La città che dimenticò di respirare

by Kenneth J. Harvey, Alessandra Montrucchio (translator)

È accaduto qualcosa, a Bareneed. Joseph ha deciso di tornarvi per passare le vacanze con la figlia Robin e sanare le ferite del recente divorzio, ma i luoghi della sua infanzia non sono piú gli stessi. La bambina ha un gran talento nel disegnare. E i suoi disegni sono premonitori di strani eventi. C'è chi ha visto un calamaro gigante, chi pesca uno squalo albino, chi trova sulla spiaggia i corpi perfettamente preservati di persone scomparse nell'oceano da lungo tempo. E una misteriosa epidemia colpisce gli abitanti, facendo loro dimenticare quel gesto semplice e invisibile che permette la vita: il respiro. Solo chi sa ancora ascoltare i sussurri delle leggende e la voce del passato avverte il disegno che si va compiendo, bambini e anziani dal cuore spalancato a ogni immaginazione. E in un crescendo di suspense la Natura rivelerà agli uomini che l'hanno tradita il suo volto più oscuro e ancestrale.

Genres: Horror, Fiction, Fantasy, Mystery, Thriller, Unfinished, Gothic

531 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2003

About the author

International bestselling author Kenneth J. Harvey's books are published in Canada, the US, the UK, Russia, Germany, China, Japan, Australia, South Africa, New Zealand, Italy, Sweden, the Netherlands, Denmark and France. He has won the Rogers Writers' Trust Fiction Prize, the Thomas Raddall Atlantic Fiction Award, the Winterset Award, Italy's Libro Del Mare, and has been nominated for the Books in Canada First Novel Award, the International IMPAC Dublin Literary Award, and twice for both the Giller Prize and the Commonwealth Writers Prize. His editorials have appeared on CBC Radio, in The Times (London) and in most major Canadian newspapers, including The Globe & Mail, National Post, Ottawa Citizen, Telegraph Journal, Vancouver Sun, Toronto Star and Halifax Daily News. Harvey sits on the board of directors of the Ottawa International Writers Festival.

Reviews

[Janet · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book was really bad - I am still amazed that I wasted so much time reading all 471 pages because it was pretty horrible from the start. Admittedly there were long, boring, repetitive stretches that I scanned as quickly as possible. There is so much wrong with this book .... where to begin - did I mention it was long, boring and repetitive. How it could be so long and still not develop any story whatsoever - or provide any cohesive history of the town and its people - or fully develop a single character - it has got to be an almost impossible feat for an author. Some people got the "breathing disorder" and then some of them recovered. And some people got sick but not because of the breathing disorder - why? - wasn't the breathing disorder enough of a calamity? Oh yeah, most of the non-breathing disorder sick people got better too. And then there were some dead people wandering around acting weird - and possibly a woman who was dead or alive but who cares which or why because she didn't seem to fit into the "main" story at all. So, just don't read it or you'll start hyperventilating wondering why anyone got the breathing disorder at all because what does that have to do with a tidal wave anyway?

[Miss_otis · Rating 3 out of 5]

In this book, Joseph and his daughter Robin go on vacation in a small Newfoundland village, and naturally, strange things start happening: there’s an epidemic that causes people to forget how to breathe, coupled with drastic changes in behaviours, centuries-old corpses are being spit up from the sea, looking as if they drowned only yesterday, mythical or long-gone sea creatures start appearing (though some can only been seen by a few) and of course, ghosts.

This is a nicely atmospheric book, but, though I liked it, it suffers from Not Being Creepy Enough, in my opinion. Then again, I’m not entirely certain that the writer meant for it to be horror so much as something more like urban fantasy. The characters are all very well drawn - the villagers mostly all have a touch of eccentricity, without screaming "Look how eccentric I am!", which is always a danger when writing quirky characters.

The writing style is clear and concise, but still fairly complex, and I felt the bits where the villagers and Joseph start experiencing behaviour changes were creepier than the supernatural bits, but that’s fairly typical for me: the possibilites of human behaviour are scarier to me than weirdness. So other people may find it much creepier than I did.

[Allison · Rating 5 out of 5]

I could barely put this book down, it has everything I love: ghosts, moodiness, mystery, great characters and setting. And monsters! The writing was fantastic and gripping and was not at all cheesy. Often in stories involving ghosts, monsters, etc there is a lame cop-out ending but not here. Highly, highly recommended!

[Jill · Rating 3 out of 5]

Eastern Canada kinda scares me.
Eight or so years ago, a friend and I drove from Montreal to St John, New Brunswick. It's a nice drive -- lots of trees, some solid vistas -- but there's a stretch of about 100km that has no exits with gas. I mean, this was my first real driver's-seat roadtrip: I was looking for big service stations, and I'm sure there were little unadvertised gas stations everywhere. But as far as I was concerned back then, this was a deadzone. I breathed a little easier when we saw a sign advertising a Tim Hortons a few kilometres on -- but that unsettled fear of the unknown, the undiscovered, sits with me every time someone mentions the Maritimes.

Kenneth J. Harvey, in this book, captures all of that: the fear, the uncertainty, the understandable resistance to modern life, the possibility that there's something out there that you can't quite explain -- but that the residents, in their small seatown way, may know just fine.

The Town That Forgot How to Breathe plays at Lovecraft, via smalltown Newfoundland. This is a traditional ghost story (lanterns hung on the Victorian novels one character adores), complete with creepy children and old ladies, psychics and possession, haunted houses and isolation. Family and community, of course, are the only way out -- but the journey there takes some pretty twisted turns. Sea monsters and obsessions and hallucinations -- coupled with the ocean vomiting up long dead but perfectly preserved corpses -- and ah, there's our H. P.!

Now: would this be a horror story without the cover (brilliantly embossed, incidentally, with a splash of clear 'water')? As a testament to the power of graphic design -- I don't think so. Had the image been of a still lake, you could read it as a semi-surreal account of Maritime life railing against modernization. As with so much, the effect you'll get from this book is dependent on you.

Ultimately, what matters most is that Harvey is an incredible stylist. The three of his books I've read differ immensely from each other, and each have their own distinct world within them. He's not a favourite author of mine, admittedly, but I recognize and respect skill and talent where I see it. Though there's an omniscient narrator keeping the story together at the seams, stylistically and narratively, each character's own particular worldview bleeds through -- sometimes quite brilliantly. Specifically: when Joseph begins to lose his mind, coming down from his prescription drug high, I legitimately felt like I was losing it alongside him. It takes a remarkable writer to pull that off -- and Harvey went from that to cheerful child voice in a moment. Bravo.

The Town That Forgot How to Breathe could have been [much] shorter and less redundant; could have used fewer characters; could have been creepier. It didn't need all the Newfoundland accenting or the repetition without payoff, and I would have appreciated a bit more exploration of the major themes closer to the end. But it was unsettling, and engaging, and at times even insightful -- and while I have no plans to head back to the Maritimes anytime soon, I've got a new appreciation for that stretch of quiet highway.

[Leaf Grabenstetter · Rating 2 out of 5]

Kenneth J. Harvey dislikes modern things, like electricity and baseball caps and the enlightenment and women leaving loveless marriages they're unhappy in. He wrote a book that is basically a screed against these things. So impassioned is he that he barely pauses in his preaching to develop character personalities or explain why the army has brought enormous machinery to a tiny fishing village or what exactly they're doing with it. What budget funded that project? Disaster relief?

