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Waterline: A Novel
Meet Mick Little. He used to be a shipbuilder in the Glasgow yards. He used to be married to his beloved Cathy. But the yards closed, one after another, and the search for work took him and Cathy to Australia and back again, struggling for a living, longing for home. Thirty years later the yards are nearly all vacant and Cathy is dead. The ties that bound Mick to the past are loosened, and now he has to find a new way to get a new job, get out of the house where they raised their boys, and start again.
In his new novel Ross Raisin brings vividly to life the story of an ordinary man caught between the loss of a great love and the outer reaches of modern existence. Tracing Mick’s journey from the Glasgow shipyards to the crowded, sweating kitchens of an airport hotel to the streets and riversides of London, Waterline paints a vivid picture of the alienation of lives lived quietly all around us.
In his new novel Ross Raisin brings vividly to life the story of an ordinary man caught between the loss of a great love and the outer reaches of modern existence. Tracing Mick’s journey from the Glasgow shipyards to the crowded, sweating kitchens of an airport hotel to the streets and riversides of London, Waterline paints a vivid picture of the alienation of lives lived quietly all around us.
272 pages, Kindle Edition
First published January 1, 2011
11 people are currently reading
415 people want to read
About the author
Ross Raisin
12 books82 followersRoss Raisin is a British novelist. He was born in Keighley in Yorkshire, and after attending Bradford Grammar School he studied English at King's College London, which was followed by a period as a trainee wine bar manager and a postgraduate degree in creative writing at Goldsmiths, University of London.
Raisin's debut novel God's Own Country (titled Out Backward in North America) was published in 2008. It was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, and won a Betty Trask Award. The novel focuses on Sam Marsdyke, a disturbed adolescent living in a harsh rural environment, and follows his journey from isolated oddity to outright insanity. Thomas Meaney in The Washington Post compared the novel favorably to Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, and said «Out Backward more convincingly registers the internal logic of unredeemable delinquency.» Writing in The Guardian Justine Jordan described the novel as «an absorbing read», which marked Raisin out as «a young writer to watch». In April 2009 the book won Raisin the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award. He is currently a writer-in-residence for the charity First Story.
In 2013 he was included in the Granta list of 20 best young writers.
Raisin has worked as a waiter, dishwasher and barman.
Raisin's debut novel God's Own Country (titled Out Backward in North America) was published in 2008. It was shortlisted for the Guardian First Book Award and the John Llewellyn Rhys Prize, and won a Betty Trask Award. The novel focuses on Sam Marsdyke, a disturbed adolescent living in a harsh rural environment, and follows his journey from isolated oddity to outright insanity. Thomas Meaney in The Washington Post compared the novel favorably to Anthony Burgess's A Clockwork Orange, and said «Out Backward more convincingly registers the internal logic of unredeemable delinquency.» Writing in The Guardian Justine Jordan described the novel as «an absorbing read», which marked Raisin out as «a young writer to watch». In April 2009 the book won Raisin the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year Award. He is currently a writer-in-residence for the charity First Story.
In 2013 he was included in the Granta list of 20 best young writers.
Raisin has worked as a waiter, dishwasher and barman.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 57 reviews
August 7, 2014
Ross Raisin wrote one of my favourite books of last year, and indeed of all time, God's Own Country, so I'd had his second novel Waterline pegged as a must-read since its release. Although I found it equally impossible to put down - reading the book from cover to cover in one sitting - Waterline is a very different animal to Raisin's debut. Where God's Own Country was bleak, darkly funny and thrilling, Waterline is bleak, bleak, bleak. That isn't to say it's bad: it is an incredibly powerful and emotive novel and packs a punch like nothing else.
Mick Little is a middle-aged Glasgow cabbie, a former shipbuilder and father to two adult sons, one emotionally distant and the other literally distant (living in Australia). The book opens in the immediate aftermath of the death of Mick's wife, Cathy, which has affected him profoundly. Initially, the story explores Mick's attempts to come to terms with his grief: his struggle to make a connection with his uncommunicative son Craig, his retreating memories of Cathy, his pathetic, faltering attempts to look after himself. I have to confess that at this point, I was fighting off boredom and was unsure whether the book was for me. If you happen to read it and have the same concerns, stick with it - the plot gets far more interesting, and much darker, as it goes along. Written in the third person, but using Mick's own Glasgow dialect, the narrative follows our protagonist as he impulsively journeys to London and finds himself working illegally in a hotel. Mick's pride prevents him from even considering going on the dole to be an option, but increasing desperation to scrape a living forces him further and further down the food chain.
