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Slip of a Fish
Ash collects words, climbs trees and swims in a deserted lake with her beloved seven-year-old, Charlie. Bemused by everyday life, she has a rich and singular interior world. Over the course of a relentlessly hot summer, Charlie begins to pull away, and in a desperate attempt to reconnect with her daughter Ash does something unforgivable. As the gulf between them grows, Ash’s life begins to slip out of her hold.
Winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize, Slip of a Fish is a joyously artful and quietly devastating portrait of motherhood, loss and love, in all its kaleidoscopic complexity.
Winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize, Slip of a Fish is a joyously artful and quietly devastating portrait of motherhood, loss and love, in all its kaleidoscopic complexity.
228 pages, Paperback
First published October 23, 2018
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February 27, 2025
Now shortlisted for the 2019 Goldsmith Prize and re-read as a result.
And Other Stories is a small UK publisher which “publishes some of the best in contemporary writing, including many translations� and aims “to push people’s reading limits and help them discover authors of adventurous and inspiring writing�. They are set up as a not-for-profit Community Interest Company and operate on a subscriber model � with subscribers (of which they now have around 1000 in 40 countries) committing in advance to enable the publication of future books. This was one of the books to which I subscribed � and it is always pleasing to feel one has contributed, in a very small way, to facilitating a work of art.
And Other Stories is an appropriate title for a publisher which aims to increase diversity in the publishing industry:
Famously and admirably, And Other Stories were the only publisher to respond to Kamilia Shamsie (subsequent winner of the 2018 Women’s Prize)’s 2016 challenge to only publish books by women in 2018.
Further, having moved from High Wycombe to Sheffield in 2016, they have made a commitment to counterbalancing what they see as the London-centric bias in publishing.
And as part of this commitment they conceived a Northern Book prize “awarded to an unpublished book-length work of ambitious literary fiction either written by a writer living in the North of England or by a writer who has a strong connection to the North� � a book they then publish as part of the prize.
This book was the winner of the inaugural book prize.
The author has I am sure drawn on her Neuropsychology degree in crafting the character of Ash, the first person narrator at the centre of the novel. Ash could be described as a vulnerable adult, who (as the opening quote suggests) is not prepared to make herself vulnerable � struggling to open up to those around her, her interior life being much richer than her exterior one.
Ash lives with her seven year old child Charlie, and her partner Abbott. The small cast of other characters include: Lynn, the mother of one of Charlie’s schoolfriends; Ash’s now-dead father who seems to have bought her up as a single parent; her elderly neighbour Joan; a yoga teacher of hers Kate.
We are used in literature now to the autistic/Asperger’s type character � taking refuge in numbers and patterns and collections; unable to identify with or understand the emotions and feelings of those around them � but this is a new voice.
Ash although having a fascination with numbers (for example asking something twice because two is the first prime and counting the Fibonacci sequence when stressed) takes internal refuge in language � loving to consider the sounds of words, playing with homonyms. Words can, if they possess sufficient merit, be added to her word collection.
However she finds words as used by others slippery and sometimes untrustworthy. Many of her struggles with understanding those around her also relate to language � and the often careless way in which they use it; she struggles in particular with the inherent contradiction between the linear nature of time and the circular way in which we measure it.
And this confluence of linearity and circularity lies at the heart of her narrative � circling around common ideas and key incidents, returning to them, time and again to start to examine them, their meaning, her own intentions, the reaction of others, the impossibility of undoing them and the way in which as she remembers them she knows what is coming leaving her Waiting for something that has already happened�
These incidents include some that took place over a hot Summer � a brief affair with Kate, an incident with Charlie that Ash is seemingly trying to justify to herself as not ill-intentioned; others further back � the closeness of her relationship to her own father; and others seemingly more recent: with Lynn taking an increasingly prominent role in their family live as Abbott seems to feel Ash needs to be given space from her rather neglectful parenting of Charlie.
As her thoughts circle around � other common images and themes are interwoven: swimming � Ash loves swimming in a nearby deserted lake and is fascinated by breathing underwater and the rythym of strokes and breathing; an Ash tree that Ash and Abbott have adopted as their own; migratory birds � and their relationship to the way in which people (Ash’s mother, Joan) leave her life and the possibility or impossibility of them returning; the unending days of Northern Summers � Ash and Abbott watch a film set in Northern Finland on their first date and then Ash becomes obsessed firstly with the towns inside the arctic circle and later with an unnamed novel set in the Fjord’s (which is Jon Fosse’s “Aliss at the Fire�); sexuality and ambiguous sexual identity; hair colour and length; the poems of Walt Whitman and Keats.
And while I have said that she examines past incidents � her approach increasingly becomes one of avoidance � shying clear of a full examination of the incidents, leading an ambiguity not just in our own understanding of what occurred but in a reluctance on her own behalf to confront reality. And this avoidance and incompleteness is echoed in the text as ideas, then paragraphs and eventually sentences are left incomplete.
Further, Ash’s own seeming mental breakdown (as seen by the reaction of Abbott) is accompanied by an increasing breakdown of her language, and a greater retreat into the repetition of words and sounds for their own sake � although the author has gradually and gently introduced us to Ash’s interior so that we are able to accompany her on her difficult journey and its even more difficult ending.
This is a worth first winner of the Northern Book Prize - an ambitious novel and a very promising debut: one that brings what I think is a different voice to literature, while dealing sensitively and empathetically with difficult topics of generational abuse and trauma, and one which inventively disassembles language to capture its very themes and ideas.
‘Didn’t you feel vulnerable out there in the water?� Kate asked.
Papa used the word vulnerable too, but it had three syllables when he said it. He only ever used it when he told me about birds, and once when he was talking about Mama, but he wasn’t talking to me.
Kate used it all the time. Vul-ner-a-ble, vul-ner-a-ble. She used it the way most people use adjectives like good or nice.
‘Let people know what’s going on in that head of yours. Ash. Be vulnerable.�
But how do you do that? How do you make yourself into any adjective?
And Other Stories is a small UK publisher which “publishes some of the best in contemporary writing, including many translations� and aims “to push people’s reading limits and help them discover authors of adventurous and inspiring writing�. They are set up as a not-for-profit Community Interest Company and operate on a subscriber model � with subscribers (of which they now have around 1000 in 40 countries) committing in advance to enable the publication of future books. This was one of the books to which I subscribed � and it is always pleasing to feel one has contributed, in a very small way, to facilitating a work of art.
And Other Stories is an appropriate title for a publisher which aims to increase diversity in the publishing industry:
Famously and admirably, And Other Stories were the only publisher to respond to Kamilia Shamsie (subsequent winner of the 2018 Women’s Prize)’s 2016 challenge to only publish books by women in 2018.
Further, having moved from High Wycombe to Sheffield in 2016, they have made a commitment to counterbalancing what they see as the London-centric bias in publishing.
And as part of this commitment they conceived a Northern Book prize “awarded to an unpublished book-length work of ambitious literary fiction either written by a writer living in the North of England or by a writer who has a strong connection to the North� � a book they then publish as part of the prize.
This book was the winner of the inaugural book prize.
The author has I am sure drawn on her Neuropsychology degree in crafting the character of Ash, the first person narrator at the centre of the novel. Ash could be described as a vulnerable adult, who (as the opening quote suggests) is not prepared to make herself vulnerable � struggling to open up to those around her, her interior life being much richer than her exterior one.
Ash lives with her seven year old child Charlie, and her partner Abbott. The small cast of other characters include: Lynn, the mother of one of Charlie’s schoolfriends; Ash’s now-dead father who seems to have bought her up as a single parent; her elderly neighbour Joan; a yoga teacher of hers Kate.
We are used in literature now to the autistic/Asperger’s type character � taking refuge in numbers and patterns and collections; unable to identify with or understand the emotions and feelings of those around them � but this is a new voice.
Ash although having a fascination with numbers (for example asking something twice because two is the first prime and counting the Fibonacci sequence when stressed) takes internal refuge in language � loving to consider the sounds of words, playing with homonyms. Words can, if they possess sufficient merit, be added to her word collection.
However she finds words as used by others slippery and sometimes untrustworthy. Many of her struggles with understanding those around her also relate to language � and the often careless way in which they use it; she struggles in particular with the inherent contradiction between the linear nature of time and the circular way in which we measure it.
I’m trying to trick myself into swimming forever.
I got the idea form the clock. The way it goes round and round and never shows more than twelve, because what would the time be now if it had gone beyond twelve and kept on going? Where would it go, I mean, where would it end, a clock like that?
And this confluence of linearity and circularity lies at the heart of her narrative � circling around common ideas and key incidents, returning to them, time and again to start to examine them, their meaning, her own intentions, the reaction of others, the impossibility of undoing them and the way in which as she remembers them she knows what is coming leaving her Waiting for something that has already happened�
These incidents include some that took place over a hot Summer � a brief affair with Kate, an incident with Charlie that Ash is seemingly trying to justify to herself as not ill-intentioned; others further back � the closeness of her relationship to her own father; and others seemingly more recent: with Lynn taking an increasingly prominent role in their family live as Abbott seems to feel Ash needs to be given space from her rather neglectful parenting of Charlie.