The book has its moments. I like nautical lore and folksongs, and only wish that more had actually been written out. Some of the characters were well developed and likeable, Ms. Larecy and Tom Quiltey and Doc Thompson, but the Blackwood family (Joseph, Kim, and Robin anyway) read like the R. A. Salvatore characters in FaeryTale-- unbelievable. Occasionally Harvey forgets himself and writes a passage that's beautiful just for what it is--the scenery, the imagery, the actions supplying subtle character development (Doug Blackwood most notably, especially in the sequence where he's carving the toy whale. Actually found myself sinking into the book then. Or Thompson in his interactions with his cat Agatha.) I don't regret reading this book, I just wish more of it had been like that. Less stress on an overarching plot, a "message", and more focus on people in a dying fishing villiage trying to hold their lives together. That's really where the book shines.

If you're the sort of reader that can ignore an author's hammered-in message, you'll probably engage with this book more than I did. Despite the implications in the cover blurb, this really isn't "gothic" or "horror" or anything like Lovecraft. It's more like a smalltown pastiche with ghosts thrown in.

[Vittorio Ducoli · Rating 1 out of 5]

Il volume paradigmatico della collana che dimenticò le sue radici

Giunto ormai sulla soglia dei sessant’anni, ho fisiologicamente perso molte delle certezze della vita, acquisendo quel filo di cinismo e di scetticismo che è giusto avere alla mia età. Parallelamente ho però acquisito alcune altre certezze, distillate dall’esperienza di vita accumulata. In campo librario una di queste certezze è: MAI acquistare un libro che riporti, in fascetta o nella copertina, estratti di recensioni, tratti da quotidiani e riviste (in particolar modo se anglosassoni) oppure di altri scrittori, che descrivono l’opera come un capolavoro. Si può essere pressoché certi che quel libro sia, come si dice a Roma, una sòla: un buon libro non ha bisogno di attirare il lettore tramite ammiccanti giudizi preconfezionati, che in genere tra l’altro sono estratti ad hoc da critiche molto più articolate. Questa tecnica di marketing, banale e scontata, è però sempre più diffusa, a testimonianza da un lato della pochezza creativa delle case editrici e dall’altro della stupefacente propensione ad abboccare del pubblico; così le nostre librerie pullulano di scintillanti copertine sulle quali il Daily Telegraph, il Washington Post o il New Yorker ci informano che abbiamo per le mani la storia più affascinante degli ultimi cinquanta anni o l’opera del nuovo James Joyce.
Purtroppo mi rendo conto di aver maturato questa certezza solo negli ultimi anni: mi è capitato così di leggere un libro acquistato una dozzina di anni fa, quando non ero già più un ingenuo ragazzino alla scoperta del misterioso mondo della letteratura, ma evidentemente non avevo ancora elaborato appieno un adeguato codice di selezione dei miei acquisti librari. Questo libro è La città che dimenticò di respirare, dell’autore canadese Kenneth J. Harvey.
Al momento della sua riesumazione dalla mia biblioteca per iniziarne la lettura mi sono stupito non poco di averlo a suo tempo acquistato, non solo perché in copertina riporta in bella evidenza il seguente giudizio di J.M. Coetzee – Premio Nobel (da notare la necessità di specificare l'onorificenza massima): «Una storia misteriosa e avvincente, l’opera di un’immaginazione originale stregata e bizzarra» e nel risguardo analoghe marchette di Joseph O’Connor, The Daily Mail e Timothy Findley, ma anche e soprattutto perché il libro presentava una serie di altri indizi che avrebbero dovuto farmi riflettere. Innanzitutto La città che dimenticò di respirare è un romanzo contemporaneo, edito per la prima volta nel 2003, ed in genere io diffido istintivamente della letteratura contemporanea, che ritengo – come ho più volte affermato – una forma espressiva ormai decaduta e asservita quasi totalmente a logiche di mercato. Inoltre è edito da Einaudi nella collana Stile libero, che considero la quintessenza della decadenza della gloriosa casa editrice, una collana nata appunto dalla necessità di assecondare le tendenze di mercato, di far diventare, come dice il suo inquietante motto, libro tutto ciò che libro non è. Il mio è sicuramente un giudizio brutale, e sono cosciente che nella collana si possano reperire anche esempi di buona letteratura contemporanea, ma l’essenza del progetto che sta dietro Stile libero resta a mio avviso il mero adeguamento al mercato di una casa editrice che è stata un pezzo importante della cultura di questo Paese, e il passaggio da Vittorini, Pavese e Calvino a Repetti esemplifica da solo l’entità della caduta.
Infine la copertina, che non solo riporta come detto la perla di Coetzee, ma è costruita, come tutte quelle della collana, rinnegando l’eleganza formale che caratterizzava Einaudi, con il preciso intento, a mio avviso, di far dimenticare al potenziale acquirente una immagine editoriale che per i geni dell’industria culturale nell’età di Berlusconi era probabilmente troppo seriosa.
Nonostante questi pregiudizi mi sono messo comunque di buzzo buono a leggere questo romanzo, piuttosto corposo con le sue oltre cinquecento pagine, sperando che fossero smentiti e che le roboanti attestazioni della copertina contenessero un minimo di verità. Non è stato così.
La città che dimenticò di respirare è ambientato a Bareneed, una piccolissima località di pesca sull’isola di Terranova (Newfoundland), costa atlantica del Canada, luoghi di cui l’autore è originario.
La storia che narra è complessa e densa di personaggi, e non è facile riassumerla, sia perché il romanzo può essere classificato come un thriller venato di elementi horror, e quindi chi volesse leggerlo ha il diritto di non essere troppo informato in anticipo sugli sviluppi della trama, sia perché si tratta di una storia confusa, nella quale l’autore accatasta disordinatamente tantissimi elementi con l’unico fine, perlomeno secondo la mia interpretazione, di stupire il lettore e trarre una morale scontata e banale.
Prima di entrare nella vicenda mi sembra però giusto soffermarmi un po’ sulla struttura del romanzo, che rappresenta a mio avviso uno dei suoi pochi elementi di pregio. Come detto la storia, che pure ruota attorno alle vicende di due protagonisti, coinvolge diversi personaggi, e Harvey sceglie di raccontarci le loro vicende in parallelo. Nell’ambito di pochi, lunghi capitoli, ciascuno dedicato ad una intera giornata o a una sua porzione, delle sei in cui la vicenda si svolge, le azioni di ciascuno dei personaggi principali della storia sono raccontate in brevi sottocapitoli, separati da uno stacco tipografico, così che il lettore può seguire come detto in parallelo e da punti di vista diversi gli avvenimenti. Nulla di nuovo, per carità: è questa una tecnica molto utilizzata in letteratura e anche al cinema (si pensi ad esempio alla splendida opera prima di Stanley Kubrick, Rapina a mano armata o anche a Rashomon), ma è indubbio che una tale struttura narrativa, oltre ad essere perfettamente funzionale a creare la suspense necessaria in un thriller, generando automaticamente molti più punti di sospensione dell’azione di quanti ve ne sarebbero in una narrazione in continuo, permette al romanzo di acquistare una sua peculiare agilità facendo scorrere rapidamente le singole sequenze narrative.
