It was in Reading Matters’ post listing the finalists for the Kerry Group Novel of the Year Award that drew my attention to this book. The story is set in a small Donegal fishing village and begins with the recovery of a baby who came floating in from the sea in a barrel in 1973. The baby was quickly taken in with the minimum of legal formality by a man named Ambrose (my father’s middle name) to the surprise of his wife. Christine found she had an immediate attachment to little Brendan, while her two year old son Declan, and her bossy older sister did not.
The stories of the lives of these people are told through the eyes of the community as a whole, an appealing device.
So the baby stayed with the Bonnars, his new parents fell for him completely and a certain satisfaction moved through the town. Most of us didn’t enquire after the details, respecting the Bonnars’ privacy the way we’d want ours respected if we ever took in a baby found in a barrel.
Sometimes I was overwhelmed by the interest and beauty of the author’s thoughts, like this:
At the wheel [of his boat], Ambrose whistled a tune, feeling joy pass up along his legs as he braced, warming his whole body. Most people lived invisibly, lost in the midst of towns and dense populations, but at sea Ambrose could use his coordinates and find himself on the entire globe, minuscule but definitely there, real. Imagining himself on the revolving earth gave him great contentment.
What a satisfying thought.
As is the case in so much of Irish literature in my experience, the backdrop of the story in this book is that things will not end well. After reading a long passage, I was conscious of both intriguing thoughts beautifully expressed and inevitable impending disaster hinted at. In one section Ambrose’s fishing boat is long overdue and the village shows up at their house to clean it in preparation for the expected funeral to come. Then the story moves to the boat which seems doomed as the crew is helpless to prevent disaster and the focus is on how each one reacts to this. I wondered whether we would be privy to their very last moments, and then the grief of those left behind. But they were rescued at the last moment.
That rescue did not change the trajectory of the fishing industry or many other trials individuals faced. Still, the beauty of the writing about intriguing thoughts are worth it, and there are hints of brighter times. Declan, the disgruntled older son unhappily takes up fishing, but several times whips up gourmet dishes long before anyone is interested in that type of food.
Declan put his creation on a plate and walked over, standing before his father and offering it forth. It had a baked dough base covered in some sort of tomato sauce, not ketchup, and about a dozen dark, glistening shapes.
“What are those?” asked Ambrose, a touch alarmed.
“Olives,” said Declan.
Garrett Carr, The Boy from the Sea, Alfred A. Knopf, 2025, 326 pages (I read the Kindle version). Available in the public library.