As her thoughts circle around � other common images and themes are interwoven: swimming � Ash loves swimming in a nearby deserted lake and is fascinated by breathing underwater and the rythym of strokes and breathing; an Ash tree that Ash and Abbott have adopted as their own; migratory birds � and their relationship to the way in which people (Ash’s mother, Joan) leave her life and the possibility or impossibility of them returning; the unending days of Northern Summers � Ash and Abbott watch a film set in Northern Finland on their first date and then Ash becomes obsessed firstly with the towns inside the arctic circle and later with an unnamed novel set in the Fjord’s (which is Jon Fosse’s “Aliss at the Fire�); sexuality and ambiguous sexual identity; hair colour and length; the poems of Walt Whitman and Keats.
And while I have said that she examines past incidents � her approach increasingly becomes one of avoidance � shying clear of a full examination of the incidents, leading an ambiguity not just in our own understanding of what occurred but in a reluctance on her own behalf to confront reality. And this avoidance and incompleteness is echoed in the text as ideas, then paragraphs and eventually sentences are left incomplete.
Further, Ash’s own seeming mental breakdown (as seen by the reaction of Abbott) is accompanied by an increasing breakdown of her language, and a greater retreat into the repetition of words and sounds for their own sake � although the author has gradually and gently introduced us to Ash’s interior so that we are able to accompany her on her difficult journey and its even more difficult ending.
This is a worth first winner of the Northern Book Prize - an ambitious novel and a very promising debut: one that brings what I think is a different voice to literature, while dealing sensitively and empathetically with difficult topics of generational abuse and trauma, and one which inventively disassembles language to capture its very themes and ideas.
October 22, 2019
Shortlisted for the Goldsmiths Prize 2019
This was Amy Arnold's debut novel, published by And Other Stories as a prize for winning the inaugural Northern Book Prize. It is an intensely personal and poetic book, and makes an interesting contrast with another of the Goldsmiths shortlist , in that both are essentially the inner thoughts of a mother with mental health issues, though Ellmann and Arnold have very different approaches, and this one is not in any sense political.
Ash and her husband Abbott have a seven year old daughter Charlie, whose ability to swim underwater gives the book its title. In the first part of the book we are introduced to the family, initially by a recollection of a film Ash and Abbott saw early in their relationship about a town in northern Finland's endless summer days. Lakes and swimming play major roles, as do a couple of books - by and by .
The narrative becomes increasingly fractured as Ash retreats into herself, dwelling on memories of a lesbian affair with her yoga teacher Kate that may or may not have occurred a couple of years earlier - Kate's appearances often have a ghostly quality and the story is introduced very gradually, and it is never entirely clear what is real and what is imaginary.
My ability to digest this book was somewhat hampered by reading it during a weekend away with friends - it is not an easy book to dip in and out of, as it is intense, a little repetitive and full of allusions.
Overall I was very impressed and this book could be a strong contender for the prize.
This was Amy Arnold's debut novel, published by And Other Stories as a prize for winning the inaugural Northern Book Prize. It is an intensely personal and poetic book, and makes an interesting contrast with another of the Goldsmiths shortlist , in that both are essentially the inner thoughts of a mother with mental health issues, though Ellmann and Arnold have very different approaches, and this one is not in any sense political.
Ash and her husband Abbott have a seven year old daughter Charlie, whose ability to swim underwater gives the book its title. In the first part of the book we are introduced to the family, initially by a recollection of a film Ash and Abbott saw early in their relationship about a town in northern Finland's endless summer days. Lakes and swimming play major roles, as do a couple of books - by and by .
The narrative becomes increasingly fractured as Ash retreats into herself, dwelling on memories of a lesbian affair with her yoga teacher Kate that may or may not have occurred a couple of years earlier - Kate's appearances often have a ghostly quality and the story is introduced very gradually, and it is never entirely clear what is real and what is imaginary.
My ability to digest this book was somewhat hampered by reading it during a weekend away with friends - it is not an easy book to dip in and out of, as it is intense, a little repetitive and full of allusions.
Overall I was very impressed and this book could be a strong contender for the prize.
December 27, 2022
She’s a swimmer, Charlie. She’s a bit of a fish, a slip of a fish. I can hardly think about her without thinking of water. There she is in my mind’s eye, half submerged. There she is, sliding away under skins of brown or green or yellow or blue. An arm here, a leg there, a torso, a head, appearing then disappearing.
Winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize and now shortlisted for the 2019 Goldsmiths Prize, Slip of a Fish is exactly what both awards, and the wonderful publisher And Other Stories, are about - fiction which pushes the boundaries of the form.
There are already three excellent reviews on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ from my fellow 2018 Republic of Consciousness Prize judges, who all appreciate innovative fiction from small independent presses:
Gumble's Yard: /review/show...
Neil: /review/show...
Jackie Law: /review/show...
and another at the White Review:
This interview with the author was also fascinating, particularly her admission that she herself is unsure of the narrator, Ash's, history or reasons for doing what she did, and that the novel was driven by Ash's unique voice:
I read Slip of a Fish immediately, and coincidentally, after reading the wonderful by Jon Fosse. Coincidentally because, early on this novel, Ash tells us about a book she recalls and rereads, one that features throughout her account:
I pulled it from the shelf. It was exactly as I remembered it; a small paperback, black, with a painted flame, one line each of yellow, read and white. I knelt down on the floor of Abbott’s study and read,
'Signe lies on a bench.'
That’s how the book begins. That’s almost how it ends too.
That book is Fosse's earlier work
And actually the book begins a little differently (the identity of the 'I' in the actual story one of the key mysteries of Fosse's novel):
I see Signe lying there on the bench in the room and she’s looking at all the usual things, the old table, the stove, the woodbox, the old paneling on the walls, the big window facing out onto the fjord, she looks at it all without seeing it and everything is as it was before, nothing has changed, but still, everything’s different, she thinks, because since he disappeared and stayed gone nothing is the same anymore, she is just there without being there, the days come, the days go, nights come, nights go, and she goes along with them, moving slowly, without letting anything leave much of a trace or make much of a difference, and does she know what day it is today? she thinks, yes well it must be Thursday, and it’s March, and the year is 2002, yes, she knows that much, but what the date is and so on, no, she doesn’t get that far, and anyway why should she bother? what does it matter anyway? she thinks, no matter what she can still be safe and solid in herself, the way she was before he disappeared, but then it comes back to her, how he disappeared, that Tuesday, in late November, in 1979, and all at once she is back in the emptiness, she thinks, and she looks at the hall door and then it opens and then she sees herself come in and shut the door behind her and then she sees herself walk into the room, stop and stand there and look at the window and then she sees herself see him standing in front of the window and she sees, standing there in the room, that he is standing and looking out into the darkness, with his long black hair, and in his black sweater, the sweater she knit herself and that he almost always wears when it’s cold, he is standing there, she thinks, and he is almost at one with the darkness outside, she thinks, yes
Arnold is not yet at Fosse's level, but then that would be true of most writers and the way Arnold took Fosse's work and produced a wonderful novel of her own makes this a highly worthy inclusion on the Goldsmiths shortlist. And while at times I found this a difficult read, struggling like Ash to grasp what was happening, Arnold is to be congratulated on a book that defies easy interpretation.
Winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize and now shortlisted for the 2019 Goldsmiths Prize, Slip of a Fish is exactly what both awards, and the wonderful publisher And Other Stories, are about - fiction which pushes the boundaries of the form.
There are already three excellent reviews on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ from my fellow 2018 Republic of Consciousness Prize judges, who all appreciate innovative fiction from small independent presses:
Gumble's Yard: /review/show...
Neil: /review/show...
Jackie Law: /review/show...
and another at the White Review:
This interview with the author was also fascinating, particularly her admission that she herself is unsure of the narrator, Ash's, history or reasons for doing what she did, and that the novel was driven by Ash's unique voice:
I read Slip of a Fish immediately, and coincidentally, after reading the wonderful by Jon Fosse. Coincidentally because, early on this novel, Ash tells us about a book she recalls and rereads, one that features throughout her account:
I pulled it from the shelf. It was exactly as I remembered it; a small paperback, black, with a painted flame, one line each of yellow, read and white. I knelt down on the floor of Abbott’s study and read,
'Signe lies on a bench.'
That’s how the book begins. That’s almost how it ends too.