Occasionally, the novel dips into brief asides exploring the perspective of different characters. These characters are typically never heard from again, but the point is not that they have anything to contribute themselves - they represent the reader, or at least how the reader might view Mick if he or she were to step into the character's life without knowing any of his backstory. Through these snippets, we are forced to question our perceptions of the homeless and destitute - how many of us stop to think about how such people have come to end up in this desperate situation? The anonymous observers certainly don't, dismissing Mick as crazy, threatening or an object of ridicule, or simply ignoring his existence. While Raisin's narrative isn't explicitly making a political point, there is an undercurrent of political commentary which is presented as an integral part of Mick's working-class identity. I found it particularly poignant that the story highlights the importance of charity services - soup kitchens, hostels, support workers - in restoring some hope to Mick's life, at a time when many of these services are facing debilitating cuts in funding.
Devastating, shocking, moving, timely, significant - Waterline lives up to all of these superlatives and more, but it's a tremendously harrowing and difficult read. I think this is one of the reasons I powered through it so quickly: had I stopped, I might have felt too emotionally exhausted to go back to it. Because it was often hard to read and more thought-provoking than entertaining, I didn't enjoy this anywhere near as much as God's Own Country, but I think it is an important book and one that confirms Raisin's exceptional talent. I hope Waterline earns the author a clutch of award nominations, and I can't wait to watch his career unfold in the future.
PS: this excellent review by Alan Garner from the Guardian is worth a look - http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/...
Mick Little is a middle-aged Glasgow cabbie, a former shipbuilder and father to two adult sons, one emotionally distant and the other literally distant (living in Australia). The book opens in the immediate aftermath of the death of Mick's wife, Cathy, which has affected him profoundly. Initially, the story explores Mick's attempts to come to terms with his grief: his struggle to make a connection with his uncommunicative son Craig, his retreating memories of Cathy, his pathetic, faltering attempts to look after himself. I have to confess that at this point, I was fighting off boredom and was unsure whether the book was for me. If you happen to read it and have the same concerns, stick with it - the plot gets far more interesting, and much darker, as it goes along. Written in the third person, but using Mick's own Glasgow dialect, the narrative follows our protagonist as he impulsively journeys to London and finds himself working illegally in a hotel. Mick's pride prevents him from even considering going on the dole to be an option, but increasing desperation to scrape a living forces him further and further down the food chain.
Occasionally, the novel dips into brief asides exploring the perspective of different characters. These characters are typically never heard from again, but the point is not that they have anything to contribute themselves - they represent the reader, or at least how the reader might view Mick if he or she were to step into the character's life without knowing any of his backstory. Through these snippets, we are forced to question our perceptions of the homeless and destitute - how many of us stop to think about how such people have come to end up in this desperate situation? The anonymous observers certainly don't, dismissing Mick as crazy, threatening or an object of ridicule, or simply ignoring his existence. While Raisin's narrative isn't explicitly making a political point, there is an undercurrent of political commentary which is presented as an integral part of Mick's working-class identity. I found it particularly poignant that the story highlights the importance of charity services - soup kitchens, hostels, support workers - in restoring some hope to Mick's life, at a time when many of these services are facing debilitating cuts in funding.
Devastating, shocking, moving, timely, significant - Waterline lives up to all of these superlatives and more, but it's a tremendously harrowing and difficult read. I think this is one of the reasons I powered through it so quickly: had I stopped, I might have felt too emotionally exhausted to go back to it. Because it was often hard to read and more thought-provoking than entertaining, I didn't enjoy this anywhere near as much as God's Own Country, but I think it is an important book and one that confirms Raisin's exceptional talent. I hope Waterline earns the author a clutch of award nominations, and I can't wait to watch his career unfold in the future.
PS: this excellent review by Alan Garner from the Guardian is worth a look - http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2011/...
February 16, 2017
At times bleak and despairing a novel about grief,depression,families and friends.Set initially in working class Glasgow the scene then shifts South to London where we encounter the world of the homeless.Parts of this section were laboured and repetitive I found.This novel is well written,permeated with humour and phrased in vernacular of Glasgow.Four stars.
October 13, 2011
“And see if he did put a claim in then the reminders would be there the whole time—for months, years, however long it took—and even that is still ignoring the main thing: why should he get a windfall? Him that brought it into the house and handed her the overalls to wash and here’s two hundred grand, pal, take it, it’s yours—you deserve it.”
After the death of his wife to mesothelioma, Mick has to start his life over, struggling with the guilt from her death attributable to residue from his job in the shipyards. While his children hint at getting a settlement, to punish the company that virtually saturated their employees in asbestos, Mick resists any idea of what he imagines a payoff for her death.
