travel. I have never been in a kayak, much less one in such volatile and dangerous seas. This is only a small aspect of this book, however. Gange’s true purpose, as it evolves over the course of his travels, is to highlight deficiencies in history, geography, politics, and art as it relates to our “modern” perspectives of coastal communities. He shows, in increasing complexity and conviction, that we are missing something from our current perspective. He writes:
“While travelling, I’d seen repeatedly that traditional narratives of British and Irish history cannot possibly account for the composition of these coastlines. Those interpretations aren't’ just landlocked but largely London-locked, imposing shapes on the past that explain how the metropolis became the place it is” (340)
Gange comes to the conclusion that it’s all wrong, and that one cannot understand coastal communities from a land-locked perspective; in fact, he feels that our world is poorer in both policy and practicality for not embracing a more local and organic approach.
A trained historian, some of what Gange suggests is jarring and confusing for someone like me, an older person who loves history but is not up-to-date in scholarly approaches; nevertheless, his assertions are compelling. For example, Gange postulates:
...our historical narratives are not just incomplete stories about the British and Irish islands, they are ethically unsuited to today’s world. The eradication from our historical vocabularies of large-scale labels such as Renaissance, Enlightenment and Modernity as well as agricultural and industrial revolutions, can allow us to begin to reframe our histories in less urban and goal-oriented ways. In their place can be built narratives that show the frictions: the geographical unevenness, the pain and the visceral resistance to two centuries of rapid change that were once envisaged as heroic progress but are recognised as more problematic with every year that passes…” (340-341)
I’m not sure I’m one for eradicating labels, but I can see his point.
This book is a difficult one to review or rate because of my own “dumb Yank” shortcomings in the geography, culture, and literature of these locales. This book was hard to understand at times for that reason. I’m glad I persevered because there is much to think about and ponder.
This book reminded me of Alexander Langlands’ "Cræft: An Inquiry Into the Origins and True Meaning of Traditional Crafts," another great work.
Now, I’ve got to learn how to kayak! :)
This book is basically a travelogue, but it is much more than that. Gange undertakes a trip of a lifetime --- visiting around various Atlantic coastal settings of the British isles over the course of a year. Kayaking and spending time in each local community over a period of two weeks or so, he then wrote each section of the book following said trip. His travels included Shetland, Orkney, Scottish western isles and coast, as well as the western coasts of Ireland, Wales and English Cornwall.
Gange’s travels are interesting from just the physical aspect of travel. I have never been in a kayak, much less one in such volatile and dangerous seas. This is only a small aspect of this book, however. Gange’s true purpose, as it evolves over the course of his travels, is to highlight deficiencies in history, geography, politics, and art as it relates to our “modern” perspectives of coastal communities. He shows, in increasing complexity and conviction, that we are missing something from our current perspective. He writes:
“While travelling, I’d seen repeatedly that traditional narratives of British and Irish history cannot possibly account for the composition of these coastlines. Those interpretations aren't’ just landlocked but largely London-locked, imposing shapes on the past that explain how the metropolis became the place it is” (340)
Gange comes to the conclusion that it’s all wrong, and that one cannot understand coastal communities from a land-locked perspective; in fact, he feels that our world is poorer in both policy and practicality for not embracing a more local and organic approach.
A trained historian, some of what Gange suggests is jarring and confusing for someone like me, an older person who loves history but is not up-to-date in scholarly approaches; nevertheless, his assertions are compelling. For example, Gange postulates:
...our historical narratives are not just incomplete stories about the British and Irish islands, they are ethically unsuited to today’s world. The eradication from our historical vocabularies of large-scale labels such as Renaissance, Enlightenment and Modernity as well as agricultural and industrial revolutions, can allow us to begin to reframe our histories in less urban and goal-oriented ways. In their place can be built narratives that show the frictions: the geographical unevenness, the pain and the visceral resistance to two centuries of rapid change that were once envisaged as heroic progress but are recognised as more problematic with every year that passes…” (340-341)
I’m not sure I’m one for eradicating labels, but I can see his point.
This book is a difficult one to review or rate because of my own “dumb Yank” shortcomings in the geography, culture, and literature of these locales. This book was hard to understand at times for that reason. I’m glad I persevered because there is much to think about and ponder.
This book reminded me of Alexander Langlands’ "Cræft: An Inquiry Into the Origins and True Meaning of Traditional Crafts," another great work.