Veniamo alla storia. Un giovedì d’estate giungono a Bareneed, per una breve vacanza, Joseph Blackwood, un guardapesca il cui padre era originario della zona ma che vive nella capitale dello Stato, Saint John's, con la figlia di otto anni Robin. Scopriremo che Joseph si è separato da poco dalla moglie e madre di Robin, Kim, biologa marina. Incontrano subito una simpatica vecchietta del posto, Eileen Laracy, che viene immediatamente caratterizzata per due particolarità. La prima è che parla solo nel dialetto locale (particolare su cui tornerò), e la seconda è che vive, o meglio è vissuta sino alla mezza età, in compagnia degli spiriti dell’aldilà, che le tenevano compagnia nella sua solitudine. Da molti decenni, però, gli spiriti se ne sono andati. Scopriremo più avanti che Eileen in gioventù è stata fidanzata con il pescatore Uriah, che però poco prima del matrimonio è scomparso in mare insieme ad un amico.
Joseph e Robin hanno affittato casa Critch, su un’altura non lontana dal porto, e nelle vicinanze vi è una casa solare, in cui vive Claudia, giovane e sensuale artista che pochi anni prima ha perso, causa una tragedia in mare, il marito Reg e la figlia Jessica. Claudia sospetta che Reg, che negli ultimi tempi era divenuto violento, abbia fatto annegare Jessica e si sia suicidato.
Bareneed, la cui economia è fondata sulla pesca, è in crisi, perché da alcuni anni il governo ha vietato la pesca al merluzzo, che ormai nell’oceano scarseggia. C’è quindi molta disoccupazione tra gli abitanti.
Nell’unica digressione temporale della vicenda veniamo a sapere che otto giorni prima una signora del luogo, Donna Drover, pescatrice vedova e disoccupata, è andata a trovare il figlio Muss, anch’egli disoccupato, diventato negli ultimi tempi violento e con problemi respiratori. Donna da qualche tempo vede cose strane: mostri marini e una bambina livida e con i vestiti bagnati nelle vicinanze della casa di Claudia. Tornata a casa, Donna si sente male: è come se non riuscisse a respirare quando non lo fa coscientemente.
Anche Robin vede una bambina con gli abiti bagnati nella casa di Claudia, e diviene sua amica, nonostante il padre non la veda. La bambina è proprio la piccola Jessica, che racconta a Robin il suo essere uno spirito che non riesce a staccarsi completamente dalla terra. Frattanto anche un vecchio del posto, Loyd Fowler, accusa problemi respiratori: il dottor George Thompson, anziano e bonario, non riesce a classificare i sintomi dei suoi disturbi, e Loyd muore la sera stessa.
La mattina dopo Joseph e Robin vanno a pescare al molo: la bambina aggancia una grossa preda, che si rivela essere uno scazzone di uno strano colore rosso: dimenandosi nello spasimo della morte il pesce vomita, assieme ad una nauseabonda poltiglia, la testa di una bambola.
È solo l’inizio di una intricatissima vicenda, che vedrà intervenire molti altri personaggi: grossi pesci usciranno dal mare o dalle bocche di decine di persone morte anni o secoli prima i cui corpi il mare restituirà intatti, mentre le crisi respiratorie colpiranno moltissimi membri della comunità. Gli strani e terribili avvenimenti di Bareneed faranno intervenire l’esercito, che installerà sulle colline circostanti dei rifrattori di onde elettromagnetiche il cui accumulo verrà ritenuto la causa di ciò che sta accadendo, mentre i veggenti locali, la vecchissima Eileen Laracy e il suo amico Tommy Quilty (un signore che disegna il futuro e che a due anni era stato rapito dalle fate...), attribuiscono il tutto al fatto che gli spiriti non riescono più a vivere nella comunità da quando è arrivata la televisione.
Non mancheranno momenti altamente drammatici che riguarderanno soprattutto la piccola Robin, e seguiremo l’evoluzione del rapporto tra Joseph e la moglie da cui si è separato, sino al gran finale in cui Bareneed è minacciata da uno tsunami generato dall’accumulo di energia provocato, pare, dalle onde elettromagnetiche che l’esercito sta rifrangendo, “migliaia e migliaia di linee rosse incrociate e puntate in un fantastiliardo di direzioni diverse” (sic!) .
Credo che nulla possa dare un’idea del contenuto di questo romanzo come riportarne un passo, che considero uno dei vertici narrativi ed è altamente esemplificativo di cosa il lettore deve sopportare per oltre 500 pagine. A pagina 435 siamo in uno dei momenti più drammatici della storia: la vita di Joseph Blackwood è in grave pericolo ed egli si confronta con la visione del fantasma di Reg, il marito morto di Claudia.
"Claudia indicò suo marito, che sollevò i pesci e li strizzò. Dal primo schizzò un fiotto di fluorescenti uova ambrate, dal secondo un getto di sperma lattiginoso. I due schizzi si scontrarono a mezz’aria e formarono una persona minuta, una bambina. Jessica, con gli occhi rotondi e le labbra che si aprivano e chiudevano e riaprivano come per inspirare l’aria. La bambina si girò fino a darle la schiena. Reg, annuendo con un sogghigno, sollevò i pesci e, uno alla volta, se li infilò abilmente in gola.”
Insomma, un gran pateracchio sconclusionato, composto di una serie di luoghi comuni dell’horror (morti che ritornano, spiriti visti da pochi veggenti, il fantasma di un cane nero con tendenze assassine, molte altre cose) o da altri più caserecci, come i numerosi pesci che compaiono all’improvviso o vengono vomitati da fantasmi e che non riescono mai ad apparirci mostruosi, avendo spesso il solo potere di evocare la frittura. Il tutto per dirci, alla fine, che la causa degli avvenimenti era in realtà la perdita di identità della comunità, il fatto che nessuno si raccontava più storie per l’influsso malefico della televisione. Già, perché in questi casi è necessario che ci sia una morale, altrimenti perché costruire tutto questo castello di terrore a buon mercato in salsa alieutica? E la morale è per il buon Harvey il ritorno ad un’epoca pretelevisiva, anzi addirittura preelettrica.
Ma non è finita qui, perché alla insipienza dell’opera originale la traduzione italiana, affidata ad Alessandra Montrucchio, aggiunge una perla nera tutta sua. La Montrucchio si è trovata infatti di fronte ad un problema oggettivamente di difficile soluzione: come rendere il dialetto di Terranova parlato strettamente da Eileen Laracy, da Tommy Quilty e da altri personaggi locali? La traduttrice nella Nota posposta al romanzo, informa che ”chi lo parla pronuncia in fretta le parole e tende a mangiarsele, inverte i posti canonici delle acca aspirate e ha un accento simile all’irlandese. Si tratta però di peculiarità orali, impossibili da riprodurre nello scritto”. E già qui si potrebbe obiettare che probabilmente invece l’autore c’è riuscito, visto che è in quel dialetto che fa parlare alcuni personaggi. Cosa fa quindi la scaltra Montrucchio di fronte a cotanta difficoltà? Fa esprimere Eileen, Tommy e gli altri… in abruzzese! Per capire meglio, riporto la prima frase pronunciata da Eileen, all’inizio del romanzo: ”Sciò, mosche, nen rompe’ […] U sî na fate de li lillà cu la maschera?” Da questa scelta risultano due sciagurate conseguenze: la prima, ovvia, è di togliere ogni credibilità ai discorsi di questi personaggi, perché francamente la distonia tra l’ambientazione anglosassone in cui il lettore è immerso e il passaggio al dialetto abruzzese è micidiale. La seconda è di non avere risolto il problema da cui ha preso le mosse, perché comunque ha dovuto rendere in forma scritta, esattamente come ha fatto l’autore, le “peculiarità orali, impossibili da riprodurre nello scritto”. Possibile che non abbia potuto trovare una forma di italiano diversamente costruito, come spesso si fa in questo caso?
Nella Nota del traduttore già citata Montrucchio giustifica dottamente questa sua scelta: è proprio il caso di dire che excusatio non petita… .
Nella sua marchetta nel risguardo di copertina, il compianto Timothy Findley dice a proposito di Kenneth J. Harvey: Una delle voci più importanti per il futuro della letteratura canadese. Per il bene culturale di quel paese auspico che nel frattempo siano nate voci più importanti, e personalmente mi auguro anche di essere stato in seguito più selettivo nei miei acquisti.
Ma questa è Einaudi stile libero, bellezza, la collana della rinascita, quella che fa diventare libro tutto ciò che libro non è.