While the story proceeds with his descent into grief, it never plays into the stereotype of the grieving widower who travels through five stages of grief to recover and find love again with a sweet old lady down the street. Instead, his journey is literal. Unable, emotionally, to reside in the house anymore, he starts sleeping in a shed outside, and his focus changes to minor things to avoid thinking about the bigger issues. He begins finding a kinship more with the birds he feeds than with other humans.
“He listens, enjoying the sound of it, as they begin skittering on the concrete outside the shed door...Until recently there’d been just the one – probably the same patient guy that’s been coming all the while –but he’s obvious gone and let dab to all his mates that they can come and eat here, and now there’s a whole mob of them. Good for him, no keeping it all to himself. Obviously no an English bird. A genuine Southsider, that sparrow. “
The quote above reveals a wry humor that Mick has, told in his warm Glasgow accent. It’s revealed again as he’s run out of money, and thinks about the possibility of asking his brother-in-law for money:
“…he’d be pure delighted, guaranteed. A great song and dance over it, the ceremonious fetching of the chequebook, the smug showy putting on of the wee reading glasses. How much would you like, Mick? Really, it’s not a problem. How much?”
Instead of resorting to that indignation, Mick chooses another option: complete departure, from both Glasgow and reality. He ends up in London living a life he’d never imagined, and one that he hopes to hide from his sons left behind, who know nothing of his location.
Mick’s voice is full of irony and desperate humor, especially when he remarks on the cheap condolences friends make when they see him. He’s a realist that knows far too well how little people really feel about his loss. In this many vivid side characters are pulled in, and while they don’t appear long, they are memorable for the way they are described.
Midway through the novel I glanced at the author’s photograph in the back. It stopped me in my tracks. It’s a young guy that wrote this aged voice! It sort of put me off, for a day anyway, because I couldn’t imagine how a young man (anyone younger than me qualifies in that regard) could create such a complex persona that melds humor, regret, guilt, and anxiety in one realistic character. Topping it off is the Scottish voice that Mick delivers his thoughts in; sometimes an accent is hard to read because it doesn't flow, but in this case it was much of the charm. (Would make a killer audiobook!)
Especially noteworthy is that while it is essentially a quest motif, the fact that neither the reader nor the protagonist knows the object that is being sought makes it mysterious. The pace speeds up as you literally follow Mick through a labyrinth of people and places, and you really don’t know where he’s headed. And the questions continue to plague you: what happened to his sons? Who were the men at the door? Will he go back to Glasgow? What was up with Craig?
This is on target for my top five titles of 2011. Not only because of the main character and the plot, but also because of what it reveals about those living outside the margins of society. While the underbelly of large cities is often presented as a place of crime and prostitution, Waterline exposes the remote lives of immigrants and the homeless, attempting to live an honorable life while no one wants to meet their eyes.
After the death of his wife to mesothelioma, Mick has to start his life over, struggling with the guilt from her death attributable to residue from his job in the shipyards. While his children hint at getting a settlement, to punish the company that virtually saturated their employees in asbestos, Mick resists any idea of what he imagines a payoff for her death.
While the story proceeds with his descent into grief, it never plays into the stereotype of the grieving widower who travels through five stages of grief to recover and find love again with a sweet old lady down the street. Instead, his journey is literal. Unable, emotionally, to reside in the house anymore, he starts sleeping in a shed outside, and his focus changes to minor things to avoid thinking about the bigger issues. He begins finding a kinship more with the birds he feeds than with other humans.
“He listens, enjoying the sound of it, as they begin skittering on the concrete outside the shed door...Until recently there’d been just the one – probably the same patient guy that’s been coming all the while –but he’s obvious gone and let dab to all his mates that they can come and eat here, and now there’s a whole mob of them. Good for him, no keeping it all to himself. Obviously no an English bird. A genuine Southsider, that sparrow. “
The quote above reveals a wry humor that Mick has, told in his warm Glasgow accent. It’s revealed again as he’s run out of money, and thinks about the possibility of asking his brother-in-law for money:
“…he’d be pure delighted, guaranteed. A great song and dance over it, the ceremonious fetching of the chequebook, the smug showy putting on of the wee reading glasses. How much would you like, Mick? Really, it’s not a problem. How much?”
Instead of resorting to that indignation, Mick chooses another option: complete departure, from both Glasgow and reality. He ends up in London living a life he’d never imagined, and one that he hopes to hide from his sons left behind, who know nothing of his location.
