Whether it's memories of childhood holidays or exotic fantasies of faraway places, a sea and its coast is the most evocative of landscapes. This is a unique collection of the finest, new writing from this water-bound nation of ours. Inside are accounts of adventures and encounters, short stories that will haunt and inspire. It is a literary tribute to the last frontier - the ocean.
A splendid collection of short stories, essays, poems, adventures, experiences and travel writing – all pertaining to the sea. This anthology, edited by Sarah Brown, features a mix of contributors – from popular authors to professional surfers, yachting teams to navy officers, amateur sailors to cross Atlantic swimmers – an assorted mix of writers and writings.
A myriad of emotions run through each of the contributions. My personal favorite from the collection was Libby Purves’ “Journey To The Sea” – in addition to providing the title of the book, this delightful story features a terminally ill patient who takes to swimming to stay active. The crux of the story is her goal to “swim from Harwich to Holland” – a 185 km or 100 nautical miles distance in the sea, which she attempts to do the equivalent of in a swimming pool – that is, 7,400 lengths of the pool. She even marks her distances on a map – plotting where in the world she would be if that particular mile was in the sea instead of the pool. In contrast to Purves’ story of making the most of life, is Joanne Harris’ “Faith And Hope Fly South” – a poignant tale of the inhabitants of an old age home reminiscing about family holidays when their children were young, and how those very children are travelling the world now, leaving their parents behind in a facility. Harris touches on themes of memories and imagination, with the residents relying on travel brochures and magazines to “travel the world” from the confines of their home. A far cry from this touching story is Drew Kampion’s hilarious account of mistaking Bruce Springsteen for Bob Dylan in “Don Redondo Goes Surfing”, and Sarah Whiteley’s “The Naiad” covers similar ground in narrating her experiences as a professional surfer. Peter Hill sheds light on the lives and duties of lighthouse keepers, and all the lessons he learnt on the job in his aptly titled piece, “The Wisdom Of The Lighthouse Keepers”. Gervase Phinn brings to us “Kyle”, a child who does not have much of formal education since his family travels a lot, but displays tremendous intelligence on account of travelling and experiencing and learning from the world firsthand. This was a brilliant account of how learning needs to happen outside the confines of a classroom as well.
From swimming in Greece to holidaying on the beach in France, from fishing in New York and Thailand to surfing in Ireland and Hawaii, from gripping accounts of real adventures to inspirational short stories, from the calmness of the sea that relaxes the soul, to being battered and beaten by it’s unimaginable power – the sea is something that binds us wherever we might be in the world. As Mary Loudon describes in “Contemplating Ithaca”, we are but “tiny dots of human beings in the magnificent wilderness”. If you have ever lived near the sea, engaged in any water sports, love travelling to places where the sea is, or reading about the experiences of others who have, you will love this book. Being a mix of fiction and non-fiction, featuring professional authors and professional athletes and just about everything in between, there is something here for everyone. A treasure trove of witty recollections, adventurous journeys, entertaining and evocative writing, “Journey to The Sea” is a wonderful collection of writings about our water planet.
I picked this up at a bookswap. It was OK for dipping into between other things. My favourite story by far was Allan Weisbecker's The Calling, a short, sharp piece about commercial fishermen. I wondered what else he might have written and found from his website that he now seems to be obsessed with loony conspiracy theories, and his writing consists of rambling blog posts. Oh well.