That book is Fosse's earlier work
And actually the book begins a little differently (the identity of the 'I' in the actual story one of the key mysteries of Fosse's novel):
I see Signe lying there on the bench in the room and she’s looking at all the usual things, the old table, the stove, the woodbox, the old paneling on the walls, the big window facing out onto the fjord, she looks at it all without seeing it and everything is as it was before, nothing has changed, but still, everything’s different, she thinks, because since he disappeared and stayed gone nothing is the same anymore, she is just there without being there, the days come, the days go, nights come, nights go, and she goes along with them, moving slowly, without letting anything leave much of a trace or make much of a difference, and does she know what day it is today? she thinks, yes well it must be Thursday, and it’s March, and the year is 2002, yes, she knows that much, but what the date is and so on, no, she doesn’t get that far, and anyway why should she bother? what does it matter anyway? she thinks, no matter what she can still be safe and solid in herself, the way she was before he disappeared, but then it comes back to her, how he disappeared, that Tuesday, in late November, in 1979, and all at once she is back in the emptiness, she thinks, and she looks at the hall door and then it opens and then she sees herself come in and shut the door behind her and then she sees herself walk into the room, stop and stand there and look at the window and then she sees herself see him standing in front of the window and she sees, standing there in the room, that he is standing and looking out into the darkness, with his long black hair, and in his black sweater, the sweater she knit herself and that he almost always wears when it’s cold, he is standing there, she thinks, and he is almost at one with the darkness outside, she thinks, yes
Arnold is not yet at Fosse's level, but then that would be true of most writers and the way Arnold took Fosse's work and produced a wonderful novel of her own makes this a highly worthy inclusion on the Goldsmiths shortlist. And while at times I found this a difficult read, struggling like Ash to grasp what was happening, Arnold is to be congratulated on a book that defies easy interpretation.
November 8, 2019
Reading this book, you spend your time inside the mind of a mentally ill young woman. Her name is Ash. It is a stream of conscience. Initially it seems that she is just different in terms of her neurological wiring. But slowly you feel that is something darker, her emotional state and her capacity to live in a moment is unraveling. Her mind starts to go in big and small circles like the arrows of the watch she is constantly thinking about. And all this time, you are inside this mind. It cannot be anything but disturbing experience isn’t? But the author’s writing shapes it in something more than that. While reading it I’ve had two images constantly playing in my head. The first was ambience, this sense of light, velvet and penetrating at the same time, surrounding me with words, constant, but slightly changing its colour. The light of words. And the second, even more visual - Virginia Woolf in her last minutes, heavy stones in the pockets, slowly moving into the river. Total sense of foreboding. I do not know why, the text is not very much like Woolf’s writing. Maybe because of the atmosphere. What are the possible escapes from that place?
The book made me think of a few things. Firstly, does being good with words mean being able to communicate? Obvious answer is yes, it seems. The more versatile one is, the more options she should have to deliver the message, to be understood. But in reality it is not the case. Language and commutation sometimes seem to be the enemies of each other. Here in the book, the heroine simply lives in the world of language, but she is incapable to use the words to deliver any message. And when she sees a plain speaking (probably not very educated) neighbours, she is amazed how “smooth� they are with the words. But even without the extremes how often i find myself struggling for the fluency, for the freedom to express exactly my thoughts. And it never totally works. And I am sure, I am not alone in this.
I suspect, that many people would judge this book based upon its content, or, rather their interpretation of the content. Understandably, it is not all sunny. The inherent unreliability of Ash’s thoughts are amplified by the vividness of their imaginary. This leads to the variety of possibilities for the actions really taking place. Some of those possibilities, all very plausible within the context of the novel are very dark, shocking and disturbing. And here comes my thought which i have quite often reading recent novels and how they are perceived by the readers and even some critics. Obsessed with content, we forget to look at the text as a work of art, especially if the content is controversial. We are more forgiving towards the authors writing about something we find suitable to our views and aspirations, even if the text is mediocre. And vice versa, we often let the content totally overshadow the literary benefit of the text, its form, its aesthetics. I was reading Susan Sontag’s “Against the interpretation� recently. She talks about this phenomena in relation to the wider art. “What is needed is more attention to form of art� “how it is what it is, even that it is what it is, rather than show what it means�. She calls it “the revenge of an intellect over art�. I think it is even more so nowadays when a lot of the social issues and the identities previously underrepresented are taking their places in the literature. And sometimes it is the revenge of representation and shock factors over art rephrasing Sontag. Coming back to this novel, I hope it would not be the case. I hope the form of this text, its beautiful disorientating language and circularly structure, its open ended questions would not be overshadowed by the subject matter.
Another thought which this book prompted is about empathy. Especially the empathy while reading. There is this idea that reading teaches us to empathise better. I would not argue with this. However, sometimes it is presented as the most important role of reading. And this irks me a bit. Like this book for example, it would be the ideal playground for the empathy training. At the end, I’ve spent 200 pages or so in a head of another human being. But i do not feel any empathy. In fact I do not feel any sympathy even. I do not feel even sympathy to her partner, Abbot. In fact, I felt the frustration when he did not get her to the hospital, listened to her and did whatever she wanted instead. Do i feel sorry for her condition? Yes, but is strongly feel something inevitable being build around her in the text. And this ability to arose strong feelings, to raise questions, not to answer them - that is what I value in the literature. That and aesthetic pleasure I feel following a writer creating the object of art.
And to finish this review, one small observation about the language:
“Charlie, Charlee, light of my life. Always in my mind’s eye, half-submerged, sliding away, an arm, a leg, a torso, a head, appearing then disappearing.� - This is the last sentence in this book.
“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.� - The first sentence in the Nabokov’s book.
Is it just me? Or is there something here?
The book made me think of a few things. Firstly, does being good with words mean being able to communicate? Obvious answer is yes, it seems. The more versatile one is, the more options she should have to deliver the message, to be understood. But in reality it is not the case. Language and commutation sometimes seem to be the enemies of each other. Here in the book, the heroine simply lives in the world of language, but she is incapable to use the words to deliver any message. And when she sees a plain speaking (probably not very educated) neighbours, she is amazed how “smooth� they are with the words. But even without the extremes how often i find myself struggling for the fluency, for the freedom to express exactly my thoughts. And it never totally works. And I am sure, I am not alone in this.
I suspect, that many people would judge this book based upon its content, or, rather their interpretation of the content. Understandably, it is not all sunny. The inherent unreliability of Ash’s thoughts are amplified by the vividness of their imaginary. This leads to the variety of possibilities for the actions really taking place. Some of those possibilities, all very plausible within the context of the novel are very dark, shocking and disturbing. And here comes my thought which i have quite often reading recent novels and how they are perceived by the readers and even some critics. Obsessed with content, we forget to look at the text as a work of art, especially if the content is controversial. We are more forgiving towards the authors writing about something we find suitable to our views and aspirations, even if the text is mediocre. And vice versa, we often let the content totally overshadow the literary benefit of the text, its form, its aesthetics. I was reading Susan Sontag’s “Against the interpretation� recently. She talks about this phenomena in relation to the wider art. “What is needed is more attention to form of art� “how it is what it is, even that it is what it is, rather than show what it means�. She calls it “the revenge of an intellect over art�. I think it is even more so nowadays when a lot of the social issues and the identities previously underrepresented are taking their places in the literature. And sometimes it is the revenge of representation and shock factors over art rephrasing Sontag. Coming back to this novel, I hope it would not be the case. I hope the form of this text, its beautiful disorientating language and circularly structure, its open ended questions would not be overshadowed by the subject matter.
Another thought which this book prompted is about empathy. Especially the empathy while reading. There is this idea that reading teaches us to empathise better. I would not argue with this. However, sometimes it is presented as the most important role of reading. And this irks me a bit. Like this book for example, it would be the ideal playground for the empathy training. At the end, I’ve spent 200 pages or so in a head of another human being. But i do not feel any empathy. In fact I do not feel any sympathy even. I do not feel even sympathy to her partner, Abbot. In fact, I felt the frustration when he did not get her to the hospital, listened to her and did whatever she wanted instead. Do i feel sorry for her condition? Yes, but is strongly feel something inevitable being build around her in the text. And this ability to arose strong feelings, to raise questions, not to answer them - that is what I value in the literature. That and aesthetic pleasure I feel following a writer creating the object of art.
And to finish this review, one small observation about the language:
“Charlie, Charlee, light of my life. Always in my mind’s eye, half-submerged, sliding away, an arm, a leg, a torso, a head, appearing then disappearing.� - This is the last sentence in this book.
“Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.� - The first sentence in the Nabokov’s book.
Is it just me? Or is there something here?
December 10, 2019
TOP TEN ALTERNATIVE TITLES FOR "SLIP OF A FISH"
10. Long Amber Hair Twirls Round My Toes; or, The House Martins Return
9. Buzzing vs. Crackling: An Electrical/Ontological Discourse
8. Unnatural Naturally Yoga: The Kate Quin Years
7. Utsjoki: U before T, When Followed by S, Preceded by J
6. Charlie, Char-lea, Charlee
5. 228 Pages in Search of a Plot
4. 'Is This About the Chicken Goujons?'
3. Where the F%^ is My Copy of Leaves of Grass?
2. Putting Her Hand in My Granola Pot (If You Know What I Mean...)
...and the NUMBER ONE ALTERNATIVE TITLE:
1. Milkman 2: The Cream Curdles
On a more 'serious' note, if I am reading this mess correctly - and lord knows 99% of the time I hadn't a clue WHAT was going on - but according to the back cover: "in a desperate attempt to reconnect with her daughter, Ash does something unforgiveable", and we get one line late in the book, in which Ash sneaks into her daughter's room and she states: "We lay down and I opened her legs" (p. 220) ... so this whole thing is a paean to mothers molesting their own daughters? VERY SICK!!!