Mick’s voice is full of irony and desperate humor, especially when he remarks on the cheap condolences friends make when they see him. He’s a realist that knows far too well how little people really feel about his loss. In this many vivid side characters are pulled in, and while they don’t appear long, they are memorable for the way they are described.
Midway through the novel I glanced at the author’s photograph in the back. It stopped me in my tracks. It’s a young guy that wrote this aged voice! It sort of put me off, for a day anyway, because I couldn’t imagine how a young man (anyone younger than me qualifies in that regard) could create such a complex persona that melds humor, regret, guilt, and anxiety in one realistic character. Topping it off is the Scottish voice that Mick delivers his thoughts in; sometimes an accent is hard to read because it doesn't flow, but in this case it was much of the charm. (Would make a killer audiobook!)
Especially noteworthy is that while it is essentially a quest motif, the fact that neither the reader nor the protagonist knows the object that is being sought makes it mysterious. The pace speeds up as you literally follow Mick through a labyrinth of people and places, and you really don’t know where he’s headed. And the questions continue to plague you: what happened to his sons? Who were the men at the door? Will he go back to Glasgow? What was up with Craig?
This is on target for my top five titles of 2011. Not only because of the main character and the plot, but also because of what it reveals about those living outside the margins of society. While the underbelly of large cities is often presented as a place of crime and prostitution, Waterline exposes the remote lives of immigrants and the homeless, attempting to live an honorable life while no one wants to meet their eyes.
September 20, 2024
Got a good review at the weekend from various papers and I really liked his first novel 'God's Own Country'.
I am tempted to give it 5 stars because it ended up a moving account of one man's descent into poverty and homelessness after the shock of his wife's death. He is an ex Clydebank shipbuilder, and feels guilty because he has caused her death through the asbestos he brought home on/in his clothes. Unable to cope with the grief and guilt and too proud to go on the dole (on the broo) or to claim compensation he 'runs off' to London where he works in a hotel with immigrant workers. Losing that job he becomes homeless, drinking 'superlager' and eventually begging at atube station before getting a place in a hostel.
It has none of the exuberance, humour or punch of God's Own Country, instead it is a somber and detailed description of decline, a very different read. Although his book is partly set in Scotland and his protagonist Scottish I think with Raisin, McGregor, and Cartwright we are seeing a wave of English writers tackling 'working class' problems in the way that Scottish writers (Kelman, Welsh, Warner) have been doing for some time. Long may it continue.
I am tempted to give it 5 stars because it ended up a moving account of one man's descent into poverty and homelessness after the shock of his wife's death. He is an ex Clydebank shipbuilder, and feels guilty because he has caused her death through the asbestos he brought home on/in his clothes. Unable to cope with the grief and guilt and too proud to go on the dole (on the broo) or to claim compensation he 'runs off' to London where he works in a hotel with immigrant workers. Losing that job he becomes homeless, drinking 'superlager' and eventually begging at atube station before getting a place in a hostel.
It has none of the exuberance, humour or punch of God's Own Country, instead it is a somber and detailed description of decline, a very different read. Although his book is partly set in Scotland and his protagonist Scottish I think with Raisin, McGregor, and Cartwright we are seeing a wave of English writers tackling 'working class' problems in the way that Scottish writers (Kelman, Welsh, Warner) have been doing for some time. Long may it continue.
June 18, 2012
Ross Raisin does a fine line in dark and deep. His first novel was shortlisted for nine literary awards and I'd go so far as to say this will follow.
It details the downward spiral of Mick after his wife dies from methothelioma - a condition he blames himself for from his time working on the shipyards, bringing the dust back home. We meet Mick and his family at the funeral; Craig, his taciturn son who says little to his father and feels a lot for his dead mother and Robbie, the younger son who now lives in Australia and reluctantly leaves his father to his new widower life.
With the guilt of his wfe's death pressing down on him and no way to find a lead into this new life that he doesn't want - old friends and colleagues think to leave him to himself is helping him, he can't get his old job back and money is running out - Mick withdraws from life as he knew it and eventually heads for London.
From a job as a kitchen porter to prowling the streets of London looking for a dry place to sleep we follow Mick as his grief and guilt for his wife take a good hold that never dissipates.
A harrowing but truthful account of sadly, an all too famiiar tale of these times. Ross depicts a picture that shows clearly how any decent, hard working person can become a victim of the times and end up in this situation. He never prettifies this picture, it is dark and gloomy and it's hard to get out of; the horrific facts are drawn out with no drama or build up, it is how it is and that makes the impact resonate more thoroughly.
