It was its premise that attracted me to Sara Freeman’s Tides when it was pitched to me: a debut about a woman who flees after suffering a devastating bereavement drawn into a relationship with a man suffering his own loss, and there was mention of a spare writing style, always my favourite. I’d expected a more straightforward way of telling her story but Freeman’s chosen style of narrative suits its subject perfectly, opening with Mara on a bus knowing only that she’s heading to the coast.
This was exactly what she wanted, she must remind herself: to slip into a blind spot, to run out on her life
Mara has little idea of what she will do or where she will go, a few belongings stuffed into a backpack and not much in the way of money to survive on. She settles on a small town which attracts wealthy visitors and sufficient blow-ins to keep the local wine shop open. After several false starts, she spots a notice in its window advertising a vacancy and gets the job, setting herself up in the shop’s attic, uninvited, filching the odd leftover sandwich and bin end. The shop’s owner seems oblivious, too caught up in his own troubles, missing his wife and daughter. As summer comes to an end and winter sets in, he and Mara drift closer together until his wife returns.
He used to say there was nothing he could do to make him unlove her. We’ll see about that, she always thought
That synopsis may sound rather prosaic but it’s the telling of Mara’s story and the complexity of her character that makes this debut stand out, delivered in a series of short paragraphs, most of which barely fill half a page, details of her past emerging often obliquely with little spelled out. It’s almost a third of the way through before we learn Mara’s name, dropped quietly into a narrative written in the second person further distancing us from this woman who craves isolation but finds it almost impossible to achieve. Freeman’s writing is clean, precise and often vivid. I noted down far too many quotes to use here from a book which, if you took the white space out, might amount to little more than 100 pages. I found it extraordinary. It won’t be everyone’s cup of tea, but it’s certainly mine.
Granta Books: London 9781783787586 256 pages Hardback
Sounds excellent Susan. I’m definitely hunting for a copy of this today.
Cheers!
So pleased to hear that! Such beautiful writing. I hope you love it as much as I did.
That cover would tempt me all on its own! Sounds interesting Susan. Prosaic narratives always appeal to me.
Isn’t it gorgeous? It’s the delivery that makes this one so exceptional, Cathy.
Yes, what Cathy said! LOL
I do like the sound of this – vignettes are a winner for me, and that gorgeous cover.
I think you’d like like this, then, Annabel. It’s beautiful, isn’t it. So subtle.
This sounds like a lovely, delicately written novel. Those sorts of short snap shots if done well can really help to draw a reader in.
Not a structure that appeals to all readers, I know, but if you’re happy with a fragmented narrative, this one’s a treat.
I just found this book via Twitter yesterday. Your review is very good and very helpful.
So pleased to hear that. I hope it works for you.
Yeah… a very special book for sure!
It is, indeed. Can’t wait to read what she comes up with next.
I’m with you on that, totally!
It sounds remarkable. Thank you for sharing it with us.
You’re welcome. It’s an outstanding debut.
I love the idea of taking off on my own and finding a new place to live, but since I’m not likely to ever do that (I like my life!) I like to read about other people doing it. I seem to be adding a lot of books to my list tonight because of you! 🙂
Ah, but you’ve picked some excellent ones!
This does sound very good, Susan. I’m often attracted to novels/novellas about loss, so the combination of theme and setting seems right up my street. (I’ve made a note.)
I hope you enjoy it, Jacqui. Beautiful writing as long as you’re happy with a fragmented narrative.