Open Water

Well, first and foremost - the hype is real. This book is an absolutely phenomenal debut by twenty-six year old Ghanaian writer and photographer Caleb Azumah Nelson. This short, beautiful novel has ben described as ‘a love song to Black art and thought’ and it truly is that. The narrative weaves together two young black artists falling through friendship into love in a world that hardens itself against blackness. Its poetic and powerful, with not one wasted word.

It’s really hard to narrow down why this book is so special, so I’m just going to go for three stand-out aspects for me personally; though there are many many more and every reader will find their own nuances to love. In no particular order then; the first and wholly mesmerising factor for me is Nelson’s command of language. His ability to describe feelings that have no words, to get in between your ribs and prise open a space to feel the complicated and vast layers of emotion he captures is just mind blowing. He staccatos and swerves and drifts, repeating words like a hook in a chorus but choosing to let them sink at the most poignant moment. His chapters are short and yet I wanted to take my time, savouring each fragment, wishing it wouldn’t end. I think this is also the first novel I’ve read in second person. By choosing to write his main character from the perspective of ‘you’, I - a white, female reader - could climb into his shoes (if only for a moment) to see through his eyes, feel through his heart, be looked at but not seen. It’s a very, very powerful linguistic tool and I’d love to read more fiction in second person.

Blood and bone across the water, across continents and borders. What is a joint? What is a fracture? What is a break? It’s all very difficult. Language fails us, especially when he doesn’t open his mouth. It’s all just, a lot. So she’s reaching into a pocket of time, where there’s nothing but heatwave blue, a summer in January, golden dust stuck between toes, the roar of a quiet body of water. Also, a thank you. She’s grateful.

Secondly; the context in which Nelson sets his novel - and bearing in mind that I’d just read Akala’s excellent ’Natives’ - makes this romance also a commentary on generational trauma and grief. It subtly brings to the forefront the humming, ever-present undercurrents of everyday racism and violence faced by black people, especially young black men, in London today. He provides an alternative narrative to the mainstream threads, unlocking sensitivity and fear; but also vast joy in community and culture. He relays back to cultural tropes - chicken shops in South East London, cheesy fries in Hackney, underground music venues and getting off the overground onto the tube. He references black art, music, books, poetry, politics - most of which I immediately researched and learnt about.

Thirdly - and this is a purely personal revelation - the main character in Open Water lives in Catford, which where I live! I read about this novel in our local paper ‘The Lewisham Ledger’ before I ever saw it on bookstagram. This is the first novel I’ve read that literally references the station I get off the train at, the shops I go to and the same roads I walk down. I felt the hot, heavy London summer in my flat as I read about it in his, and I felt connected.

That night you both get drunk and steal glasses from the bar. You tell her she deserves to be loved in the way you love her, and she starts to cry, quiet as rain.

I’d really recommend this book all round, I’m just all out of words to tell you how beautiful it is.

CW: Racism, Police brutality, violence, death, mental health, trauma, grief