Mick is a Glaswegian, no nonsense fella, he's a working man and proud; his voice comes across as such, never feeling sorry for himself, living life one day to the next but the guilt over his wife never assauges. He comes across as a likeable man, sunk deep into depression but never bitter. He comes to rely on 'Beans' and the partnership of the two men adds a little ironic warmth to the story although it also intensifies the grimness of it too.
After reading this I defy anyone to look at 'down-and-out' people the same way. It's quite heart rending to know that so many people are out there in this situation and are looked down upon when in actuality they are humans that have had a rough time and need a little compassion from those that have. No one knows their story and assumptions are easy to make.
The whole story, from the asbestos cover up in the shipyards, to the shipyards closing, but always working at whatever comes along, to the death from the asbestos is the story of many people showing how politics and greed affect lives and Ross has taken it that one step further where most imaginations won't go and shown us how much farther that story can and does go.
Fabulous prose that really gets into Mick's head and eats away at the readers conscience.
Don't expect a happy ending, by now, we now that's not what Ross Raisin deals with but do expect to be stunned by the detail and grimness thereof. You'll come away from this book feeling a little dirty, probably relieved and most likely a bit guilty but you will keep thinking about it.
It details the downward spiral of Mick after his wife dies from methothelioma - a condition he blames himself for from his time working on the shipyards, bringing the dust back home. We meet Mick and his family at the funeral; Craig, his taciturn son who says little to his father and feels a lot for his dead mother and Robbie, the younger son who now lives in Australia and reluctantly leaves his father to his new widower life.
With the guilt of his wfe's death pressing down on him and no way to find a lead into this new life that he doesn't want - old friends and colleagues think to leave him to himself is helping him, he can't get his old job back and money is running out - Mick withdraws from life as he knew it and eventually heads for London.
From a job as a kitchen porter to prowling the streets of London looking for a dry place to sleep we follow Mick as his grief and guilt for his wife take a good hold that never dissipates.
A harrowing but truthful account of sadly, an all too famiiar tale of these times. Ross depicts a picture that shows clearly how any decent, hard working person can become a victim of the times and end up in this situation. He never prettifies this picture, it is dark and gloomy and it's hard to get out of; the horrific facts are drawn out with no drama or build up, it is how it is and that makes the impact resonate more thoroughly.
Mick is a Glaswegian, no nonsense fella, he's a working man and proud; his voice comes across as such, never feeling sorry for himself, living life one day to the next but the guilt over his wife never assauges. He comes across as a likeable man, sunk deep into depression but never bitter. He comes to rely on 'Beans' and the partnership of the two men adds a little ironic warmth to the story although it also intensifies the grimness of it too.
After reading this I defy anyone to look at 'down-and-out' people the same way. It's quite heart rending to know that so many people are out there in this situation and are looked down upon when in actuality they are humans that have had a rough time and need a little compassion from those that have. No one knows their story and assumptions are easy to make.
The whole story, from the asbestos cover up in the shipyards, to the shipyards closing, but always working at whatever comes along, to the death from the asbestos is the story of many people showing how politics and greed affect lives and Ross has taken it that one step further where most imaginations won't go and shown us how much farther that story can and does go.
Fabulous prose that really gets into Mick's head and eats away at the readers conscience.
Don't expect a happy ending, by now, we now that's not what Ross Raisin deals with but do expect to be stunned by the detail and grimness thereof. You'll come away from this book feeling a little dirty, probably relieved and most likely a bit guilty but you will keep thinking about it.
June 10, 2024
Micks Geschichte zeigt, wie einfach es ist, den Boden unter den Füssen zu verlieren. Auch wenn ihm nach dem Tod seiner Frau Familie und Freunde ihre Hilfe anbieten, kann er sie nicht annehmen. Er kann keinem sagen, wie es in ihm aussieht. Sein Lebensraum wird immer kleiner: zuerst kann er nicht mehr im Ehebett schlafen, dann nicht mehr im Schlafzimmer und schließlich nicht mehr im Haus. Irgendwann muss er raus aus der Stadt und landet in London. Dort kommt er zuerst wieder ein bisschen auf die Beine. Aber sobald ein Problem auftritt, kann er damit nicht umgehen und läuft davon. Irgendwann ist er ganz am Boden und das ist der Moment, in dem es ihm besser zu gehen scheint. Jetzt ist das Schlimmste passiert und es kann nicht mehr schlimmer kommen. Vielleicht wäre Micks Leben anders verlaufen, wenn er sich von Anfang an Hilfe gesucht hätte. Damals war er noch nicht bereit dazu. Auch im Lauf der Geschichte ist ihm immer wieder Hilfe angeboten worden, aber der richtige Zeitpunkt war noch nicht gekommen. Ich wünsche ihm alles Gute, aber ich kann auch verstehen, wie schwer der erste Schritt für ihn sein muss.
