Review: Open Water

 by Saffron Irons

"Language is flimsy . . . Language fails us, always."

This is a quote from Caleb Azumah Nelson’s debut novel Open Water. Although he believes language is flimsy, his language certainly does not fail. This is by far the best book I have read this year, with perhaps the most beautiful writing I have ever read. While on the surface, this short book follows the romance of two black artists in London, Nelson manages to explore a remarkable number of important topics in only 145 pages. He explores what it means to fall in love, what it means to be black in a city that in turn celebrates and rejects you, what it means to grieve, and most significantly, the importance of human connection. Despite the short length, it took me weeks to finish Open Water because it presents the type of language that takes time to settle in your mind. It is the kind of book that makes you pause after each sentence to fully experience the weight of what you just read and consider it in terms of your own existence. 

Caleb Azumah Nelson wrote Open Water after the death of his godfather, aunt and three grandparents, and the novel follows his own journey through this grief. He claims that his writing "came about as I was trying to afford my grief, and in turn myself, more form and detail. I didn't want to feel so hazy any more. So I was spending a lot of the time at libraries, galley spaces, cinemas, concerts, trying to go past the level of knowing, towards feeling, and asking where those feelings came from." This is clearly seen in the novel, as the protagonist wanders through London searching for experiences through love, friendship, dance and photography, living each day for what it is, and using these experiences to process his emotions. 

Perhaps the most striking aspect of this book is that it is written in second person. While it takes a while to get used to, this style of writing is devastatingly personal, placing the reading literally in the shoes of the protagonist. It makes every sentence feel as if it were written specifically for you, even if it could not be further from your own truth. Nelson says himself, "The book is written in the second person, so it's very intimate, and in that way when a question is asked, I'm asking both myself and the reader. When I'm asking, How do you feel? That question comes both ways." I think this makes the book unique in its reading experience as you connect with both the protagonist and the author in a way third person or even first person cannot emulate. 

A good example of this is a quote I have saved from Chapter 23: "Sometimes you don't know why you feel this way. Heavy and tight and tired. It's like the incomplete version of yourself is dialogue with the more complete parts." This is an interesting idea in itself, but the fact that the sentence is in second person causes the reader to pause and reflect on the words in relation to themselves, as the sentence is literally directed to them. 

The novel also provide a beautiful commentary on what it means to love. Nelson writes in the same interview "There's a level of vulnerability which love demands. To ask someone to see you is to ask someone to see all of you and trusting someone with all of you can be difficult. To see all this beauty and rhythm and joy, but also to see your uglier parts, your pain, your grief. But it's wonderful when it does happen, when you are no longer being looked at, but being seen." The theme of being seen emerges throughout the novel as Nelson explores human connection and the intensity of a relationship in which you both share a unique experience. The protagonist describes this feeling of seeing another, as well as that of being seen, through a mere look that is shared near the end of the novel: "The gaze requires no words at all; it is an honest meeting." Nelson also explores the way that relationships cause a deeper form of self acceptance and honesty within yourself. Another of my favourite quotes reads: "Love as a form of meditation, reaching towards a more honest expression of self."

The use of musical imagery in this novel is something that particularly interested me as a musician myself. Many musicians create music to encourage others to feel something when listening, whether it be love, pain, acceptance or sorrow, and Nelson acknowledges this fully, exploring the power of music in connecting humans. The book actually has a link to a Spotify playlist at the beginning which contains all of the music mentioned in the book as well as other music that inspired the author, and listening to this while reading makes it an even more immersive experience. There is a scene in Chapter 7 which describes going to a club as a beautiful form of catharsis:

"Dance, you said. Dance, sing, please, do what you must . . . look at your neighbour and understand they are in the same position . . . take one step forward as they take another back . . . let the trauma rise up like vomit, spill it, go on, let it spill onto the ground, let go of that pain, let go of that fear, let go. You are safe here, you said. You can live here . . We are all trying to live, to breathe, and we find ourselves stopped by that which is out of our control. We find ourselves unseen. We find ourselves unheard . . .  we who are bold and brash. We who are Black . . do not resist the call of a drum. Do not resist the thud of a kick, the tap of a snare, the rattle of a hi-hat. Do not hold your body stiff but flow like easy water . . . All that matters is that you are here, that you are present, can't you hear? What does it sound like? Freedom?"

Nelson also uses the extended metaphor of music beautifully to describe the relationship in the novel. He describes them as "a group of jazz musicians forever improvising . . . you can feel her heartbeat thudding like a kick drum. Your smile a grand piano, the glint in her eye like her twinkle of hands caressing ivory keys . . . A pair of soloists in conversations so harmonious, one struggles to separate. You are not the musicians but the music." After studying jazz music, I realise the metaphor of jazz music is extremely fitting. Jazz musicians play like no other musicians, improvising collectively, letting the music flow and shifting the rhythm and tempo as they please. To play jazz music, you must be completely in tune with the players around you, building on one another and trusting them entirely. 

Another reason that this book is so powerful is the commentary on race and what it means to be a young black man living in London. Nelson shows how the colour of a person's skin can change their reality so greatly, and affect the way they are treated by a whole city. There is a very moving scene in Chapter 12 in which the character is stopped by the police and searched while on the way to a friend's house. It is only one page of writing but it manages to capture the reality of racism in daily life. It begins "You leave an Uber . ..  Your friend's house is in sight", then describes the thought process: "You're thinking of good food and better company. You're in memory of something yet to happen when they stop you . . . They don't hear your voice. They don't see you. They see someone but that person is not you . . . They would like to see what is in your bag. Your possessions are scattered across the ground in front of you . . They say you are free to go . . You are hollowed out, like it was not just your bag they emptied."

The passage ends, "Your friend calls . . . you tell them something has come up . . . You call an Uber and go home." In such a short passage, Nelson describes the brutal truth of race and the effect it has on the lives of everyday people. How a person can go from anticipating an enjoyable evening, to experiencing something that leaves them haunted and only adds to the already building grief and trauma that they may be experiencing. The rest of the novel proves that this is not an uncommon experience, and the use of second person makes it all the more real. Despite this tragic scene, there are many moments in the novel where Nelson celebrates what it means to be Black and focuses on the connections he makes throughout London with other Black artists and communities. 

To conclude, Open Water is an extraordinary novel, a meditation on what it means to be Black, to e an artist, to be a lover, to be a son, to be a vulnerable human being who strives to be seen for what they really are, and to be somebody who looks for the small moments that make life beautiful. I would highly recommend reading this book and experiencing the immersive, philosophical language as well as the extremely powerful subjects.