10. Long Amber Hair Twirls Round My Toes; or, The House Martins Return
9. Buzzing vs. Crackling: An Electrical/Ontological Discourse
8. Unnatural Naturally Yoga: The Kate Quin Years
7. Utsjoki: U before T, When Followed by S, Preceded by J
6. Charlie, Char-lea, Charlee
5. 228 Pages in Search of a Plot
4. 'Is This About the Chicken Goujons?'
3. Where the F%^ is My Copy of Leaves of Grass?
2. Putting Her Hand in My Granola Pot (If You Know What I Mean...)
...and the NUMBER ONE ALTERNATIVE TITLE:
1. Milkman 2: The Cream Curdles
On a more 'serious' note, if I am reading this mess correctly - and lord knows 99% of the time I hadn't a clue WHAT was going on - but according to the back cover: "in a desperate attempt to reconnect with her daughter, Ash does something unforgiveable", and we get one line late in the book, in which Ash sneaks into her daughter's room and she states: "We lay down and I opened her legs" (p. 220) ... so this whole thing is a paean to mothers molesting their own daughters? VERY SICK!!!
October 24, 2019
I first read this book when I received it as part of my subscription to And Other Stories. That was almost a whole year ago, so when it was recently included on the Goldsmith’s Prize shortlist, I decided it was time to re-visit the book.
This time through, I was, to an extent, guided by a quote from Virginia Woolf’s “The Common Reader� which a reviewer in The Guardian used as part of their review:
“Life is not a series of ... lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.�
As that reviewer points out, the author here is doing something “remarkably originalâ€�. As that review goes on to say, “Slip of a FishÌýis a quest to represent an anomalous and unknowable self from within that semi-transparent envelope.â€�
This means that at least part of this book can be difficult to understand. In the year between my first and second readings it so happened that I read “Ducks, Newburyport� by Lucy Ellmann twice. Ellmann’s books is very different in style and structure, but both these books aim to take us into the maelstrom that is a person’s subconscious processing life’s events both past, present and future. And the reality is that we don’t compartmentalise all of that but it is all there and all going on simultaneously.
It also helped that in the intervening year between reads I read some Jon Fosse because one of his books features here, which I probably missed first time through, as does Walt Whitman.
We spend this book in the company of Ash - see my original review below for more details. Once you realise that there are several key events in Ash’s life that dominate her thinking and that she is often thinking about several of them at the same time and that some of them she doesn’t really want to think about so her thoughts are vague, then the book itself starts to fall into place. It is not an easy read because you have to remember all of these different events and keep up with Ash as her mind skips around often merging different events in a single sentence.
But it IS a compelling picture of a troubled mind. It might be a debut novel, but it is worthy of its place on the Goldsmith’s list because of the new voice it brings and because of the powerful way it deals with some difficult topics. It really rewards a second reading.
---------------
ORIGINAL REVIEW
---------------
Slip Of A Fish is the inaugural winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize. This is a prize organised by the book's publisher, And Other Stories, and is
…an annual prize awarded to an unpublished book-length work of ambitious literary fiction either written by a writer living in the North of England or by a writer who has a strong connection to the North.
and it is part of the publisher's commitment to northern writers and to growing publishing in the north of England.
And Other Stories has also designated 2018 as its "year of publishing women", the only publisher to respond to Kamila Shamsie's challenge.
So, to the book.
Our protagonist is Ash, a woman with a partner called Abbott and a daughter called Charlie. Ash, it becomes clear very early on, is a troubled woman, one of many who have populated fiction recently. Ash collects words:
But I took impromptu for my collection. The m, the p, the t. The way my mouth had to work to get them out, that’s why I took it. Then, of course, the u. Unexpected, I thought. Completely unexpected.
She is fascinated by homophones and homographs, and playing with words is a strong narrative thread. She likens the lines of a poem to the feathers of a bird and the whole poem to the whole bird. There are, pleasingly for me, several ornithological details, all of which are correct.
Ash also has some obsessions. When we read "I asked her twice because two is the first prime", some warning lights go off. And Ash notes many times the way we use a repeating cycle of twelve hours to measure time which never stops flowing forward (Ali Smith has explored a similar idea in the first two parts of her seasonal quartet). In keeping with this, the narrative swirls around following several topics set at different times, some of which may be imaginary, which interleave and wrap around each other. We jump from one to another often in mid paragraph or sentence. The text includes a lot of partial sentences - one picked at random, when it is suggested Ash should grow her hair, is:
'I'd lose my strength,' I said. I'd be like Samson, but.
The other notable thing about the narrative style is the repetition. There are a lot of passages like this:
She was doing something inside the car and her T-shirt had ridden up and I could see where her jeans sat. I could see where they were sitting, on her hips, her jeans, that's where they sat, and her T-shirt had ridden up.
The way the narrative repeats and swirls around some central ideas, jumping from one thing to another, is an effective way of showing us the turbulence within Ash’s mind. At times, it feels like watching a tumble-dryer and not knowing quite what is going to tumble past next. Past and present are jumbled, fact and fiction are jumbled.
The way the story is told leaves the reader to fill in a lot of the details. There are the incomplete sentences (my example above is a simple one, but others are more related to the events of the story and the ambiguous endings invite the reader to imagine what happens). There are two key events, one in the past involving a woman called Kate and one during the book involving Charlie, and both are expressed allusively with some details gradually emerging but others left for the reader to fill in.
There is much to like in this book. I enjoyed the “incompleteness� of the writing, the poetry of many passages. I enjoyed the writing more than I enjoyed the story, and I imagine the writing style will be something readers either enjoy or hate: I don’t envisage many people being indifferent to it. Very little happens apart from the two events hinted at already and the overall effect is quite claustrophobic, which I imagine is intentional. Don’t read this for plot, but do read it for a “rich, linguistically dextrous� (Helen Mort on the back cover) story of the inner world of a troubled woman.
3.5 stars rounded down for now, but I might come back to that, mainly because I have not mentioned several things going on during the book that I need to think about.
UPDATE: I've slept on it and decided to move it to 4 stars. I haven't talked above about the role of Abbott, the swimming, the book of poetry, the book with the story set in fjord (the significance of Signe), the hints of gender fluidity and probably a few other things. It deserves more than 3 stars.
This time through, I was, to an extent, guided by a quote from Virginia Woolf’s “The Common Reader� which a reviewer in The Guardian used as part of their review:
“Life is not a series of ... lamps symmetrically arranged; life is a luminous halo, a semi-transparent envelope surrounding us from the beginning of consciousness to the end.�
As that reviewer points out, the author here is doing something “remarkably originalâ€�. As that review goes on to say, “Slip of a FishÌýis a quest to represent an anomalous and unknowable self from within that semi-transparent envelope.â€�
This means that at least part of this book can be difficult to understand. In the year between my first and second readings it so happened that I read “Ducks, Newburyport� by Lucy Ellmann twice. Ellmann’s books is very different in style and structure, but both these books aim to take us into the maelstrom that is a person’s subconscious processing life’s events both past, present and future. And the reality is that we don’t compartmentalise all of that but it is all there and all going on simultaneously.
It also helped that in the intervening year between reads I read some Jon Fosse because one of his books features here, which I probably missed first time through, as does Walt Whitman.
We spend this book in the company of Ash - see my original review below for more details. Once you realise that there are several key events in Ash’s life that dominate her thinking and that she is often thinking about several of them at the same time and that some of them she doesn’t really want to think about so her thoughts are vague, then the book itself starts to fall into place. It is not an easy read because you have to remember all of these different events and keep up with Ash as her mind skips around often merging different events in a single sentence.
But it IS a compelling picture of a troubled mind. It might be a debut novel, but it is worthy of its place on the Goldsmith’s list because of the new voice it brings and because of the powerful way it deals with some difficult topics. It really rewards a second reading.
---------------
ORIGINAL REVIEW
---------------
Slip Of A Fish is the inaugural winner of the 2018 Northern Book Prize. This is a prize organised by the book's publisher, And Other Stories, and is
…an annual prize awarded to an unpublished book-length work of ambitious literary fiction either written by a writer living in the North of England or by a writer who has a strong connection to the North.
and it is part of the publisher's commitment to northern writers and to growing publishing in the north of England.
And Other Stories has also designated 2018 as its "year of publishing women", the only publisher to respond to Kamila Shamsie's challenge.
So, to the book.
Our protagonist is Ash, a woman with a partner called Abbott and a daughter called Charlie. Ash, it becomes clear very early on, is a troubled woman, one of many who have populated fiction recently. Ash collects words:
But I took impromptu for my collection. The m, the p, the t. The way my mouth had to work to get them out, that’s why I took it. Then, of course, the u. Unexpected, I thought. Completely unexpected.
She is fascinated by homophones and homographs, and playing with words is a strong narrative thread. She likens the lines of a poem to the feathers of a bird and the whole poem to the whole bird. There are, pleasingly for me, several ornithological details, all of which are correct.