[Jeannie Sloan · Rating 4 out of 5]

This book reminds me of an old fashioned ghost stories.No violence or sexual perversion so I liked it.The story was interesting and the characters were well drawn out.So it takes a big leap of faith to believe some of the things that go on.It was a good and fun book and I am glad that I read it.

[V Mignon · Rating 1 out of 5]

I'm about to say something that I'm not entirely prepared for.

Kenneth J. Harvey's The Town That Forgot How to Breath is worse than Ethan Frome. There! I said it! I said it.

What Edith Wharton had going for her was that the protagonists' suicidal act of riding a sleigh into a tree, to end their petty, bourgeoisie existence, is hilarious in the worst way possible. Harvey's novel does not possess that kind of humor. Nor does it possess atmosphere, characters, plot, creative language, or anything that would make a book memorable.

Imagine a novel with absolutely no atmosphere whatsoever. No language to tell you where the characters are. No hints as to the relationship between man and nature. Nothing. Now, add to that characters. Did you start to give your character an interest? Shame, shame. Take away any interesting traits your characters may possess. And instead of using language to insinuate their feelings and thoughts, tell every single thing that goes through their head. "It had been such a long and tedious battle with Kim. The deterioration of their relationship and then the legal maelstrom that had sucked the spirit out of him." Don't try at any time to show our protagonist spiritually exhausted. And last, throw in whatever supernatural element you want. Ghosts. Psychics. Auras. Fairies. Even mermaids? Sure, even mermaids. They'll certainly add absolutely nothing to the novel.

You tell me. What kind of novel have we created here?

One that I almost threw at a wall out of frustration that once again, I was going to read fifty pages about what Joseph thought about Kim and what Kim thought about Joseph.

By synopsis alone, I was intrigued. Harvey's The Town That Forgot How to Breath is supposed to be about a Canadian town where people, obviously, forget how to breath. A mysterious disease takes over Bareneed and next thing you know, monstrous fish are popping up out of the ocean. I'm not entirely sure what kind of novel Harvey was going for, honestly. It's packaged to be an eerie, weird horror story, but it's more a slice-of-life wheel of morality trip that never once says anything of any merit. Well, it does say one thing. "Electricity = bad."

Joseph, newly estranged from his wife Kim, takes his daughter (and here I actually had to stop and look up her name) Robin on a vacation to his father's childhood home: Bareneed. At the same time, writer/artist Claudia, who we meet painting words on her sleeve, "My gown is parchment. I wear it like a skin that tells my story by design," (such an artiste!) is missing her husband and daughter who disappeared. And did I forget to mention the cast of other narrators? There's Miss Laracy, an elderly woman who opens the novel by declaring that fairies exist. And who could forget the doctor who bumbles around and cares for his cat? Or that . . . police detective, who hides his images of slayings from his wife as if it was pornography.

Despite the fact that I was speed-reading this novel (which is a habit I rarely partake in), it seemed as though all was for naught; I had read 100 pages only to realize, "You mean I have to read 100 more pages of this?" Perhaps it wouldn't have seemed as lengthy if the entire text wasn't a wall of telling. In no way is The Town That Forgot How to Breath an indication of Harvey's award-winning writing. At least I hope it isn't. With moments of, "She stared at her computer screen. Words," I really, really hope not.

Nothing is left up to the imagination of the reader. We're given the thoughts of every single inhabitant of Bareneed to such a degree that you wish they would all return to the plot. There are a good 50 pages of Kim's told thoughts and Joseph's told thoughts. That might have been my breaking point. But I have a high tolerance for literary pain, apparently. I began skimming, another reading habit that is rare in me. First, words and sentences. Then paragraphs. Then, finally, pages. Because there were pages where nothing of interest happened. How is it that this book can be 471 pages long and I have no idea who these characters are by the end? How is that possible?

Not to mention the really strange sentences that seemed to have slipped the editor. ". . . feeling a confession coming on, feeling that these words he was about to speak would realize the mood of a bitten-lipped kiss." What? Usually, this kind of writing is expected out of amateur writers. But someone who has won awards for his incredible work? Or how about when Joseph "webbed" his brows. How does one web their brows? These are things that you need to think about in writing. Always question what it is you're saying.

At one point, in my notes, I wrote down, "All telling and no showing make Harvey a dull boy." And that was when it hit me. This is The Shining. A man trying to escape the pressures of the city by returning to a small town with his wife and child, only to find weird occurrences that make him violent towards said wife and child? Except without a Stanley Kubrick adaptation to cement it in the realm of pop culture. Nor with quite the appalling violence that the man is willing to act out on his family.

Let's not forget the insulting messages packed in at the end. The people who forget how to breath learn that they can breath again when they think "positive" thoughts. Essentially, this posits that electricity is at the root of human ails, as it makes us think bad thoughts, and if we just got rid of all our technology, everything would be a-okay. The people who are afflicted suffer from symptoms of depression and anxiety. So I can only assume that Harvey is stating that we could solve all of our psychological issues by . . . thinking them away?

There are people out there who will tell you that those with depression would feel better if only they started thinking happy thoughts. These people have no understanding of depression whatsoever. To insist that people are capable of "making" themselves happy is giving the being too much authority over the brain. Sometimes, there really is nothing you can do. But that's where technology steps in. That's where science steps in and gives you a helping hand.

It's too easy to take a jab at technology. Yes, technology has hindered us in some ways. It's changed the way we live from, say, fifty years ago. But think of all the advances we've made. Think of all the people who can live today who might have died immediately in the past, or would have been relegated to living in a hospital. Think of the connections we're capable of making these days, that I can communicate with someone halfway across the world in seconds. Technology is not evil. It is a complicated issue. But not evil.

Perhaps this is too complex of a subject for Harvey's writing, though. Who knows. What I do know is that based upon how much I disliked The Town That Forgot How to Breath, I won't be picking up his other novels.

[Ayşenur Nazlı · Rating 2 out of 5]

Kitabın konusunu okuduğumda vay canına demiştim, epey merak etmiştim, sonra bu puanı görünce beklentimi düşürdüm. Yine de kitabın yarısına kadar nesini sevmediler acaba diye düşünüyordum. O andan sonra iyice saçmalamaya başladı 🤦🏻‍♀️ Konu güzeldi, anlatım fena değildi ama neden-sonuç ilişkisi ve işleyiş çok kötüydü. Her şeyi karman çorman etmiş. Hadi ışıkları kapatıp ateş başında eski çağlara dönelim diye bir finale de katlanamadım artık.

[Cathy · Rating 4 out of 5]

this is a very convincingly creepy read, about a remote Newfoundland fishing town that becomes afflicted with more and more bizarre supernatural events -- sea monsters in the bay, the long dead washing ashore intact, live fish suddenly flopping in people's barns. A native son has returned from the Big City with his little girl, who starts playing with a malevolent ghost girl while Daddy gets more and more bonkers. Meanwhile, long-time residents of the town are being stricken by a mysterious malady that literally makes them forget to breathe.

