Dark, salt, clear The life of a fishing town

Playwright Ash turns a curious and empathetic eye on the small fishing village of Newlyn in Cornwall, England, weaving history, myth, and memoir into a gripping and affecting debut. Introducing locals both down-to-earth, such as Roger, a grieving retired geologist, and eccentric, such as self-styled "Duchess of Newlyn" Pat, Ash succeeds in bringing the town vividly to life. While Ash explains her connection to the area--her mother grew up nearby and named her for local landmark Lamorna Cove--she shows how she gained a new understanding of it through firsthand experience with the fishing industry that provides Newlyn's lifeblood. Her activities include observing fish graders rate a catch for auction, riding along on crab-fishing dayboats, and taking a weeklong voyage on a trawler, at the end of which she at last feels like a member of the community. Writing that "the consumer can know nothing of the pranks, the storms and the struggles that their weekly fish supper has been privy to," Ash leaves readers with a lasting impression of the toil, elation, and sadness faced by her subjects. Ash's remarkably empathetic take on a small town and its outsized contribution to the fishing industry is one to savor. Agent: Cathryn Summerhayes, Curtis Brown. (Dec.)

In this debut work, education worker and playwright Ash recounts leaping on a fishing vessel and learning the trade to chronicle the fate of a small Cornish village and a way of life that's dying. With a 30,000-copy first printing.

A Londoner goes to sea. Making an engaging book debut, Ash offers a gently told memoir recounting several extended visits to Newlyn, a Cornwall fishing village to which she feels "unwittingly bound": Her mother was born there and named Lamorna for a small local cove. Ash captures the color and rhythms of a close-knit community where life, livelihood, and death center on the sea, and "if there is a case one person believes in, it rapidly becomes a village-wide concern." Generously welcomed by fishermen and supplied with seasickness pills, she embarked on day-boats and trawlers, sometimes for days at a time. She learned to gut, fillet, and box fish, tasks--such as stabbing a huge stingray in its heart--that sometimes left her repulsed. "My physical connection to those fish," she admits, "the literal opening of their bodies and directing my attention to the secrets inside of them, engenders a permanent change to the way I view fish when back on land." For the 20-something Londoner, life at sea seemed to be "a kind of monastic existence: imprisoned and yet free, roaming, but in the most confined space possible." In evocative detail, she depicts the unique personality of each boat--"the particular wheezing, spluttery cough of each engine"--and each fisherman, some of whom became her confidants; others, drinking buddies. Younger fishermen, especially, expressed their urgent concern with sustainability and worry about humankind's "potentially devastating impact on the oceans." Ash deftly weaves her own reflections with those of many other writers, including W.G. Sebald, Elizabeth Bishop, Walter Benjamin, Virginia Woolf, Simone Weil, and Barry Lopez, as she considers the indelible connection of identity to geography. "Though your body is in the harbour once more," she notes, after getting back on land, "for a long time your mind is still at sea." A graceful, lovely homage to people and place. Copyright (c) Kirkus Reviews, used with permission.