The North Water by Ian McGuire: A review

It is 1859. British whalers still make the annual journey into the North Water, the Arctic, in search of the giant mammals, but the industry itself is dying, killed off mostly by the discovery of the uses of petroleum.

The whaler Volunteer prepares for its trip to the dangerous realm of ice. Among the last of the crew hired for the voyage is Patrick Sumner, a former army surgeon just back from serving in India where he was disgraced and cashiered out of the army.

With no resources to fall back on and no prospects on land, Sumner seeks the job as ship's surgeon. He hopes that the icy cold of the north will be an antidote to the memories of disgrace in the unbearable heat of India.

One could be forgiven here for seeing Sumner as a kind of Ishmael, Melville's survivor from Moby Dick. I am probably one of the only college freshmen ever to actually enjoy reading and analyzing that classic in my first year English class. In fact, it is one reason why I chose to read The North Water. I had seen its comparisons to Moby Dick and also to Conrad's Lord Jim. Very like Jim, Patrick Sumner hides a shameful secret from his past and hopes for redemption. Instead, he finds a maelstrom of bloody savagery populated by brutal, cruel men who seem barely human.

Least human of all is the monstrous Henry Drax, one of the harpooners. He brutalizes and kills without remorse, both animals and humans. He is a devil incarnate with no redeeming qualities. McGuire describes him and his murderous activities in great detail. He is at the center of the action on the ill-fated Volunteer.

At some point, I completely lost count of all the atrocities committed on this northern voyage. We have the wholesale relentless slaughter of whales and seals and bears. We have men being bludgeoned by bricks and whalebones, producing "a fine spray of blood," a recurring phrase in this book. Two Eskimo hunters are stabbed to death as they sleep. An oarsman's arm is ripped off by a polar bear, creating another spray of blood. But the first inkling that Sumner and his shipmates have of the evil among them on the ship is the brutal sodomizing and subsequent murder of a young cabin boy.

Drax points the finger for the murder to the ship's carpenter, but Sumner, on examining the body and examining the carpenter is convinced that Drax is lying and eventually convinces the captain of the clues which make it impossible for the carpenter to be the killer. Drax is finally unmasked as the killer himself by a suppurating wound on his arm that is found to contain a human tooth. A tooth pulled loose from the cabin boy as he was fighting for his life.

Drax is put in chains, but the reader suspects that those chains will not be able to hold him.

As the Volunteer reaches its destination among the icebergs, we already know that this is an ill-starred journey and we are aware that there is an insurance scam afoot. In league with the ship's owner, the captain has a plan to scuttle the ship and be rescued by another ship that is in the area, thereby collecting a bountiful insurance payoff. What could possibly go wrong?

I generally try to avoid such raw, bloody tales as this. It's the main reason I've never read Cormac McCarthy, but having now survived this one, perhaps I should give old Cormac a chance. Also, I try not to read books that have abuse of children and animals as a part of their story. This one has both. Still, I cannot deny that this is a powerfully told tale. McGuire seems to be a natural storyteller and he keeps his plot moving at a rapid pace. The world that he has imagined here is altogether believable, although it is not a pleasant world and he sees life as nasty, brutish, and short, with a constant fear of violent death. One can understand why the book made many lists as one of "the best of 2016."

My rating: 4 of 5 stars

Poetry Sunday: Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver

How about we share another Mary Oliver poem? After all, you can never have too many of those. In this one, the poet seems to acknowledge that it is often hard to simply live in and enjoy the moment, perhaps because we are afraid it can't last. She urges us to give in to that moment and fully experience the joy. Although "much can never be redeemed, still, life has some possibility left." Don't Hesitate by Mary Oliver If you suddenly and unexpectedly feel joy, don’t hesitate. Give in to it. There are plenty of lives and whole towns destroyed or about to be. We are not wise, and not very often kind. And much can never be redeemed. Still, life has some possibility left. Perhaps this is its way of fighting back, that sometimes something happens better than all the riches or power in the world. It could be anything, but very likely you notice it in the instant when love begins. Anyway, that’s often the case. Anyway, whatever it is, don’t be afraid of its plenty. Joy is no...

Poetry Sunday: Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney

My mother was a farm wife and a prodigious canner. She canned fruit and vegetables from the garden, even occasionally meat. But the best thing that she canned, in my opinion, was blackberry jam. Even as I type those words my mouth waters! Of course, before she could make that jam, somebody had to pick the blackberries. And that somebody was quite often named Dorothy. I think Seamus Heaney might have spent some time among the briars plucking those delicious black fruits as well, so he would have known that "Once off the bush the fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour." They don't keep; you have to get that jam made in a hurry! Blackberry-Picking by Seamus Heaney Late August, given heavy rain and sun For a full week, the blackberries would ripen. At first, just one, a glossy purple clot Among others, red, green, hard as a knot. You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust ...

Poetry Sunday: Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman

You probably remember poet Amanda Gorman from her appearance at the inauguration of President Biden. She read her poem "The Hill We Climb" on that occasion. After the senseless slaughter in Uvalde this week, she was inspired to write another poem which was published in The New York Times. It seemed perfect for the occasion and so I stole it in order to feature it here, just in case you didn't get a chance to read it in the Times . Hymn for the Hurting by Amanda Gorman Everything hurts, Our hearts shadowed and strange, Minds made muddied and mute. We carry tragedy, terrifying and true. And yet none of it is new; We knew it as home, As horror, As heritage. Even our children Cannot be children, Cannot be. Everything hurts. It’s a hard time to be alive, And even harder to stay that way. We’re burdened to live out these days, While at the same time, blessed to outlive them. This alarm is how we know We must be altered — That we must differ or die, That we must triumph or try. ...

The Nature of Things

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