Water

Silent water laps the shores. It takes without mercy, but at the same time purifies and reborn.

He sails to one of the Aran Islands off the west coast of Ireland, changes his name and settles in a simple house far from the curious villagers. He wants to cut himself off from his Dublin past by taking up hermitage in the furthest reaches of his homeland, and to prove it, he repentantly shaves his head. But fifty-three-year-old Vanessa Carvin - now Willow Hale - did not retreat here from the arm of justice that has already intervened. She fled here in the knowledge of her complicity, which the court did not take into account, and left her to take the moral punishment upon herself. The decently well-off Vanessa has made one fatal mistake in her life: she had overlooked something important, and it was only a series of unfortunate events that made her realize that her younger daughter's drowning was no accident.  

This spellbinding study of a woman in deep crisis is based on the confession of a narrator with the character of an unobtrusive and now methodical observer. Vanessa is a willow to herself and at the same time, like still water, she undermines everything that is not solid, even if it is the very temple of faith in so-called proven conservative values. And so he surrenders to the tide of the waters that wash over Ireland, for he recognises how much chance of rebirth can be drawn from their current.

Through this recap, John Boyne, the champion of the weak and overlooked, launches a loose novel tetralogy in honour of the four elements of nature that always triumph over human fame on his native "green island".

Published in co-edition with Slovart Publishing House.

"An empathetic, moving exploration of a soul who feels complicit in a family tragedy and could drown in unspeakable grief. But if he utters it, he will not perish." - Mail on Sunday

"Less is more, especially at a time when the gift of eloquence has melted into shallowness. We read the author's quietest novel, almost watercolour in expression, and yet we feel that it is as intense a work as Boyne's dramatically sweeping canvases." - The Guardian

"I examine the house and decide that it is quite adequate for my needs. The photos I looked at online didn't lie in terms of austerity. The front door leads directly into the living room, where the kitchen is built. Then there's a bedroom with a bed for one - how strange it will be to sleep like a child again - and a tiny bathroom with no shower. Around the cold and hot water taps is strung an unsightly rubber handle, which I immediately take off and store in the cabinet under the sink. The roof does not seem to leak, as there is no trace of damp spots on the stone floor after regular contact with water. The simple, almost monastic spirit of this place pleases me. It's a far cry from what I'm used to." -excerpt from text