June 23, 2018
From BBC radio 4 - Book at Bedtime:
'Waterline' is Ross Raisin's long-awaited new novel after the success of his prize-winning debut 'God's Own Country'.
'The sun is on his face, and he spots the postie turning in through the gate... He is awake, that's obvious enough, but he has this sense of unrealness. That it's him that's not real. That's aye what it feels like. As if all these goings on around him - the sunshine, the television still quietly on, the post tummelling onto the mat - they are all part of some other life, one that he can see, but he's no a part of.'
After the death of his beloved wife Cathy, ex-Glasgow shipbuilder and union man, Mick Little, finds himself struggling. The shipyard's gone and with it his old way of life, and now his wife too. With the ties that bound him to his past suddenly loosened, he finds himself adrift. Starting out again, away from Scotland, he can leave somethings behind but not the guilt he feels over Cathy's death.
Tracing Mick's journey from his old life in Glasgow to the harsh, alien world of a hotel kitchen, and on to the rough streets of London, this is an intensely moving portrait of a life in the balance, and a story for our times.
Episode 1 of 10
Today: Cathy's funeral brings old family tensions to the surface, as Mick struggles to come to terms with his wife's untimely death.
Episode 2 of 10
Today: alone now after his in-laws and sons have returned home, Mick sets about getting back to normality. But nothing is normal now.
Episode 3 of 10
Today: Mick finds that his home holds too many painful memories and is haunted by the part he might have played in Cathy's death...
Episode 4 of 10
Today: deciding that the only way to survive is to leave the past behind, Mick sets out for London.
Episode 5 of 10
Today: Mick's new life down in London begins with a gruelling job in the bleak surroundings of a London airport.
Episode 6 of 10
Today: now moneyless and jobless, Mick finds himself trying to negotiate life on the harsh streets of London.
Episode 7 of 10
Today: still struggling to stay afloat on the streets of London, Mick finds shelter, and an unlikely ally.
Episode 8 of 10
Today: Mick and his ally Beans have carved out a form of existence on the riverbanks of London, when a horrific attack shocks Mick into action...
Episode 9 of 10
Today: as Mick starts to rebuild his life in London, painful news from Glasgow forces him to confront his past.
Episode 10 of 10
Today: Finally off the streets now, Mick determines to face up to the past. But can there ever be a future for him and his two sons?
'God's Own Country' was nominated for eight major awards, winning the Betty Trask and the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year awards.
Reader: Alexander Morton
Abridger: Sally Marmion
Producer: Justine Willett.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b012...
'Waterline' is Ross Raisin's long-awaited new novel after the success of his prize-winning debut 'God's Own Country'.
'The sun is on his face, and he spots the postie turning in through the gate... He is awake, that's obvious enough, but he has this sense of unrealness. That it's him that's not real. That's aye what it feels like. As if all these goings on around him - the sunshine, the television still quietly on, the post tummelling onto the mat - they are all part of some other life, one that he can see, but he's no a part of.'
After the death of his beloved wife Cathy, ex-Glasgow shipbuilder and union man, Mick Little, finds himself struggling. The shipyard's gone and with it his old way of life, and now his wife too. With the ties that bound him to his past suddenly loosened, he finds himself adrift. Starting out again, away from Scotland, he can leave somethings behind but not the guilt he feels over Cathy's death.
Tracing Mick's journey from his old life in Glasgow to the harsh, alien world of a hotel kitchen, and on to the rough streets of London, this is an intensely moving portrait of a life in the balance, and a story for our times.
Episode 1 of 10
Today: Cathy's funeral brings old family tensions to the surface, as Mick struggles to come to terms with his wife's untimely death.
Episode 2 of 10
Today: alone now after his in-laws and sons have returned home, Mick sets about getting back to normality. But nothing is normal now.
Episode 3 of 10
Today: Mick finds that his home holds too many painful memories and is haunted by the part he might have played in Cathy's death...
Episode 4 of 10
Today: deciding that the only way to survive is to leave the past behind, Mick sets out for London.
Episode 5 of 10
Today: Mick's new life down in London begins with a gruelling job in the bleak surroundings of a London airport.
Episode 6 of 10
Today: now moneyless and jobless, Mick finds himself trying to negotiate life on the harsh streets of London.