Ash also has some obsessions. When we read "I asked her twice because two is the first prime", some warning lights go off. And Ash notes many times the way we use a repeating cycle of twelve hours to measure time which never stops flowing forward (Ali Smith has explored a similar idea in the first two parts of her seasonal quartet). In keeping with this, the narrative swirls around following several topics set at different times, some of which may be imaginary, which interleave and wrap around each other. We jump from one to another often in mid paragraph or sentence. The text includes a lot of partial sentences - one picked at random, when it is suggested Ash should grow her hair, is:
'I'd lose my strength,' I said. I'd be like Samson, but.
The other notable thing about the narrative style is the repetition. There are a lot of passages like this:
She was doing something inside the car and her T-shirt had ridden up and I could see where her jeans sat. I could see where they were sitting, on her hips, her jeans, that's where they sat, and her T-shirt had ridden up.
The way the narrative repeats and swirls around some central ideas, jumping from one thing to another, is an effective way of showing us the turbulence within Ash’s mind. At times, it feels like watching a tumble-dryer and not knowing quite what is going to tumble past next. Past and present are jumbled, fact and fiction are jumbled.
The way the story is told leaves the reader to fill in a lot of the details. There are the incomplete sentences (my example above is a simple one, but others are more related to the events of the story and the ambiguous endings invite the reader to imagine what happens). There are two key events, one in the past involving a woman called Kate and one during the book involving Charlie, and both are expressed allusively with some details gradually emerging but others left for the reader to fill in.
There is much to like in this book. I enjoyed the “incompleteness� of the writing, the poetry of many passages. I enjoyed the writing more than I enjoyed the story, and I imagine the writing style will be something readers either enjoy or hate: I don’t envisage many people being indifferent to it. Very little happens apart from the two events hinted at already and the overall effect is quite claustrophobic, which I imagine is intentional. Don’t read this for plot, but do read it for a “rich, linguistically dextrous� (Helen Mort on the back cover) story of the inner world of a troubled woman.
3.5 stars rounded down for now, but I might come back to that, mainly because I have not mentioned several things going on during the book that I need to think about.
UPDATE: I've slept on it and decided to move it to 4 stars. I haven't talked above about the role of Abbott, the swimming, the book of poetry, the book with the story set in fjord (the significance of Signe), the hints of gender fluidity and probably a few other things. It deserves more than 3 stars.
October 28, 2019
I loved spending time in Ash’s head, the narrator of Amy Arnold’s award-winning debut. Ash is a neurodiverse character who doesn’t look at the world � at words, at language, at time � the way we do.
From the start of the novel, we learn that Ash collects words (“finding the right word is like finding the right pebble�). She adores homonyms (“poetry, poet-tree�). She plucks phrases from literature like feathers from a bird. In conversation, however, she falters. She envies others their facility with the spoken word. Observing another woman, she thinks:
“She had a lot of words. The ease of it, I mean. I mean, the way the words slipped out one after another. She was so used to words.�
Adjectives, too, give her trouble. When a yoga instructor tells her she needs to be more vulnerable, she despairs, “But how do you do that? How do you make yourself into any adjective?�
Naturally, much of Ash’s time is spent outdoors, alone, climbing trees, observing the migration of swifts and swimming in a deserted lake with her 7-year-old daughter, Charlie.
An episode of unnamed trauma, however, takes her words away (the source of this trauma is never fully revealed, only hinted at). As Ash unravels mentally, the text becomes more and more abstract, circular and opaque. Entering Ash’s world has always felt like swimming in murky waters � this becomes even murkier as the novel progresses.
Setting aside issues with the overly vague closing chapters of the book, this was a uniquely immersive and atmospheric read, one that I cherish for its unusual perspective and the ways in which it wrestles with the untamed and untranslatable aspects of our being.
Mood: Atmospheric, at times blurry
Rating: 9/10 for the majority of the book; 6/10 for the ending
Also .
From the start of the novel, we learn that Ash collects words (“finding the right word is like finding the right pebble�). She adores homonyms (“poetry, poet-tree�). She plucks phrases from literature like feathers from a bird. In conversation, however, she falters. She envies others their facility with the spoken word. Observing another woman, she thinks:
“She had a lot of words. The ease of it, I mean. I mean, the way the words slipped out one after another. She was so used to words.�
Adjectives, too, give her trouble. When a yoga instructor tells her she needs to be more vulnerable, she despairs, “But how do you do that? How do you make yourself into any adjective?�
Naturally, much of Ash’s time is spent outdoors, alone, climbing trees, observing the migration of swifts and swimming in a deserted lake with her 7-year-old daughter, Charlie.
An episode of unnamed trauma, however, takes her words away (the source of this trauma is never fully revealed, only hinted at). As Ash unravels mentally, the text becomes more and more abstract, circular and opaque. Entering Ash’s world has always felt like swimming in murky waters � this becomes even murkier as the novel progresses.
Setting aside issues with the overly vague closing chapters of the book, this was a uniquely immersive and atmospheric read, one that I cherish for its unusual perspective and the ways in which it wrestles with the untamed and untranslatable aspects of our being.
Mood: Atmospheric, at times blurry
Rating: 9/10 for the majority of the book; 6/10 for the ending
Also .
November 3, 2019
Beautiful and unsettling. Totally blown away by it.
December 10, 2019
Synopsis
A dark, and mostly obscure story about obsession, and personal anxiety. Abbott and Ash are a nightmare couple. Abbott fixates on Velux windows and wrist (core) watches. Ash has a whole range of issues which are indicative of mental illness, much of which is vested in her drifty relationship with her young daughter. All of which makes this a sad and tragic book. Guilt and suspicion (couched in sexual language) are never far from the surface.
Lowlights
There are too many seeming non sequiturs in the storyline
� What is the significance of Joan, and her gifts of bones for an adopted (thieved) dog?
� What is the significance of the feral neighbours who use a sofa as a street prop to simulate sex acts publicly?
� Pub with dog (Nelson) and man with hairy fingers.(66). The dog subsequently becomes the companion of the daughter (7 year old Charlie) for some reason
Historical & Literary
The Other Name: Septology I-II by Jon Fosse is directly referenced
Signe goes out on row boat in a storm and Signe waits. A boy of 7 who drowned.
This would have been meaningless to me (and was as I read it), but the link was picked up by Paul Fulcher in his review. /review/show...
There’s also reference to esteemed authors, by name: Keats; Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass) (93)(166); F Scott Fitzgerald. I was unable to link this literary canon to the storyline.
Author background & Reviews
The book was on the Goldsmiths Prize for challenging fiction, in 2019
Recommend
No. This book will only appeal to those people who don’t mind, and even enjoy, a succession of strange, unrelated fringe characters acting in incomprehensible ways; and a core occupied by a woman who may be evil, who is certainly troubled, and who never draws in this reader to try to understand her particular demons.
A dark, and mostly obscure story about obsession, and personal anxiety. Abbott and Ash are a nightmare couple. Abbott fixates on Velux windows and wrist (core) watches. Ash has a whole range of issues which are indicative of mental illness, much of which is vested in her drifty relationship with her young daughter. All of which makes this a sad and tragic book. Guilt and suspicion (couched in sexual language) are never far from the surface.
Lowlights
There are too many seeming non sequiturs in the storyline
� What is the significance of Joan, and her gifts of bones for an adopted (thieved) dog?
� What is the significance of the feral neighbours who use a sofa as a street prop to simulate sex acts publicly?
� Pub with dog (Nelson) and man with hairy fingers.(66). The dog subsequently becomes the companion of the daughter (7 year old Charlie) for some reason
Historical & Literary
The Other Name: Septology I-II by Jon Fosse is directly referenced
Signe goes out on row boat in a storm and Signe waits. A boy of 7 who drowned.
This would have been meaningless to me (and was as I read it), but the link was picked up by Paul Fulcher in his review. /review/show...
There’s also reference to esteemed authors, by name: Keats; Walt Whitman (Leaves of Grass) (93)(166); F Scott Fitzgerald. I was unable to link this literary canon to the storyline.
Author background & Reviews
The book was on the Goldsmiths Prize for challenging fiction, in 2019
Recommend
No. This book will only appeal to those people who don’t mind, and even enjoy, a succession of strange, unrelated fringe characters acting in incomprehensible ways; and a core occupied by a woman who may be evil, who is certainly troubled, and who never draws in this reader to try to understand her particular demons.
November 1, 2018
“I couldn’t think, couldn’t straighten my thoughts, couldn’t be sure�
Slip of a Fish, by Amy Arnold, won the inaugural Northern Book Prize which was launched by And Other Stories in 2017. It is an unsettling tale told from the perspective of a young woman named Ash who likes to observe the lives of others, to listen to them as they speak, but does not welcome their company in her home. It draws on memories from Ash’s childhood and the difficulties she is experiencing now that she is married. This is not in any way a standard offering. Ash is a troubled and often opaque protagonist.