Some of this is GREAT -- the ghost, in particular, is strange and terrifying, and Harvey creates a unique atmosphere. And there's a nice vivid sense of place; I felt like, as surreal as the book was, it still gave me a sense of what Newfoundland is like, both the scenery and the culture.

The book is undone, though, by an overcomplicated and mystical plot. It's top-heavy with preachy Big Messages, which ultimately sink it. And to cram all the preaching in, it uses about five subplots too many. They all more or less come together in the end, but for most of its length the book is pretty unwieldy.

The other problem I had was that it felt very static, possibly because there were too many story threads for Harvey to pay attention to -- instead of building to a climax, it just keeps circling back to the same disconnected scenes -- ghost girl, wise old-timer lady, nutty dad, locals forgetting how to breathe. drowned bodies, ghost girl, freaky artist neighbor lady, nutty dad, not-breathing locals .... around and around. There's no sense of urgency or progression.

I still gave it four stars because it creates a unique and memorable atmosphere -- sort of like Italian horror films, there's a dreamlike gothic quality to the enterprise that makes it disturbing without blood and guts. And that little girl is NASTY. Had a good 100 or 150 pages been cut, this would have been a five-star book for sure.

[Arkadia · Rating 1 out of 5]

Picked this up on a whim while perusing the book store, and had to buy it because of the beautifully done cover and the concept.

Worst decision ever. Quite possibly one of the worst books I've ever bought, and the only one I've ever felt so insulted spending money on that I made the effort to return it so I could have my money back. I only got about 40 pages in but the prose was so contrived I knew to plod on any further would be both a waste of time and result in an unhealthy rise in my blood pressure levels.

I don't mean to insult those reviewers who cited the book's 'well written prose' but it's a commonly accepted fact among educated writers that stringing a slew of adjectives and adverbs together as much as humanly possibly is not indicative of good writing. To me this book reads like the self-proclaimed magnum opus of a fifteen year old who thinks they are god's gift to writing. There was a lot of pretty words shoved together and very little reason or substance.

This really was painfully bad.

[Kristina · Rating 3 out of 5]

First, the synopsis, found on the inside of the book jacket: “Something strange is happening in the seaside town of Bareneed. Mythical creatures that formally existed only in mariners’ dreams are being pulled from the sea. Perfectly preserved corpses of villagers long ago lost at sea are being washed upon the shore. And residents of the town are suddenly suffering from a mysterious illness that is making them forget how to breathe.

Recent divorce Joseph Blackwood has returned to his hometown in hopes of reconnecting with his estranged daughter. But when the young girl begins having visions and conversing with the spirit of a neighbor’s deceased child, he knows that his daughter is suffering from a supernatural affliction. Now, with the help of some colorful village residents, Joseph must unravel this paranormal mystery to save his only child.”

So reading that synopsis, I was very intrigued. But first off, I should say that it’s slightly misleading. Joseph and his daughter do not seem to be estranged in the sense that they are emotionally apart; rather they are only separated by his divorce. I expected them to have a rocky relationship, but Robin very much loves her father and they flow quite well together.

Second of all, through the entire book Joseph doesn’t really actually try to unravel any mystery; he doesn’t attempt to solve it, he’s merely swept up in the confusion of what is happening to himself and his daughter.

And third, the book is nearly as much about a few other residents of the town as it is about Joseph and Robin. We are introduced to quite a few very interesting characters who all have some part to play in the happenings of the town, and we learn their stories as well as Joseph’s and Robin’s. All the while, Joseph never really seems to delve into what is happening to his daughter and why she is seeing visions and talking to the dead– really, he seems to have known that it was always like this, as it is revealed in Robin’s own account that she has seen auras from the time she was a babe.

So, while the synopsis is a little off — and what synopsis isn’t, really? — the book itself really captured me from the first few chapters. The author weaves a very interesting mystery of a town that has become infested with strange happenings from the sea, dead bodies turning up that had been dead for seventy or more years, mythical animals being sighted, and two or three people who can see spirits, auras, and glimpses of the future. One in particular, Tommy Quilty, draws his visions and sometimes fears them, and has full belief in all things supernatural. It is said that when he was a baby, he was taken by the fairies and changed, returned to his home with “the sight” and made a simpleton, so that none but the truest of hearts would love him.

It is through him that many of the fortellings come, and because of him that part of the mystery is solved.

As I got deeper into the chapters, more and more questions arose and I was pulled further and further into the stories. There is Joseph and his daughter Robin, visiting Bareneed for a vacation; Claudia, his neighbor, a Victorian-esque tragedy of an artist, who had lost her husband and daughter many years before and slowly emerges from her glass house, a continuously enthralling mystery to Joseph; her daughter, who shows up as a dead girl waterlogged, seemingly drowned, who repeats phrases about the sea and befriends Robin; a black dog that belongs to nobody and comes and goes mysteriously; an old woman who has lived in Bareneed her entire life, whose fiance was lost at sea and who, at one time, had “the sight” but has since lost it and misses seeing the spirits come and go; Tommy Quilty, the simpleton with “the sight”, who draws his art and foretells strange comings and fears the things he draws; Rayna, the woman he keeps an eye on whose husband was lost at sea and who drinks heavily but is one of the few who truly treasures Tommy; and many, many others.

As he writes, Harvey spins a compelling mystery full of questions: what does Claudia really want with Joseph, and who is she, truly? Why are there people forgetting how to breathe? What do the spirits want, and why are the magical creatures coming forth from the sea? How were the bodies so preserved? Where did the black dog come from? Why is Tommy so intrinsically connected to the magical things that are happening?

And, mostly, I wanted to know why Claudia, in the end, appeared as a completely different person to someone else than she did to Joseph. And why in a short section about Joseph’s wife, she and her exact situation appeared in a book that the wife was reading. Was she an apparition as well? Was she a magical creature?

Sadly, by the end of the book only a few of my questions were answered, in a very vague sort of way. Tommy’s role in the whole thing is revealed by way of assumption, but the mystery of the black dog, who Claudia really was, why the spirits were creating havoc, and where the magical creatures came from were never really answered. There are some cases where keeping a few mysteries unsolved can be an excellent way to end a book, but I felt there were far too many unanswered questions when this story ended.

Throughout it all, there was not one solid answer for any of the things that happened. There were causes and effects that could be assumed, one or two situations that partially resolved issues, and an epilogue that read like a tall tale that vaguely covered what happened after the fact. But there was no real satisfying end to the tale. I finished the book with as many questions as I’d had when I started, and there were no real feelings involved- I was not happy, sad, angry, relieved, victorious… etc. My involvement in the story and feelings brought up by its characters slowly peaked somewhere in the middle of the book, and steadily grew lesser from there.

Overall, I would give the story a three out of five. Harvey’s writing voice is an interesting one, and some of his prose is quite enthralling, but in the end his adept storytelling came to a very uninteresting end, leaving me only halfheartedly wondering the answers to the mysteries he had spun.

[emma cassedy · Rating 5 out of 5]

My history with this book started off lackluster. I bought it, intrigued by the title, the cover, and the brief snippet of information provided. Then it got shoved around, moved onto various bookshelves during three moves, lost in a box in storage probably more than once, but it finally resurfaced and I was hooked.

It starts off small and somewhat slow, but sometimes the books that really pack the most impact, the biggest punch, sneak up on you and demand a bit more of your attention and time than you might normally provide it. This was one of those books for me.