Episode 7 of 10
Today: still struggling to stay afloat on the streets of London, Mick finds shelter, and an unlikely ally.
Episode 8 of 10
Today: Mick and his ally Beans have carved out a form of existence on the riverbanks of London, when a horrific attack shocks Mick into action...
Episode 9 of 10
Today: as Mick starts to rebuild his life in London, painful news from Glasgow forces him to confront his past.
Episode 10 of 10
Today: Finally off the streets now, Mick determines to face up to the past. But can there ever be a future for him and his two sons?
'God's Own Country' was nominated for eight major awards, winning the Betty Trask and the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year awards.
Reader: Alexander Morton
Abridger: Sally Marmion
Producer: Justine Willett.
https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b012...
February 5, 2023
An excellent book. Hard to write a review without mentioning the plot, hence the spoiler mask.
Ostensibly it's a story about a man who loses his wife to cancer as a result of exposure to asbestos he brought home with him over years of working at the docks. That real-life subject is examined a little, too. The relationships between the protagonist and friends/family are a mix of good and bad experiences for him, and they all do their bit to add to the overall makeup of what his life becomes. And what that is, is an exploration of a man who feels loss so keenly that he retreats – from the people around him, and eventually from the world at large, becoming homeless in the process. It's a stark reminder of just how easily it can happen. There's redemption, and surprise in the tale right to the end.
The writing is excellent, just as with Raisin's other books, and as the protagonist is Glaswegian and narrates much of the story a lot of the language is colloquial, but never to the detriment of being able to follow what its being said.
A heartbreaking read, but darkly funny in places, too. A wonderful book.
Ostensibly it's a story about a man who loses his wife to cancer as a result of exposure to asbestos he brought home with him over years of working at the docks. That real-life subject is examined a little, too. The relationships between the protagonist and friends/family are a mix of good and bad experiences for him, and they all do their bit to add to the overall makeup of what his life becomes. And what that is, is an exploration of a man who feels loss so keenly that he retreats – from the people around him, and eventually from the world at large, becoming homeless in the process. It's a stark reminder of just how easily it can happen. There's redemption, and surprise in the tale right to the end.
The writing is excellent, just as with Raisin's other books, and as the protagonist is Glaswegian and narrates much of the story a lot of the language is colloquial, but never to the detriment of being able to follow what its being said.
A heartbreaking read, but darkly funny in places, too. A wonderful book.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
August 5, 2014
Following the descent of a recently widowed man into homelessness, Waterline is my read of the year so far. The grief and terror Raisin depicts as Mick attempts to process the death of his wife and manage his new life on the streets is truly moving. Much like God's Own Country this novel focuses on themes of isolation and withdrawal, or rejection, from society. The narrative switches from Mick's voice to outsiders, such as the reader, who encounter the homeless on a daily basis but keep their eyes to the ground. In many ways the narrative structure feels like a telling off: a reminder that the homeless haven't always been homeless. The outside judgements are interspersed with Mick's mundane but touching flashbacks of his 'old' life, his wife chopping vegetables or sifting through clothing rails. The sense of despair is countered somewhat by Raisin's positive description of the support offered by homeless and religious organisations ('the hallelujahs') and charities. Providing basic care is one means of support the charities offer but importantly they also serve to bring the isolated individuals together. The friendships, albeit fleeting, Mick makes whilst working at the hotel and with fellow homeless man Beans, are one of the most successful elements of the novel.
As in God's Own Country, Raisin's handling of dialect is masterful and gives the novel a great deal of momentum. The Glaswegian vernacular is engaging and his use of colloqulliasms against the London setting adds a powerful emotive element to the story.
Waterline forces the reader to recognize the voice of the very people they pretend to neither hear nor see everyday.
As in God's Own Country, Raisin's handling of dialect is masterful and gives the novel a great deal of momentum. The Glaswegian vernacular is engaging and his use of colloqulliasms against the London setting adds a powerful emotive element to the story.
Waterline forces the reader to recognize the voice of the very people they pretend to neither hear nor see everyday.
March 6, 2014
Book at bedtime: Ross Raisin's long-awaited new novel after the success of his prize-winning debut 'God's Own Country'.
'The sun is on his face, and he spots the postie turning in through the gate... He is awake, that's obvious enough, but he has this sense of unrealness. That it's him that's not real. That's aye what it feels like. As if all these goings on around him - the sunshine, the television still quietly on, the post tummelling onto the mat - they are all part of some other life, one that he can see, but he's no a part of.'