The tale opens on a first date when Ash is taken to see a film set in northern Finland by Abbott, the man who will become her husband. Ash is affected by the idea of days spent in darkness, how for several weeks in winter the sun sits below the horizon. She wishes to add the name of the Finnish town to her word collection. Ash thinks often of language, of homonyms, and how difficult it is to understand feelings or anticipate other’s actions and reactions.
We learn that, back then, Ash could speak. These days she struggles to articulate the many and varied thoughts silently swirling around, travelling in tangents through her mind.
Ash and Abbott have a daughter, seven year old Charlie. Ash takes her swimming in a local lake where swimming is forbidden. Abbott would prefer them to use the local pool, and often they do, but Ash likes to see the sky, relishing the space, the peace and privacy amongst the trees with the water washing over her. She watches the birds, especially those that migrate. She ponders on time, the importance granted it: by Abbott with his newly acquired watch; by the people on the perimeter of her family’s lives. She feels disturbed when these people encroach.
Ash has learned to breathe under water and tries to teach the skill to Charlie. Over the course of a long, hot summer Charlie starts to pull away from her mother. Abbott is concerned about his wife and offers practical solutions to what he perceives as her problems. Ash regards his actions with suspicion.
There are references to Ash’s papa whom she appeared to love despite how he treated her. There are references to Kate, a yoga instructor whose relationship with Ash had a powerful impact. Despite her inability to express her feelings, in words or deeds as most would expect, Ash tries to draw Charlie back to her by showing her love in the only way she knows how. The rip tides of her life manifest.
These dark undercurrents of the story run deep, articulated sparely and often portrayed in metaphor. Telling aspects are revealed in small comments made by others. Ash fixates on certain books, on words and their potential meanings, but struggles to translate what is spoken into anything attributable to her.
The repetition in the writing brings to the fore the salient strands which feed Ash’s preoccupations and concerns. The fragmented structure adds to the tension and volatility of the narrative. The toxic elements of Ash’s life prove challenging to read despite being mostly kept shadowed. This is a powerful evocation of maladjustment and psychosis, its causes and consequences.
Slip of a Fish, by Amy Arnold, won the inaugural Northern Book Prize which was launched by And Other Stories in 2017. It is an unsettling tale told from the perspective of a young woman named Ash who likes to observe the lives of others, to listen to them as they speak, but does not welcome their company in her home. It draws on memories from Ash’s childhood and the difficulties she is experiencing now that she is married. This is not in any way a standard offering. Ash is a troubled and often opaque protagonist.
The tale opens on a first date when Ash is taken to see a film set in northern Finland by Abbott, the man who will become her husband. Ash is affected by the idea of days spent in darkness, how for several weeks in winter the sun sits below the horizon. She wishes to add the name of the Finnish town to her word collection. Ash thinks often of language, of homonyms, and how difficult it is to understand feelings or anticipate other’s actions and reactions.
We learn that, back then, Ash could speak. These days she struggles to articulate the many and varied thoughts silently swirling around, travelling in tangents through her mind.
Ash and Abbott have a daughter, seven year old Charlie. Ash takes her swimming in a local lake where swimming is forbidden. Abbott would prefer them to use the local pool, and often they do, but Ash likes to see the sky, relishing the space, the peace and privacy amongst the trees with the water washing over her. She watches the birds, especially those that migrate. She ponders on time, the importance granted it: by Abbott with his newly acquired watch; by the people on the perimeter of her family’s lives. She feels disturbed when these people encroach.
Ash has learned to breathe under water and tries to teach the skill to Charlie. Over the course of a long, hot summer Charlie starts to pull away from her mother. Abbott is concerned about his wife and offers practical solutions to what he perceives as her problems. Ash regards his actions with suspicion.
There are references to Ash’s papa whom she appeared to love despite how he treated her. There are references to Kate, a yoga instructor whose relationship with Ash had a powerful impact. Despite her inability to express her feelings, in words or deeds as most would expect, Ash tries to draw Charlie back to her by showing her love in the only way she knows how. The rip tides of her life manifest.
These dark undercurrents of the story run deep, articulated sparely and often portrayed in metaphor. Telling aspects are revealed in small comments made by others. Ash fixates on certain books, on words and their potential meanings, but struggles to translate what is spoken into anything attributable to her.
The repetition in the writing brings to the fore the salient strands which feed Ash’s preoccupations and concerns. The fragmented structure adds to the tension and volatility of the narrative. The toxic elements of Ash’s life prove challenging to read despite being mostly kept shadowed. This is a powerful evocation of maladjustment and psychosis, its causes and consequences.
October 23, 2019
Ash and Abbott's first date is to see a Finnish film entirely set during the long dark winter. Afterwards, Ash deliberates whether to add the name of the town to her word collection and becomes fascinated by Finnish summers, when it is light all the time. This episode gives us a good indication of how Ash's mind works; she collects words, not for their meaning, but for their sound and she dispels darkness by thinking of light. Ash may have some inherent learning or cognitive difficulty or she may be suffering from some mental trauma or illness, or both of those, which makes it difficult to follow her thoughts. She also returns to the same incident several times, sometimes adding to our understanding of what took place.
I can't say that I found this book an easy or enjoyable read, particularly when Ash's thought processes become less coherent later in the narrative, but it is cleverly and beautifully written and I will be thinking about it for some time..
I can't say that I found this book an easy or enjoyable read, particularly when Ash's thought processes become less coherent later in the narrative, but it is cleverly and beautifully written and I will be thinking about it for some time..
November 16, 2020
Well this is a book of horrors.
The blurbs on the back all seem to emphasize the word play & writing. Nothing, nothing, nothing seems to hint at the horrors inside which include affairs, child molestation, and... the protagonist killing her daughter. (My book club thinks the killing was unintentional, mostly, but still. The book is so fricking unclear on everything....) We all agree that the people who wrote the blurbs didn't actually read the book. They mentioned things like "Bemused by everyday life...", "quality of sentences", "A rich, linguistically dextrous portrait", and "disturbingly sensual". Uh. No. The mother killed her daughter. What bullshit descriptions of the story.
Pardon my ranting, but I'm pissed about this book.
The blurbs on the back all seem to emphasize the word play & writing. Nothing, nothing, nothing seems to hint at the horrors inside which include affairs, child molestation, and... the protagonist killing her daughter. (My book club thinks the killing was unintentional, mostly, but still. The book is so fricking unclear on everything....) We all agree that the people who wrote the blurbs didn't actually read the book. They mentioned things like "Bemused by everyday life...", "quality of sentences", "A rich, linguistically dextrous portrait", and "disturbingly sensual". Uh. No. The mother killed her daughter. What bullshit descriptions of the story.
Pardon my ranting, but I'm pissed about this book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
July 5, 2022
3.5 stars.
February 19, 2024
Uhm. Ok.
This was... An experience. Weird. Confusing and nonsensical at times. Sometimes heart-breaking. Sometimes unsettling. I still don't know entirely what I think of this book, but I'll try my best to sort my thoughts.
Ambience was the first thing I saw in this book. Nice words. Atmosphere. That was all. Then I started to think about Ash. She seemed different to me, sensitive, smart. Misunderstood by Abott, understood by Charlie. It made me sad to see how Abott and Ash are so different. They seemed to love each other at the beginning, I thought, how come they couldn't bring up the slightest bit of interest and dedication it would take to understand each other? I especially felt for Ash at the start, because her head was up in the clouds with things Abott thought were silly.
Then more was said about Kate and Joan and I thought: Ash just never realised she was neurodivergent and also a lesbian. She would've been better off with a woman who would take the time to understand her. But then...
But then. Then I went on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ to read some reviews. And I wished I hadn't because the reviews mentioned Ash being disturbed and the horrible thing she would do having to do with sexual assault. And then reading made me nauseous, because every time I looked at Charlie and Ash I could only think of the words I had read: "I opened her legs". And I hated it, of course I hated it. I hated how they had seemed like such a wonderful, complete duo at first; mother and daughter, both loving water and birds, going against the ticking of Abott's watch. But that's the whole point, isn't it? It seems good at first, and lovely. It's supposed to be a test of sympathy. It definetely was. And I hated it.
"You haven't been the same since" is something I'm still wondering about. Since what? What caused Ash to be the way that she is? I googled it and couldn't find it so I can only wonder. I suppose it had something to do with her father. He's mentioned so many times, in combination with loss and grief, and the fact that Ash could never be "his boy".
Something I loved: in the end Abott seemed to be taking everything away from Ash. The book, the tree trunk... To me, it showed how Ash was spiralling further into her madness.
This book had the writing style of a book that was meant to be enjoyed: it was so light and loving and natural (it was also confusing and dizzying and sometimes tiring but overall I liked the writing style). It was not meant to be enjoyed. Probably genius, but I didn't like the combination. The ending made no sense whatsoever. My emotions are going: ??????? And I don't know what to do. Four stars for moving me into ??????
This was... An experience. Weird. Confusing and nonsensical at times. Sometimes heart-breaking. Sometimes unsettling. I still don't know entirely what I think of this book, but I'll try my best to sort my thoughts.