Amid a rather remote town, a bevy of very specific characters with their very individualized views of the world and the town of Bareneed (we're in Newfoundland, so for most readers it might seem like a visit to some little known remote town along the sea that no one's ever heard of), and flying fish, mermaids, other mythical creatures only imagined, and a layer of unease, despair, and blinding humanity that you're unable to shake, this book throws the reader into what is at the same time a mystery, a discovery, a search, a dream, and ultimately a memorial of life, of death, of memories, of loss, gain, and humanity.

Kenneth Harvey's writing has enough fantasy woven throughout each of its pages to lift the reader away from the chair, or room, or the patch of grass they happen to be reading this book in, and throws you into another world still close enough to ours to latch onto the reality he presents. It's lyrical quality can pull you in and sweep you along, with enough time and enough effort to pull you past the slightly slow beginning.

You hear, in this story, in the individual stories of the local historian and storyteller who weaves herself through the lives of all the other characters, the visitors who would probably be considered the main characters--father and daughter reconnecting, losing touch, gathering the pieces back together again--the moody, distraught, haunted neighbor who can't let go of what (who) she's lost, the endearing but physically changed seer with his sketchbook, and the town of Bareneed itself, and the sea. Together, they create a story that is about life, death, nature, loss, hope, and what may or may not be fate, but seems unerringly human, and real.

[Lori · Rating 3 out of 5]

Ok, So Ive read mixed reviews about this book, and went ahead and read it myself.

I liked it. I did. But there were some longer, drawn out parts that probably didnt need to be.... The author is overly descriptive at times... which I guess is good for someone who tends to like authors who over-explain things...

I liked the idea of the story. A small sea side town is suddenly inflicted with a strange illness that makes them forget to breathe. A father and his daughter just happen to rent a place in that town as the weird stuff starts going down. Theres a "special" man in town who can see into the future and draws what he sees, an older woman who can see spirits, and a young dead girl who hangs out with the living, whose crazy mother lives in a glass house. There are police, and doctors trying to figure out what is going on as dead bodies are expeled from the sea, and mystical creatures begin to surface.......Wow, they sure squeesed alot in to this book....

The book is somewhere around 480 pages, and considering the amount of time the author has spent setting up the whole stroy line, he should have devoted more time to the ending. it seemed a little rushed. Speeding by over the last 40 pages or so.....

All in all, not a bad story. Give it a read if youre interested in sea-forklore, fishermen, spirits, and a little bit of suspense thrown in to keep you guessing till the end.

[Cassie · Rating 1 out of 5]

This is the worst book I have ever read. I made it through 400 pages before I started skimming, which I consider to be a remarkable feat.

Speaking of remarkable feats...I have to commend this author for writing a 471 page novel in which ABSOLUTELY NOTHING HAPPENS to people I care ABSOLUTELY NOTHING ABOUT. Kudos to him also for taking a promising concept (a mysterious disease that makes people forget how to breathe, strange sea creatures and preserved dead bodies washing up on shore) and turning it into a cumbersome, boring novel that I would recommend to no one, ever.

There is no character development here, very little plot, and no payoff at the end of the book. The two characters that are even remotely interesting speak in a barely-understandable dialect that is more trouble to interpret than it's worth.

I can usually find something redeemable in every book I read, no matter how bad it is, but not in this case. I despaired every time I counted the pages to see how many I had left. If I was mentally capable of giving up on a book, I would have given up on this one about 50 pages in. Don't read it.

[William Thomas · Rating 1 out of 5]

The problem with that i had with this book is the same problem i find in all of hp lovecraft's writings in that i do not care about the characters, i do not care about the storyline and i do not care about the mathematical and rote style of writing. it reads like an aldous huxley novel, not human at all, but instead as if it were written by Data from star trek or mr. spock. it is in complete contrast of better horror writers such as christopher golden, whose stories and characters you care for because of the distinctly human feel. a human feel to a horror novel lends credibility and believability as well as enhances the horror because of the human element. we are not horrified unless we feel attached. i could not finish the 400 something pages of this book and the half of it i did read was enough to put me to sleep.

[Dayna Ingram · Rating 2 out of 5]

Once again, the trifecta of a great cover design, intriguing premise, and praise-filled review blurbs sucker me into buying a severely mediocre novel. The San Francisco Chronicle calls this "literary horror". This distinction got my hopes up for some stellar writing, but I guess my definition of "literary" is different than theirs, because this reads like any old lazily written Plotty McPlotplot horror novel. There is virtually no character development, far too much summary vs. actual scenes, and a criminal overuse of adverbs. I was really excited to read this but I only got to page 50 before grudgingly accepting the fact that this book has nothing new or worthwhile to offer me.

[Elena Fu · Rating 3 out of 5]

In short: this book felt like 50 sound ideas crammed into 450 or so unnecessary pages. Like the author was overly excited to include all these super cool gothic elements! and forgot focus and specificity in the plot. I liked some of the writing devices, like tracking Joseph’s slow decent into madness through the confusion in his perspective; this done slowly chapter by chapter creates a good amount of suspension and dread. Overall, though, this book was quite subpar. I wouldn’t waste my time re-reading it. Felt like if someone combined Stranger Things and Midnight Mass into a book and did it rather poorly.

[danielle :) · Rating 1 out of 5]

THIS BOOK WAS AWFUL. i forced myself to finish it but it is probably the worst book i’ve ever read. the plot wasn’t that bad, but the writing was very slow and switched narrators every few pages, which made things extra confusing on top of the confusing plot. the ending didn’t answer any of my questions either 😭😭 0/10 i do not recommend

[Alex Gagliardi · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed the book. Excellent story! Ending seemed a little rushed but it was good!

[Theresa · Rating 3 out of 5]

Everyone has heard the phrase, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’. Yet, that is precisely what I do... a lot of the time. Okay, so I don’t judge exactly, but I have to admit I can be greatly influenced by a book’s cover art as well as the title; that is what possessed me to purchase Kenneth J. Harvey’s novel The Town That Forgot How To Breathe.

I purchased my paperback copy live and in person from the now defunct Border’s. The background color of the book’s cover is black with the only additional color being white. The title of the book is written in a raised white font which is spindly in nature; it is centered in the upper half of the front cover. On the bottom of the front cover slightly off centered to the right in white is a bald dolls head. The eyes are vacant, the head appears to be coming out of a splash of raised water which follows the book completely around to the back where we find a synopsis of the book again written in the same, albeit smaller, white spindly font. Some words are larger than the others… these words drew me in; mythical creatures, corpses, gothic thriller, H.P. Lovecraft, haunting. I had to read this book!

Scanning the inside I come upon the table of contents. There are fourteen chapters with titles such as; Thursday, Eight Days Ago, Thursday Afternoon and Night, Friday, Friday Night and this continues to Tuesday night and then the Epilogue. I like the simplicity of the titles and it also shows me that what occurs within these 471 pages take place in a span of 6 days.

I expected so much more from this book. I wanted to be on the edge of my seat, turning the page to find out what happens next. Alas, this never happened.

In the beginning of the book the character of Miss Laracey was not my favourite; her dialect was hard to read and it threw me off, however, by the end of the book she had endeared herself to me.

Throughout the book I held out hope for the relationship between Joseph and Kim and every time Claudia came into the picture, I held my breath… pun not intended, ok maybe a little.

Characters were brought in and then dropped out of the story without incident; as was the case of Luke and the albino shark. We learn from Tommy Quilty that the shark starts to regain its colour on the way back to St. John’s but it was never explained or elaborated on. It was like the only reason for that piece of the story was to allow Kim to travel to Bareneed.

