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A review by archytas
Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson
challenging
emotional
reflective
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
5.0
"You know what it means to have rugged anger melt, when your father laughs so hard at his own joke that tears stream down, down, down. You know what it means to find tears streaming down, down, down. Caught you unawares. A few years ago, and you had to turn off into an alley in the darkness and cry. The rush of memories like the tow of the ocean, the recollection of a man for whom love was not always synonymous with care. You cried like the time he left you in the shop and did not return. You cried yourself hoarse and soft. You cried like an infant does for their father. How ironic. Indeed, what is a joint? What is a fracture? What is a break? Under what conditions does unconditional love become no more? The answer is you will never not cry for your father."
Sometimes, books are overhyped, and sometimes they are simply so good that the publicity is going to sound overdone. Open Water is a gorgeously written book, which captures something ineffable about the potent mix of emotional intensity, forming sense of self and the difficulty of expressing yourself that marked (some of our) 20s. He fires this with a heartbreaking look at Black masculinity in a society which both characterises you as personifying, and then inflicts upon you, violence.
"That anger which is the result of things unspoken from now and then, of unresolved grief, large and small, of others assuming that he, beautiful Black person in gorgeous Black body, was born violent and dangerous; this assumption, impossible to hide, manifesting in every word and glance and action, and every word and glance and action ingested and internalized, and it’s unfair and unjust, this sort of death – being asked to live so constrained is a death of sorts ..."
This is the story of a photographer - "you" - who meets a dancer at a party. They play out their relationship against a background of music, alcohol and dance. It was clear to me reading this book how much those things are tools they use to manage their emotions, as well as revel in them. They struggle to be seen - this is dominent theme - and to build connection over break. The photographer also struggles to connect with his family on adult terms, to manage their relationship. They revel in each other, their bodies, the freedoms of both dance and photography. He slowly unravels and re-ravels, crushed by the pressure of living in fear and "finding yourself being constrained in a way you did not ask for, in a way which could not possibly contain all that you are, all that you could be, could want to be."
It wasn't completely perfect - I'm not convinced that Azumah Nelson entirely stuck the landing - but when it was good, it was absolutely, breathtakingly good, reminding me of the experience of reading Tara June Winch's Swallow the Air or Ocean Vuong for the first time.
Sometimes, books are overhyped, and sometimes they are simply so good that the publicity is going to sound overdone. Open Water is a gorgeously written book, which captures something ineffable about the potent mix of emotional intensity, forming sense of self and the difficulty of expressing yourself that marked (some of our) 20s. He fires this with a heartbreaking look at Black masculinity in a society which both characterises you as personifying, and then inflicts upon you, violence.
"That anger which is the result of things unspoken from now and then, of unresolved grief, large and small, of others assuming that he, beautiful Black person in gorgeous Black body, was born violent and dangerous; this assumption, impossible to hide, manifesting in every word and glance and action, and every word and glance and action ingested and internalized, and it’s unfair and unjust, this sort of death – being asked to live so constrained is a death of sorts ..."
This is the story of a photographer - "you" - who meets a dancer at a party. They play out their relationship against a background of music, alcohol and dance. It was clear to me reading this book how much those things are tools they use to manage their emotions, as well as revel in them. They struggle to be seen - this is dominent theme - and to build connection over break. The photographer also struggles to connect with his family on adult terms, to manage their relationship. They revel in each other, their bodies, the freedoms of both dance and photography. He slowly unravels and re-ravels, crushed by the pressure of living in fear and "finding yourself being constrained in a way you did not ask for, in a way which could not possibly contain all that you are, all that you could be, could want to be."
It wasn't completely perfect - I'm not convinced that Azumah Nelson entirely stuck the landing - but when it was good, it was absolutely, breathtakingly good, reminding me of the experience of reading Tara June Winch's Swallow the Air or Ocean Vuong for the first time.