Now, I’ve got to learn how to kayak! :)
July 4, 2020
This book has encouraged my husband and I to do something we haven't done for some years. To sit down together and read it aloud. What a joy it's been on so many levels. We find ourselves enthralled and inspired to look things up; to discuss a particular piece of poetry or an historical fact. We refer often to the accompanying website which compliments the reading experience with blog posts from David Gange's travels and his stunning photography. His passion for history, wildlife, coastal living, sea-kayaking and his engaging and humorous writing style has kept us entertained for many hours already, and we're only part way through. There will also definitely be some trips of our own to come, inspired by his writing.
May 30, 2021
I've read this book about a man, his small boat, and the Northwest shores of the British Isles so many times - but with many different titles and authors. All men, it seems: Adam Nicholson (The Sea Room), Philip Marsden ("The Summer Isles"), etc. Gange is the best of the bunch so far: thoughtful and carefully informed by research, but impressionistic and flowing enough to be narratively interesting.
February 28, 2021
Great if you really care about the communities along the west coast of Britain, if you don’t you might struggle
September 14, 2021
Great descriptions of this wonderful coast.
December 11, 2024
A 'celebration of locality and littleness, against the homogeneity of nation' - a super interesting read, with some really immersive descriptions of land/seascape and a hopeful vibe for the future of small, coastal Atlantic communities in the face of urbanisation, overtourism and habitat loss. At times pretty dense and complicated, and took me a very long time to finish (like 3 years lol), hence 4 stars and not 5. Loved it though, and will be revisiting!
August 14, 2020
The best book I've read all year! The way he integrates poetry, nature/writing, travelogue and history to tell the story of Britain from the sadly overlooked costal point of view is just brilliant. Cannot recommend highly enough. Anyone interested in the relationship between human and nature needs to read!
September 13, 2024
Amazing book. So much to think about, connected with early history and the worldview of modern culture. Using beautiful words. It was a slow read, I savored every minute.
March 23, 2021
This was such a beautiful read. The author is so descriptive and evocative, I felt like I have visited all of these coastlines. I love how he combined bits of culture and history as well, so I learned a lot about places like Shetland I never knew before. I definitely want to start kayaking now.
November 11, 2019
An absolutely fantastic book, full of passion and interest for the history of coastlines and lives around Britain. Being able to follow Gange around the Atlantic coastline of Britain gave me such a deep longing to be out there in the sea that my only solace was how well written his account was I could almost imagine myself there with him. His gorgeous photography added so much to the already richly gorgeous scenes he writes. It's almost not fair how skilled this man is. Full of anecdotes of his own, meeting the locals of the towns he visits as well as historical stories and poetry you can feel his passion for these places and their rich history that's been ignored by the majority of historians writing about Britain.. It's an interesting read even if you haven't got a deep passion for history (like me) just for the travel writing.
December 12, 2021
Well, I persevered but I had to give this one up.
This is David Gange: I kayaked in some choppy water, I stopped, got out, looked at some rocks, slept in a really thick sleeping bag, woke to some sea birds getting pissy with me, then left. I kayaked in still water, stopped, got out, mooched about, pondered some obscure poetry which I shall now quote to you in large swathes, I got back in the boat. I kayaked in mildly churning water, stopped, got out, discussed some random piece of Scottish history in a really dry, boring manner, then got back in the boat. ....................
On and on, chapter after chapter.
No, Gange. Just no. Get back in your kayak and paddle off to learn how to be interesting!
This is David Gange: I kayaked in some choppy water, I stopped, got out, looked at some rocks, slept in a really thick sleeping bag, woke to some sea birds getting pissy with me, then left. I kayaked in still water, stopped, got out, mooched about, pondered some obscure poetry which I shall now quote to you in large swathes, I got back in the boat. I kayaked in mildly churning water, stopped, got out, discussed some random piece of Scottish history in a really dry, boring manner, then got back in the boat. ....................
On and on, chapter after chapter.
No, Gange. Just no. Get back in your kayak and paddle off to learn how to be interesting!
July 3, 2020
A brilliant, innovative, enthralling book!
[Here's my blog-review, cross-posted from stevementz.com] The final paragraphs of David Gange’s glorious historian’s adventure, The Frayed Atlantic Edge, arrive with startling clarity. We must change the way we think about nature, the sea, and “Romanticism.” Gange distinguishes his immersive practice from naive or sentimental forms of Romanticist thinking:
It isn’t romanticism that needs to be cleared from perspectives on these places, but the assumption that these communities somehow belong to the past, not the future, and are merely hazy places to escape to.
In rejecting Romanticist nostalgia, Gange asks instead for a future-oriented engagement with oceanic edges and humans that make their lives across watery borders:
…the journey had shown me that a romanticism which delves into the natures of humans and their fellow species, finding wonder while rooted in the real, might not be so naive after all.
That’s right, I thought to myself as I closed the book last night. That’s exactly right. The practice of immersive contact with humans and nonhumans, watery and windy spaces, generates in this book what we might call a material romanticism that connects the “wonder” with the “real.”