Ambience was the first thing I saw in this book. Nice words. Atmosphere. That was all. Then I started to think about Ash. She seemed different to me, sensitive, smart. Misunderstood by Abott, understood by Charlie. It made me sad to see how Abott and Ash are so different. They seemed to love each other at the beginning, I thought, how come they couldn't bring up the slightest bit of interest and dedication it would take to understand each other? I especially felt for Ash at the start, because her head was up in the clouds with things Abott thought were silly.
Then more was said about Kate and Joan and I thought: Ash just never realised she was neurodivergent and also a lesbian. She would've been better off with a woman who would take the time to understand her. But then...
But then. Then I went on Å·±¦ÓéÀÖ to read some reviews. And I wished I hadn't because the reviews mentioned Ash being disturbed and the horrible thing she would do having to do with sexual assault. And then reading made me nauseous, because every time I looked at Charlie and Ash I could only think of the words I had read: "I opened her legs". And I hated it, of course I hated it. I hated how they had seemed like such a wonderful, complete duo at first; mother and daughter, both loving water and birds, going against the ticking of Abott's watch. But that's the whole point, isn't it? It seems good at first, and lovely. It's supposed to be a test of sympathy. It definetely was. And I hated it.
"You haven't been the same since" is something I'm still wondering about. Since what? What caused Ash to be the way that she is? I googled it and couldn't find it so I can only wonder. I suppose it had something to do with her father. He's mentioned so many times, in combination with loss and grief, and the fact that Ash could never be "his boy".
Something I loved: in the end Abott seemed to be taking everything away from Ash. The book, the tree trunk... To me, it showed how Ash was spiralling further into her madness.
This book had the writing style of a book that was meant to be enjoyed: it was so light and loving and natural (it was also confusing and dizzying and sometimes tiring but overall I liked the writing style). It was not meant to be enjoyed. Probably genius, but I didn't like the combination. The ending made no sense whatsoever. My emotions are going: ??????? And I don't know what to do. Four stars for moving me into ??????
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
January 15, 2024
In theory Slip of a Fish should be a book I would love: it’s experimental, has a distinctive writing style and discusses mental health but I did have problems with it.
Ash is a quirky person, maybe neurodivergent, but it doesn’t specify that explicitly in the novel. She is married to the rather boring Abbot and throughout the novel we witness her recollections of her past, her relationship with her father, more specifically her childhood, Things come together with an incident involving her daughter and swimming.
The text is circular and repeats itself a lot. I understand this is to capture Ash’s way of thinking but I found it frustrating (probably that is the point) but I it ruined my reading experience of the book. I’ve got Lori & Joe next and I hope that I will like it more.
Ash is a quirky person, maybe neurodivergent, but it doesn’t specify that explicitly in the novel. She is married to the rather boring Abbot and throughout the novel we witness her recollections of her past, her relationship with her father, more specifically her childhood, Things come together with an incident involving her daughter and swimming.
The text is circular and repeats itself a lot. I understand this is to capture Ash’s way of thinking but I found it frustrating (probably that is the point) but I it ruined my reading experience of the book. I’ve got Lori & Joe next and I hope that I will like it more.
January 15, 2019
A strange, disturbing, eerie, lyrical book that had me on edge. This is a book where words are paramount. They are collected and distilled throughout the pages. Cerulean, whorl, whirl, where the distinctions between whole and hole are teased and tested. The relationship between Ash and her daughter makes for disturbing reading, and the reader is constantly asking what was it that happened, as the narrative is framed around an event that Ash is struggling to come to terms with. Everything that happens, has happened since. The sentence always stops with since and we are left wondering, questioning. It darkens every one of Ash's relationships, and the unsettling nature of the relationships between parents and their children also sits uncomfortably in the centre of the novel. What must it be like to breathe underwater? What is the obsession with swimming, of counting in fours, the Fibonacci sequence. We see Ash's quirks, we understand that she struggles but we are never really told why. The book had me entranced.
January 20, 2019
Ultimately, I found this a frustrating read.
I think the author is someone to watch going forward, but the stream-of-consciousness, coupled with what felt like a fairly run-of-the-mill "bored middle-class, middle-aged white woman has lesbian affair" coupled with the mysterious "something happened" concept lead to one slightly soggy mess.
The writing itself is often beautiful, and the style is good -- reminiscent of Ali Smith -- but the story itself wasn't compelling enough for me.
I think the author is someone to watch going forward, but the stream-of-consciousness, coupled with what felt like a fairly run-of-the-mill "bored middle-class, middle-aged white woman has lesbian affair" coupled with the mysterious "something happened" concept lead to one slightly soggy mess.
The writing itself is often beautiful, and the style is good -- reminiscent of Ali Smith -- but the story itself wasn't compelling enough for me.
November 18, 2018
3.5 rounded up
"Slip of the Fish" is a short novel, but it is not an easy novel.
What makes "Slip of a Fish" difficult? It has an unreliable narrator, it skips around in time, it is repetitive, and it constantly circles around events, letting the reader get a peek at what happened every now and then, but never giving them all the answers to all the questions. While in some novels this could seem like lazy writing or copping out, there is a good reason for it in "Fish."
Ash, the POV character, is struggling, and her struggle is shown through the text. It is apparent early on that something isn't quite right with Ash. She seems very isolated and gets very fixated on people, words and ideas. She also stops mid thought or interrupts her own thoughts, bridging into related, but different, ideas which can sometimes be very uncomfortable.
One of Ash's struggles is with her sexuality. She is married with a child, but it seems to be mostly a platonic relationship or one convenience. Abbott, the husband, is a hard character to get ahold of. Most of the time he seems rather domineering, but at other times he seems like he's trying to make do with a hard situation. While Ash never appears to be sexually interested in her husband, she is sexually interested in Kate, a woman she had a brief but intense fling with, and who it seems cruelly taunted her during their time together. The affair may have ended, but Kate is still a major presence in Ash's thoughts. Snippets of their conversations turn up all the time, and Ash even goes to places she thinks Kate may be in order to see her.
The one normal, healthy, relationship Ash has is with her daughter, Charlie, as least for part of the book. The two swim together and spend a lot of time out in nature. Of all the characters, Charlie seems the most understanding of Ash, but at the age of seven she's also becoming more self-conscious and independent. In the course of the book there is an incident which happens between them. I have to admit I got a bit confused on when, exactly, this happened in the time scheme, which changes how the ending reads. I feel like I, and probably other readers, need a second reading to really get a grasp on what happened when.
I don't think "Slip of a Fish" is going to be a book for everyone, but it a sad look into a life which is disintegrating, a strong study in technique, and a promising debut from Arnold.
"Slip of the Fish" is a short novel, but it is not an easy novel.
What makes "Slip of a Fish" difficult? It has an unreliable narrator, it skips around in time, it is repetitive, and it constantly circles around events, letting the reader get a peek at what happened every now and then, but never giving them all the answers to all the questions. While in some novels this could seem like lazy writing or copping out, there is a good reason for it in "Fish."
Ash, the POV character, is struggling, and her struggle is shown through the text. It is apparent early on that something isn't quite right with Ash. She seems very isolated and gets very fixated on people, words and ideas. She also stops mid thought or interrupts her own thoughts, bridging into related, but different, ideas which can sometimes be very uncomfortable.
One of Ash's struggles is with her sexuality. She is married with a child, but it seems to be mostly a platonic relationship or one convenience. Abbott, the husband, is a hard character to get ahold of. Most of the time he seems rather domineering, but at other times he seems like he's trying to make do with a hard situation. While Ash never appears to be sexually interested in her husband, she is sexually interested in Kate, a woman she had a brief but intense fling with, and who it seems cruelly taunted her during their time together. The affair may have ended, but Kate is still a major presence in Ash's thoughts. Snippets of their conversations turn up all the time, and Ash even goes to places she thinks Kate may be in order to see her.
The one normal, healthy, relationship Ash has is with her daughter, Charlie, as least for part of the book. The two swim together and spend a lot of time out in nature. Of all the characters, Charlie seems the most understanding of Ash, but at the age of seven she's also becoming more self-conscious and independent. In the course of the book there is an incident which happens between them. I have to admit I got a bit confused on when, exactly, this happened in the time scheme, which changes how the ending reads. I feel like I, and probably other readers, need a second reading to really get a grasp on what happened when.
I don't think "Slip of a Fish" is going to be a book for everyone, but it a sad look into a life which is disintegrating, a strong study in technique, and a promising debut from Arnold.
June 4, 2024
I always wonder how they come up for the blurbs on books like this. The back makes it sound like a more general family drama, but in actuality it is a much vaguer character study of a person whose outer and inner worlds are in conflict and who can no longer keep up with this friction. The writing style is hypnotic, but I could see it turning off a lot of readers with its cyclical repetition. It deals with some pretty dicey subject matter, so I would warn away people who are sensitive to discussion of abuse. It also does a lot of gender questioning and while I don't think it is coming at it from a anti-trans perspective, I'm certainly not qualified to make that judgement call with any finality.