I was mostly drawn to the story of Joseph and his daughter Robin. At times I felt they were being possessed by Reg and Jennifer. However, Joseph’s decent into madness seemed to have happened off page. He was sane at the end of one chapter and the next he was over the edge. His madness had me fearing for Robin’s life.

The character Claudia was most confusing, especially at the end. Was she the black dog? Sand pouring out of her wound, and why was Sergeant Chase seeing a little girl? Was Chase actually seeing Jennifer?


For me, there were too many story lines going on that never really seemed to connect.
Was it worth the read? I think so, and I would not discourage anyone from reading the book. Would I run up to my bibliophile friends exclaiming, “You’ve got to read this book!”? Sadly, I would not.

I felt that the cure for “forgetting how to breathe” was the telling of stories; the tall tales.

My overall emotion as the book wound to its end was a deep sadness… a sadness that we all have seemed to have misplaced or lost our stories; the oral tradition of history and storytelling.

[Ryan · Rating 2 out of 5]

This was one of those books I picked up when our second Borders location was closing, something I still can't believe ever happened. I was perusing the fiction aisles and since I couldn't see the cover, it was the title that jumped out at me. Once I pulled it off the shelf, I no longer cared what the book would even be about, I was in love with the cover. I really wish this picture could do it justice, but it doesn't even come close. There are so many details done in a glossy black that just shimmers and captures the eye. The best part is something you couldn't even begin to experience through the picture, the images and title all have this wonderful texture to them. I love to run my hands over the cover, spine, and back. This is why I can't do ebooks, I would be missing out on this wonderful tactile joy. You can feel each splash of water, you can see the light play over the splashes, highlighting some, then others as the light changes. You can't get that from a electronic screen, so you can keep your ebooks, I'll stick the real deal.

Maybe you have guessed by know that my focus on the cover is my subtle way to avoid what's inside the cover. It's actually something I've been avoiding for a while now, I actually started this post a week and a half ago. It's not the I hated the book, that would be better than what I'm feeling. In reality, I'm pretty damn neutral on it. I'm so neutral, I have nothing to say, zip, zero, zilch. At this point in time, I would be hard pressed to name even one character, without cheating.

I can remember enjoying the story for the most part, especially in the beginning. People stop breathing, not because they can't, but because they don't remember how. Mermaids, krakens, fairies, and ghosts are starting to appear all over town, and bodies that have been in the sea for decades (or longer) are washing up on shore as if they just fell in. It's once the author tried to tie in a message that I sort of lost track of where I was or what was going on. I get human advancements, especially electricity or radio waves have probably interfered with our environment in ways I can't even begin to imagine, I'm just not sure this was quite the right avenue to explore those concepts. Now I know the book was supposed to deal with life and death, our ties to the past and the world we live in, and I think there was even a hint or two about how we should treat each other. That all got lost for me in this strange hodgepodge of genres, themes, and realities.

I know for a fact, and I could even name of few of them, that some of my fellow bloggers would love this book. They would be able to get lost in the story, be terrified by some of the happenings, and maybe even learn a lesson or two. I'm just not one of them. So for now, I'll be happy running my fingers over the cover, getting lost in the texture and beauty that resides on the surface.

[Jaime Boler · Rating 4 out of 5]

In the tradition of Michael Crummey's Galore and Carsten Jensen's We, the Drowned is the 2005 novel The Town That Forgot How to Breathe by Kenneth J. Harvey. Although it is lesser known than the novels by Crummey and Jensen, it is worthy of a read. Atmospheric and chilling, you'll wonder why The Town That Forgot How to Breathe ever escaped your notice.

Harvey lives in Newfoundland and is the author of Brud and Directions for an Opened Body. He has received the Raddall Atlantic Fiction Prize and has been shortlisted for the Commonwealth Writers Prize and the Books in Canada First Novel Award.

Joseph Blackwood and his daughter Robin vacation in the seaside town of Bareneed, Newfoundland. He has recently divorced and become estranged from his daughter; he hopes to reconnect with her. Blackwood's father was originally from Bareneed, and he still has relatives there. The seaside idyll, however, turns out to be anything but.

Bareneed residents cannot seem to remember to breathe. It is as if they have simply forgotten how to take breaths. At the same time, bodies of those who have perished at sea are suddenly washing up on shore. Next door to the house the Blackwoods are renting is the ghost of a little girl who died at sea. She wants to make friends with Robin and sings a little ditty over and over again: "My father went to sea-sea-sea to see what he could see-see-see and all that he could see-see-see was the bottom of the deep blue sea-sea-sea." You can see how Harvey beautifully sets the tone. There is such a chilling quality to this novel that I could literally feel the cold water in my bones.

Interestingly, like its people, Bareneed is a dying town. It, too, suffers from illness. Many are out of work and fail to make ends meet. The government had shut down the cod fishing industry, which was the primary livelihood of Bareneed. This, of course, hurt fishermen, but it also hurt those who worked in a fish plant in Bareneed. Those suffering from breathing problems are those who once fished or worked in the abandoned plant. Their world has drastically changed, and they are having difficulties adapting to life. As Harvey writes, these people are "fishers of men no more." The people of Bareneed have had their lifestyle threatened; they have lost their place and their sense of self. They are not sure if they will ever get it back either. I think many Americans in this economic crisis can relate to these people. Harvey also shows us a people who believe modern technology makes us sick and cuts us off from our deceased ancestors. It all makes for a curious read.

The lure of the sea is paramount in Harvey's work. The sea churns, envelopes bodies for years, and then spits them back out. This book has been on my to-be-read shelf since 2005 when I first bought it. I do not know for what I was waiting. I think it works well with Crummey and Jensen. If you enjoy sea lore, pick up The Town That Forgot How to Breathe.

[Heidi Ward · Rating 4 out of 5]

The Town that Forgot How to Breathe was a book I impulsively chose by its cover (and I've seen several reviews that started the same way). Though I had never heard of it, I'm very glad I did, because this strangely charming and incredibly eerie book -- part horror story, part eco-parable, all magically weird -- got under my skin with its vivid imagery and unusual setting.

Formerly a rich fishing ground, the tiny Newfoundland village of Bareneed's maritime industry has collapsed from overfishing, and the town and its inhabitants are slipping into a depression both economic and existential. But something strange is afoot in Bareneed: when several locals fall ill with an unrecognizable breathing disorder (viral? hysterical? fatal?), and perfectly-preserved dead bodies start washing up on the rocky shore, that's only the tip of the iceberg that eventually draws ghosts, sea monsters and military intervention into one -- mostly quite effective -- tall tale.

Harvey constructs TTTFHTB around a rotating set of POV characters, among them a local doctor and a police officer, both capable but out of their depth; a beatific little old lady who knows more than she's letting on; a man-child whose painted apocalyptic visions are coming to pass; and a "townie" fisheries officer with roots in Bareneed, who takes a summer-rental with his eight-year-old daughter. It's a large cast of characters for a small town, but Harvey gives them each a unique voice and perspective on the mysteries unfolding around them.

Only one of the many narrative threads falls short of its initial promise, which left me wondering if it might have been better left out -- but that same thread also offers up some of the most chilling and atmospheric scenes in the novel, so I'll let that shortcoming slide. I see the reviews here on Goodreads are very mixed -- I expect you either like this sort of fiction, or you don't. I'm giving TTTFHTB four enthusiastic stars, and would probably go 4.5 if GR would let me. If Stephen King's creepy, insular Maine towns appeal, if you loved the myth and magic of "The X-Files," if you enjoy a dank whiff of Lovecraftian horror, or if you've ever dreamed of seeing a mermaid, this book should be right in your wheelhouse.

