BookBrowse Reviews Dark, Salt, Clear by Lamorna Ash

BookBrowse:

Lamorna Ash blends memoir with travel writing in this ode to the Cornish village of Newlyn, documenting its people's strong ties to the sea and their unique way of life.

Named after Lamorna Cove in her mother's rural home county of Cornwall (located in southwestern Britain), Lamorna Ash has always felt drawn to the area, despite having grown up in cosmopolitan London. Finally taking the plunge, she makes the move to Newlyn in an attempt to connect with her heritage, finding an unexpected sense of kinship with the local fishermen when they allow her to join them on a series of excursions out to sea.

Preconceptions would have many of us assume a young city dweller might be made to feel unwelcome in a remote village, subject to scorn as the only novice (not to mention the only woman) onboard the fishing vessels. Instead, it was heartening to see how welcome Ash was made to feel. The locals have an obvious sense of pride in their community, and Ash's desire to learn compels them to invite her in, soon seeing her as one of their own.

From here, Ash paints a vivid picture of the realities both good and bad inherent in the lifestyle of the ships' crews. On an individual level, many of the men feel emotionally unmoored, the long stretches of time spent so far from home disjointing them from "normal" life and the people they love. Having never known any other way of living, however, most of them feel trapped in a vicious cycle of longing for home when at sea, and itching for adventure when on land. More widely, the village is entirely dependent on the fishing industry economically and culturally, but gentrification, water pollution and strict regulations make it increasingly difficult for them to preserve their historic bond with the sea. On a more positive note, there is undeniable beauty in the rhythms of life on the open water — the fishermen have a linguistic shorthand and an unbreakable camaraderie uniquely their own. This grants them the sense of belonging they often struggle to find elsewhere as a result of their dedication to the job.

The writing itself has a lyrical quality to it, beautifully evoking a sense of place and the reverence Ash feels for Newlyn, its people and the majesty of the sea. That said, the author explains early in the book that in conversation, she has a tendency to speak excessively, straying off on tangents and offering up extraneous detail. This habit bleeds into her prose, the text sometimes feeling bloated and overlong as a result. Ash's intention is not to draw any groundbreaking conclusions. Instead, she aims to show that a place can have as much character and history as the people who live in it, capturing in words a way of life that is rapidly disappearing from villages across modern Britain. There is pathos in the realization that generations' worth of inherited skill and passion is under threat of eradication from external sources, but also hope that the knowledge, devotion and openness of Newlyn's residents may just be enough to save them.

This review first ran in the January 6, 2021 issue of BookBrowse Recommends.