Thinking about that insight this morning has me recalling the risks and hazards of immersion, from physical danger to sentimental stories. Gange’s journey by kayak along the Atlantic coasts of Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall ended with him fleeing the tourist mecca of St. Ives to spend a landless night keeping his kayak afloat at the Seven Stones, which appeared to his waterbound perspective as “less like a wall in front of waves and more like a knife blade thrust into ocean.” This starkly Romantic moment, in which the solitary boatsman holds himself upright all night through the painful exertions of tired arms, anticipates the book’s final turn toward a new romanticism of material connections and future orientations in the final pages.
Bruno Latour wrote several years ago that the “successor to the sublime is under construction” during our Anthropocene era. That project of assemblage or re-making seems to me the urgent task of our day. To replace the ego-dwarfing separations of Wordsworth and Shelley with something smaller, harder, more abrasive, directly material, and more obliquely emotional may enable a new poetics of the encounter for Anthropocene days.
This morning’s view
[Note to self: extended quarantine might be a good time to sketch that long-deferred history of the literary sublime, from Longinus to Shakespeare & Milton, Melville & Dickinson, Thomas Pynchon & Toni Morrison… Sounds a bit like boring lit crit, as I churn out the list, but maybe…]
But now, before the Zooms of the day, a few thoughts on The Frayed Atlantic Edge, its insights and its joys.
Structure seems so essential: Gange’s book constructs itself through eleven mostly-solo journeys by kayak along the Atlantic shoreline from Shetland (July) to Cornwall (the following July). Each adventure combines paddling with reading, plus inspiring descriptions of local poets and communities. A few touchstones emerge along the rocky shorelines.
“If timelessness exists anywhere on earth, it is not in sight of the sea,” Gange writes while off the Orkney coast. Dynamism and physical experiences of change typify these violent spaces.
Another important argument asks us to re-orient the history of the British Isles away from inland cities and toward ocean-facing coasts. Drawing on the inspirational work of Barry Cunliffe, Gange emphasizes the ancient patterns of exchange that have dominated seaboard life since the Mesolithic period. He speculates that the dominance of collective agriculture and urban population centers have produced a series of myths through which “‘we Mesopotamians’ have constructed the separation of people and nature.” Against that fundamental agricultural split — on which point see also Tim Morton’s eco-theory and James Scott’s pre-history — Gange hazards that “Mesolithic seafarers … [may be] the only humans in the whole of time and space who are not the ‘anthro’ in Anthropocene.”
At the core of this book’s coast-centric vision is a rejection of what Gange calls the “thalassophobia” of modernity, especially urban modernity. The villain in Gange’s history is clearly the railroad, which re-orients local travel and commerce inland rather than along the crooked and inviting shoreline. To write ocean history, he suggests, is to write against grand narratives of conquering nature and toward what Rachel Carson calls a “sea ethic.”
I’ve been reading this book during prolonged swim-less quarantine. The local pools are all closed, and an especially chilly April and early May has kept me out of Long Island Sound’s gray-green embrace. Soon — maybe this weekend? — I’ll start back in with my daily high tide swims. Immersion will help me organize my summer, which was supposed to include swim trips to the Irish Sea among other places, into a more local swim-write-sleep-repeat pattern. I think a lot about the offshore perspective afforded by the blue humanities and its dream of immersion. Reading The Frayed Atlantic Edge during these dry quarantine weeks recalls the edge-feelings that writing at its best can pry out from subconscious and submarine depths, and the fraying pressure of material experience. Gange’s willingness to embody his academic practice, and also his precise, wistful, evocative prose provides a thrillingly immersive model in the wake of which many of us are likely to be paddling more a long time.
[Here's my blog-review, cross-posted from stevementz.com] The final paragraphs of David Gange’s glorious historian’s adventure, The Frayed Atlantic Edge, arrive with startling clarity. We must change the way we think about nature, the sea, and “Romanticism.” Gange distinguishes his immersive practice from naive or sentimental forms of Romanticist thinking:
It isn’t romanticism that needs to be cleared from perspectives on these places, but the assumption that these communities somehow belong to the past, not the future, and are merely hazy places to escape to.
In rejecting Romanticist nostalgia, Gange asks instead for a future-oriented engagement with oceanic edges and humans that make their lives across watery borders:
…the journey had shown me that a romanticism which delves into the natures of humans and their fellow species, finding wonder while rooted in the real, might not be so naive after all.
That’s right, I thought to myself as I closed the book last night. That’s exactly right. The practice of immersive contact with humans and nonhumans, watery and windy spaces, generates in this book what we might call a material romanticism that connects the “wonder” with the “real.”