[Sonia · Rating 3 out of 5]

It took me a long time to really get into this book. This was due to a series of factors, mostly personal, but also because I felt the book started off slow.

Although it can be argued that Joseph Blackwood is the "main" character, I felt that Harvey presented the work as more of an ensemble cast. Unfortunately the ensemble aspect wasn't perhaps as successful as I've seen from other authors (most notably Stephen King). It took me a while before I felt that I understood the characters enough to want to follow their story and while that's not necessarily a bad thing, in this case I think it didn't help me want to pick up the book and read. So I distracted myself with a lot of television, movies, and video games and only picked up the book when no other distraction was available. Until about page 200 when the novel picked up for me and I actually felt interested.

The plot is loose and a bit unfocused, but I think this book was intended to be more character-driven. I feel pushed to say that the book is filled with imagery, rather more like something written by an artist and less like something written by a novelist.

The book is creepy, BUT I felt that the reader had to have a very vivid imagination for the imagery to be as haunting as I believe it was intended. I remember thinking several times that many of the scenes would be great on film. Certainly the work is unique, not something that has been overdone either in literature or cinematically.

I really did enjoy both Tommy and Ms. Laracy as characters. Ms. Laracy was so spry, charming, and flirtatious that I couldn't help but adore her. I did get the distinct sense of most of the characters being fairly one-dimensional. The characters all seemed predominantly "good" and I found that just a wee bit boring.

Overall, I enjoyed the book, but it lacked a certain pinache that would have pushed me into a four or five star rating.

[Hilary "Fox" · Rating 2 out of 5]

The Town That Forgot How to Breathe was at no point quite what I expected it to be. I'd been told it was a book in general Lovecraftian style, playing on the trope of a strange isolated seaside community. I expected the usual progression such stories take: the fear of being an outsider in an insulated community, strange beliefs at odds with the modern world, the dark creatures that swim beneath the surface of the sea... Instead what I got was a bit of a treatise against the modern world and the evils of convenience.

Divorced Joseph, and his daughter Robin, go for vacation in the town of Bareneed. Joseph had come from fisherman stock, but had taken up a job as a fisheries officer rather than follow in his families footsteps. The book opens with Miss Laracy, the town elder, realizing that young Robin has the sight. She can see spirits, and thus is the new life that Bareneed indeed needs. What follows is a tale of gothic horror. People are stricken with an illness that manifests as an inability to breathe automatically. They've forgotten who they are, where they are, and where they come from. It's an odd metaphor of the loss of identity that tends to rise up in places where modern ways of life clash with tradition, and plays out accordingly...

It's an interesting book, and not really a bad one. I simply wished for more care to be put into the characterization of the people within it, and a bit more clarity when it came to certain people's motivations. I could easily see falling in love with this book if I cared more for the style in which it was written, but overall I just couldn't get as into it as I wished. Still an interesting book, though. Would likely make a killer miniseries if adapted to television.

[Lee · Rating 2 out of 5]

The book started off strong; the author did everything right to make it a mysterious and suspenseful. But the middle of the book is just confusing to me. The chapters are actually broken up by day (Friday, Friday Night, Saturday, Saturday Night, …), and at the end of one chapter (I can't remember) Joseph Blackwood is a sane man worried about his daughter and curious about his neighbor. But the next time we return to him, he has gone insane. While Harvey did a wonderful job depicting the thoughts of a crazy man, he didn't do so well on showing the descent into insanity. And for most of the book, Joseph Blackwood is crazy. You can follow his thoughts and actions fine, but for me, there was a nagging feeling like I had skipped over something. I couldn't understand what made his this way.

I do, however, like the overall message the story is trying to tell. The actual "cure" for this strange sickness seems to be telling stories of the past. Which I then guessed that talking to the person about their family was the key to it all. But Harvey actually writes in the epilogue. "They Told the story of the time that the people of Bareneed forgot how to breathe, until they came to recognize who they truly were and, through the turmoil of calamity, reclaimed their lives as their blessed own."

The writing was okay, although there were a few parts nearing the end where you could tell that Harvey had his game on. Everything was just flowing beautifully and it all fit. I guess it was just the insanity part that got to me.

[Julianne · Rating 3 out of 5]

After having this one on my shelf for almost 11 years, I'm very excited to say that I finished it! It only took me having to take medical leave for my daughter's tonsillectomy to get it done, but here we are.

Character development and the realism of their feelings and relationships was outstanding. It really makes me want to go and visit Newfoundland, too, which shows the love Harvey has for this land.

I did not find it quite as suspenseful as others had ranked it to be, and I feel that the whole storyline with Claudia and her family (and the black dog) was left incredibly and unsatisfyingly unclosed.

In addition, there are amazing inaccuracies with the hospital scenes and how patients are cared for who are on "respirators." Also, I don't know the size of Port de Grace's hospital, but I suspect it is incapable of providing mechanical ventilation to 80 people at one time (most community hospitals would have 1/3 that amount of ventilators available). Years ago...like, when I put this book on my reading list...this would have bothered me enough I may not have been able to finish the book. Now, being far enough removed from the ICU bedside, no longer a practicing respiratory therapist, and (perhaps) having the perspective of a few more years, I was able to overlook this to engage in the story that Harvey was trying to tell, though I do think the spiritual and physical connections were built a little clumsily and could have done with additional explanation or context.

[John · Rating 2 out of 5]

**Warning! May Contain Traces of Spoiler!**

mmeh... it was OK... it never really affected me in any way. I was never significantly chilled and the story didn't linger in my mind in between sittings at all. There was too much that was left unexplained (although, admittedly, I am a little slow on the uptake sometimes...). I would have preferred having the explanations behind the conflict to be a little more explicit. Although some of the characters were interesting (I loved Ms. Laracy), I found them all a little too passive or resigned throughout the story. IMHO, it would have been a better focused story if one character could have truly and significantly "grabbed the reins". It would have been great to see it all though Joseph's eyes, let's say, but he "checked out of reality" halfway through the book, never to return (really). Chase didn't do a damn thing in the whole book. French was mostly wishy-washy. The only person who came close to playing detective was Dr. Thompson, but then he'd always get sidetracked by his injuries, his preoccupation with food, or his cat!? (oh, and I forgot about his brief bout of incontinence!... bad fish anyone?)

And finally, the moral of the story is... spirits no like electricity! Turn lights and TV off, then spirits happy and they visit proper and play nice like civilized ghosties. Then everybody breathe good and remember to fish!

mmeh...

[Darbie Segraves · Rating 4 out of 5]

I really enjoyed this book. I connected with the majority of the characters. Miss Laracy reminded me much of my own grandmother. She was wise and knew her community and neighbors very well. I was super intrigued by Joseph and Robin’s story thread. I found myself really understanding and feeling depressed for Robin, going through her parent’s divorce. It was by far my favorite thread. As I was reading, I could easily picture the story playing out. The way the small town was depicted, I related it closely with my own. Overall I would say this book was very eerie and unsettling. The foreshadowing and disturbing metaphors were extremely creative and really supported this book’s unique story line. However the multiple story threads were very hard to keep up with. I found myself having to go back and reread parts because I confused minor characters with ones who would turn out to be important. This was definitely a book unlike any other I have read previously. I will never look at fishing the same way! I loved the ending connections between the story threads. Very clever!