Time and tide and the vagaries
of my Seattle Public Library hold queue simultaneously washed up three books
related to boats. And so I have spent the last few weeks at sea, drifting away
on the sea of words. I have no special knowledge of boats, or of the sea, but
as an armchair sailor, these three titles delivered hours of entertaining
reading.
For years, literally, friends
have been recommending The Boys in the
Boat, by Daniel James Brown, but I kept putting off reading it. Non-fiction
books about sports and Nazis are, quite frankly, pretty much at the bottom of
my interest list. The recommendations, however, kept coming and finally it was
just easier to read the thing than listen to another word of praise. I can’t
believe it took me so long. This book is remarkable! The story of the underdog
University of Washington crew team and their bid for gold at the 1936 Berlin
Olympics is exciting by itself. Add to this the historical background
of Seattle during the Depression and the rise of Hitler’s power in Germany and
the book takes on a larger dimension. But what the author does best of all is
get into the minds and aching muscles of the crew. The heart-breakingly
difficult personal story of Joe Rantz gives a sharper focus to the historical
background. Brown’s vivid writing elevates the book beyond the ordinary sports
account and brings each oar stroke, each race, and each triumph dynamically
alive for the reader.
The Plover, by Brian Doyle, is a very different sort of book, a
kind of road trip by boat across the Pacific. It starts out with one man,
Declan O Donnell, escaping his life in Oregon and ends up with nine passengers,
not counting the resident herring gull, tiny warbler, snails and all the other
creatures who attach themselves to the tiny Plover.
All in need of healing. Some are literally burnt, all emotionally scarred. The
most touching character is the little girl Pipa, damaged in a bus accident and
silent for 4 years until the herring
gull magically, mystically, “opens” her and she is able to speak again. Literary
in its roots (think Melville, Stevenson and Coleridge), and peppered with
quotes from Declan’s favorite writer, Edmund Burke, The Plover could easily sink under the weight of its concept, but
Doyle keeps it flowing smoothly with his lyrical writing style and humorous
asides. The gull is especially useful for comic relief as when Declan address
the gull at the beginning of the story: “You are most definitely not a metaphor,
my friend.” Though not as rich and complex at Doyle’s earlier novel, Mink River, The Plover is a heart-felt celebration of life’s various journeys.
Before it became a cannibal-rat infested
ghost ship (really, you can Google it!) I had the pleasure of taking a cruise
on the Lyubov Orlova. Though the
plight of this modern ship generated some media interest, it is a far cry from
the sensation the derelict ship Mary
Celeste caused in 1872. The ship was found unmanned and abandoned, but
still in seaworthy condition with plenty of food onboard. Taking as her
starting point what little is known about the historical ship, Valerie Martin mixes fact and imagination to explore ideas of loss, grief and the power of storytelling in her speculative novel, The Ghost of the Mary Celeste. In her book, as he did in real life, the writer Arthur
Conan Doyle hears the mystery of the Mary
Celeste while at sea and uses it as the basis for a fabricated story. That
story is read by the American psychic Violet Petra, who later meets Doyle to
tell him that his story is incorrect and that she knows the family involved. In
her possession is the journal, written by Sarah, the wife of the missing
captain. These various stories are woven together by Valerie Martin into a multi-layered and complex text, switching back and forth in time and from the various
characters. It is complex and rewarding reading.
Now go
look up cannibal-rat infested ghost ships. You know you want to.
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