Thinking about that insight this morning has me recalling the risks and hazards of immersion, from physical danger to sentimental stories. Gange’s journey by kayak along the Atlantic coasts of Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Cornwall ended with him fleeing the tourist mecca of St. Ives to spend a landless night keeping his kayak afloat at the Seven Stones, which appeared to his waterbound perspective as “less like a wall in front of waves and more like a knife blade thrust into ocean.” This starkly Romantic moment, in which the solitary boatsman holds himself upright all night through the painful exertions of tired arms, anticipates the book’s final turn toward a new romanticism of material connections and future orientations in the final pages.
Bruno Latour wrote several years ago that the “successor to the sublime is under construction” during our Anthropocene era. That project of assemblage or re-making seems to me the urgent task of our day. To replace the ego-dwarfing separations of Wordsworth and Shelley with something smaller, harder, more abrasive, directly material, and more obliquely emotional may enable a new poetics of the encounter for Anthropocene days.
This morning’s view
[Note to self: extended quarantine might be a good time to sketch that long-deferred history of the literary sublime, from Longinus to Shakespeare & Milton, Melville & Dickinson, Thomas Pynchon & Toni Morrison… Sounds a bit like boring lit crit, as I churn out the list, but maybe…]
But now, before the Zooms of the day, a few thoughts on The Frayed Atlantic Edge, its insights and its joys.
Structure seems so essential: Gange’s book constructs itself through eleven mostly-solo journeys by kayak along the Atlantic shoreline from Shetland (July) to Cornwall (the following July). Each adventure combines paddling with reading, plus inspiring descriptions of local poets and communities. A few touchstones emerge along the rocky shorelines.
“If timelessness exists anywhere on earth, it is not in sight of the sea,” Gange writes while off the Orkney coast. Dynamism and physical experiences of change typify these violent spaces.
Another important argument asks us to re-orient the history of the British Isles away from inland cities and toward ocean-facing coasts. Drawing on the inspirational work of Barry Cunliffe, Gange emphasizes the ancient patterns of exchange that have dominated seaboard life since the Mesolithic period. He speculates that the dominance of collective agriculture and urban population centers have produced a series of myths through which “‘we Mesopotamians’ have constructed the separation of people and nature.” Against that fundamental agricultural split — on which point see also Tim Morton’s eco-theory and James Scott’s pre-history — Gange hazards that “Mesolithic seafarers … [may be] the only humans in the whole of time and space who are not the ‘anthro’ in Anthropocene.”
At the core of this book’s coast-centric vision is a rejection of what Gange calls the “thalassophobia” of modernity, especially urban modernity. The villain in Gange’s history is clearly the railroad, which re-orients local travel and commerce inland rather than along the crooked and inviting shoreline. To write ocean history, he suggests, is to write against grand narratives of conquering nature and toward what Rachel Carson calls a “sea ethic.”
I’ve been reading this book during prolonged swim-less quarantine. The local pools are all closed, and an especially chilly April and early May has kept me out of Long Island Sound’s gray-green embrace. Soon — maybe this weekend? — I’ll start back in with my daily high tide swims. Immersion will help me organize my summer, which was supposed to include swim trips to the Irish Sea among other places, into a more local swim-write-sleep-repeat pattern. I think a lot about the offshore perspective afforded by the blue humanities and its dream of immersion. Reading The Frayed Atlantic Edge during these dry quarantine weeks recalls the edge-feelings that writing at its best can pry out from subconscious and submarine depths, and the fraying pressure of material experience. Gange’s willingness to embody his academic practice, and also his precise, wistful, evocative prose provides a thrillingly immersive model in the wake of which many of us are likely to be paddling more a long time.
November 7, 2019
An extraordinary book. A gorgeously written physical and intellectual journey through the geography and culture of the Atlantic coasts of Britain and Ireland. I found myself researching things read on seemingly every page, and made many connections to the people and places mentioned via Twitter. This book has been a great inspiration to me, here on the other Atlantic seaside.
February 16, 2020
A meaningful, thought-provoking pleasure. Took me forever to read because I had to look up photos of all the places he described, add the many authors and poets and artists he describes to my reading list, and take notes on ideas inspired by his multi-faceted observations. As someone enamored with the Pacific Coast, it was a joy to revel in someone’s love of another ocean.
April 28, 2020
This book is exquisite. A travelogue; a diary; a social history; and poetic. Wonderfully written, you can taste the sea spray, feel the waves and undertows, and revel in the descriptive passages. I can't wait to read it again and to get stuck into some of the books referenced.
If you don't understand what makes the Celts different read this.
If you don't understand what makes the Celts different read this.
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