January 7, 2019
As a study of the disintegration of a woman's mind, Slip of a Fish is uncompromising and relentless. I admire the author's skill. Her daughter Charlie was though, to me, an insubstantial character, and I did not 'get' the relationship between mother and daughter which the blurb on the back of the book promised. Abbott, her partner, came in and out of focus. Perhaps that's as it should be, but by the end of the book I felt as worn-down as Ash. Did Ash ever have any kind of relationship with Kate, the yoga teacher? Perhaps that's an irrelevant question - the relationship existed in her mind, so it was real to her.
January 17, 2019
A work of art. I was totally blown away. This is one of the best books I’ve read in my life. It’s very rare that you read something so intelligently written and so spellbinding. Long after I’d put it down, I felt like I was still stuck inside the protagonist’s head. This book is courageous in stretching the bounds of literature. We should be supporting authors who are willing to take such risks. However, if you’re a fan of the mediocre writing often found in crime fiction and airport bookshops, this may not be for you. It reminds me of Jon McGregor and Ali Smith.
Read
November 23, 2019Not for me
September 27, 2019
The title of this novel is an apt one, as the narrative is indeed a slippery thing - it draws you in, you think you’ve almost got a grasp of it before it evades your grip once more and flutters away. But that’s not to say I didn’t enjoy it! I certainly did. It is reminiscent of Ali Smith’s work (and we all know how obsessed I am with Ali Smith), but sometimes the ‘almost-but-not-quite-there-ness� proved just a little too much for me.
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Our protagonist in A Slip of a Fish is Ash, a troubled woman whose life is centred around her rich interior life, her obsession with prime numbers, her collection of words, time and swimming, with her partner Abbott and child Charlie taking somewhat of a backseat to her inner musings. Throughout the novel, Ash grows ever closer to a breakdown of some sort, as she reflects endlessly on key episodes in her life, attempting to repress them as much as she obsesses over them.
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Past and preset merge together in the narrative, as Ash jumps between them sometimes even in the same sentence. She fixates on certain ideas and phrases, repeating them, making rhymes, changing the meaning, until it feels like the reader is lost in a sort of fever dream. Amy Arnold has a very clever way with words, and even when I felt a bit confused, I enjoyed being swept along in her rhythmic prose.
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Towards the end of the book, the tone shifts somewhat and becomes much more forthcoming and abrupt. As Ash’s mental state deteriorates, we lose the ends of sentences and the narrative skips around even more, which was an effect I couldn’t decide whether I enjoyed or found too jarring.
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An exploration of motherhood, sexuality and loss, A Slip of a Fish is a unique little novel that I won’t forget in a hurry, and I would be keen to read more from Arnold in the future!
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Our protagonist in A Slip of a Fish is Ash, a troubled woman whose life is centred around her rich interior life, her obsession with prime numbers, her collection of words, time and swimming, with her partner Abbott and child Charlie taking somewhat of a backseat to her inner musings. Throughout the novel, Ash grows ever closer to a breakdown of some sort, as she reflects endlessly on key episodes in her life, attempting to repress them as much as she obsesses over them.
.
Past and preset merge together in the narrative, as Ash jumps between them sometimes even in the same sentence. She fixates on certain ideas and phrases, repeating them, making rhymes, changing the meaning, until it feels like the reader is lost in a sort of fever dream. Amy Arnold has a very clever way with words, and even when I felt a bit confused, I enjoyed being swept along in her rhythmic prose.
.
Towards the end of the book, the tone shifts somewhat and becomes much more forthcoming and abrupt. As Ash’s mental state deteriorates, we lose the ends of sentences and the narrative skips around even more, which was an effect I couldn’t decide whether I enjoyed or found too jarring.
.
An exploration of motherhood, sexuality and loss, A Slip of a Fish is a unique little novel that I won’t forget in a hurry, and I would be keen to read more from Arnold in the future!
December 8, 2022
heel intrigerend maar ook echt disturbing boek. je zit in het hoofd van een vrouw die langzaam door het verhaal heen vastraakt in verschillende gedachtecirkels. er hangt onheil in de lucht maar je kan niet je vinger leggen op wat er nou precies gebeurt. echt een gek boek. je bent eigenlijk de hele tijd de kwijt kluts maar toch valt het allemaal samen? maar ook heel disturbing.
May 3, 2020
I adored this book! It's haunting, captivating and Amy Arnold masterfully twirls the reader around with her words, leaving us dizzy with admiration.
The novel focuses on Ash, an unconventional mother and wife who has difficulty holding onto reality. The way Ash consumes the world is bizarre and very unlike the normal surroundings she finds herself in. She becomes enthralled by words, stories and facts and these rotate cyclically around her mind making it difficult for her to stay focused in the outside world for long. She is besotted by her daughter, Charlie, and as the novel progresses and the dent in their relationship widens Ash finds it harder and harder to remain in the present.
The narrative is told in a first person steam-of-consciousness but it feels more structured than other novels I've read that also use this style. Arnold uses repetition to embed the fixations that Ash has - I can see why some people could find this difficult - but I found the way Arnold twists and bends the language utterly beautiful.
Ash is wild, "untranslatable" as she describes herself and obsessed with language and the consequences of time. She cannot understand her husband and his obsession with watching the clock. Of him she observes, "he says things like, leaving in ten. You've got five minutes. He likes saying them and I've never seen him look back at the minutes after they're gone". She much prefers to live in the past, reliving over and over again things that have happened days, months or years before.
There is a sense of foreboding throughout the novel - the atmosphere never quite sits right and I found myself constantly urging Ash to do something - anything to break free of the claustrophobia of normality. I didn't want her to lose her strangeness and so found her husband Abbott grating and controlling. As the story goes on, we understand that Ash is suffering from a form of mental illness - or we assume so at least - as it becomes clear that the setting for the story is at odds with the insight we have into Ash's magical mind.
Beautiful novel.
The novel focuses on Ash, an unconventional mother and wife who has difficulty holding onto reality. The way Ash consumes the world is bizarre and very unlike the normal surroundings she finds herself in. She becomes enthralled by words, stories and facts and these rotate cyclically around her mind making it difficult for her to stay focused in the outside world for long. She is besotted by her daughter, Charlie, and as the novel progresses and the dent in their relationship widens Ash finds it harder and harder to remain in the present.
The narrative is told in a first person steam-of-consciousness but it feels more structured than other novels I've read that also use this style. Arnold uses repetition to embed the fixations that Ash has - I can see why some people could find this difficult - but I found the way Arnold twists and bends the language utterly beautiful.
Ash is wild, "untranslatable" as she describes herself and obsessed with language and the consequences of time. She cannot understand her husband and his obsession with watching the clock. Of him she observes, "he says things like, leaving in ten. You've got five minutes. He likes saying them and I've never seen him look back at the minutes after they're gone". She much prefers to live in the past, reliving over and over again things that have happened days, months or years before.
There is a sense of foreboding throughout the novel - the atmosphere never quite sits right and I found myself constantly urging Ash to do something - anything to break free of the claustrophobia of normality. I didn't want her to lose her strangeness and so found her husband Abbott grating and controlling. As the story goes on, we understand that Ash is suffering from a form of mental illness - or we assume so at least - as it becomes clear that the setting for the story is at odds with the insight we have into Ash's magical mind.
Beautiful novel.
October 16, 2018
Amy Arnold is clearly a master of the English language. And it was her mastery that compelled me to read each page of this book. I was sucked into her poetry, prose, synonyms, homonyms and the whole (kit and kaboodle) interior story of Ash. But, then I was left bereft. Maybe I am not a clever reader but what was the terrible thing Ash did? Abuse her daughter? Kill her daughter? Also, I am not sure if Ash was living with ASD or if she had suffered a mental breakdown after her relationship with Kate (perhaps due to not being able to identify as a boy or a girl in her youth.) I was left with too many questions. I like to leave a book with a tear (or tear or many of each, you choose). This book could have achieved both easily. But I was left unsatisfied and wondering so much about it all that it lost the emotion somewhere.
October 17, 2018
Slip of a Fish was poetic, sensual and beautiful; simple yet overwhelmingly complex. It's about a mother and her daughter, it's about a woman's battle with her mind, and with her sexuality, it's about words and their dual meaning. Ash, our intriguing first-person narrator, approaches the world like a fish out of water - energetic, thriving, squirming. Amy Arnold's debut novel is honestly one of the best books I have ever read.
August 31, 2019
A stream-of-conscious prose poem that deserves a very careful read. Truly fresh literary territory here, but not for anyone expecting a light, simple read. Short on plot (duh) but rich in characterization and language. Beautiful at times, frustrating at others. I both liked it and disliked it at times -- such polarizing aspects means the author wrote an imaginative original piece.
October 5, 2020
Publisher ‘And Other Stories� looks to publish books which push and challenge the boundaries of writing. ‘Slip of a Fish� by Amy Arnold certainly achieves this. The action, such as it is, follows a mother over one long hot summer, as she withdraws into a rich and disturbing inner world. Hallucinatory and transgressive.
November 6, 2018
Hard going, and I thought at first I was hating it, but it grows on you, in a troubling, slippery, Girl Is A Half Formed Thing kind of way. Difficult, and will take a reread to try and capture the essence, but clearly impressive.
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