After the death of his beloved wife Cathy, ex-Glasgow shipbuilder and union man, Mick Little finds himself struggling. The shipyard's gone and with it his old way of life, and now his wife too. With the ties that bound him to his old life suddenly loosened, he sets about finding a new way to live. Tracing Mick's journey from his old life in Glasgow to the harsh, alien world of a hotel kitchen, to the rough streets of London, this is an intensely moving portrait of a life being lived all around us, and a story for our times.
Today: Mick's new life down in London begins with a gruelling job in the bleak surroundings of a London airport.
'God's Own Country' was nominated for eight major awards, winning the Betty Trask and the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year awards.
Reader: Alexander Morton
Abridger: Sally Marmion
Producer: Justine Willett.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
December 6, 2014
Knocked me sideways. When the novel opens, Mick, a former shipyard worker, is immersed in the strangeness of having a houseful of relatives after the funeral of his wife, Cathy. We see him interacting with his middle-class in-laws and his grown sons, the one from Australia and the other, more taciturn, living on the other side of town. After they depart, Mick finds himself unable to cope with Cathy's loss but unable to acknowledge his difficulties to others, and he starts what becomes a dramatic slide. Really, really wonderful - on class, economics, the gender dynamic that holds men back from communicating effectively with each other, their partners, or themselves. Also wonderful in the voice that Raisin creates for Mick and his Glaswegian cadences. It was a painful read and I had to put it down and give it a little rest from time to time, but it's rewarding in every way.
May 5, 2012
I had to read this for my book club. Please don't ask me to read it again, ever.
I was the only person at the group who did not rave about it's realism, and how it changed their view of guilt (because his asbestos covered clothes gave his wife cancer), depressed (due to being widowed) and homelessness (because he lost the plot of who cared about him and would have supported him in his guilt & grief if only he had TOLD THEM).
The best section was how social workers tried to connect with him, and help.
The funniest bits involved his weird friend among the homeless in London, good old Beans.
I was the only person at the group who did not rave about it's realism, and how it changed their view of guilt (because his asbestos covered clothes gave his wife cancer), depressed (due to being widowed) and homelessness (because he lost the plot of who cared about him and would have supported him in his guilt & grief if only he had TOLD THEM).
The best section was how social workers tried to connect with him, and help.
The funniest bits involved his weird friend among the homeless in London, good old Beans.
July 9, 2018
Waterline by Ross Raisin was a brilliant book - poignant and heart-breaking but with some glimmers of hope at the end. It explores a man trapped in grief and his downward spiral into homelessness. It sounds very bleak but I didn't find it depressing because it is very accessibly written with a lot of warmth. I was with Mick all the way and felt totally involved in his plight.
August 12, 2011
Had this recommended to me through radio 4's Open Book programme. I loved the sensitivity with which the author paints the portrait of his lead character.
August 29, 2016
Well written; but gruelling story. I could only read it in small doses
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
May 18, 2017
sad, personal, idiosyncratic. written in mild glasgae. it's no In God's own Country but it's an enjoyable read for the same reasons.
February 7, 2021
There is a slowness for at least this reader at the outset of the novel. It's hard to follow the line of the story - the 'Weegie' accent and vernacular are hard to track, making the plot a little unfathomable - what are the characters really saying to each other, what is their mode of being, what is moving them - and Mick in particular - forward. The tensions of class are clear; it is quite certain where the 'Highlanders', his wife's family stand in the social order and what Mick thinks of them. But after a time and after Mick's life collapses further and further it seemed the author's goal to plumb the emotional depths with his character, to explore the homeless, the day laborer, the immigrant was compelling - one finally started to pull for Mick. Even if he was going to end at the end of the novel in the depths, there would be some pathos, some empathy that would be a reason for going forward to the end of the book - instead of dreading it when I picked it up because of tedium (I didn't care) my reading moved me forward. Even if this was not going to end well, I needed to know.
The world of the restaurant laborer compelled as did the probably bi-polar homeless character, Beans. At the end, though, it seemed to me that Mick was rescued rather than redeemed.
The world of the restaurant laborer compelled as did the probably bi-polar homeless character, Beans. At the end, though, it seemed to me that Mick was rescued rather than redeemed.
June 26, 2018
Well that was depressing. Jeez. I listened to the abridged audio, presented in 10, 13-minute segments, each more depressing than the last even to the end. And it was extremely hard to follow because of the thick Scottish brogue used by the reader, which was lighter for some of the minor voices. Fortunate for that, because had I not been able to detect a change in accent, I REALLY would have been lost. (This commentary is mostly about the audio presentation, not the novel.) The reader was good, but since there are several different voices and most not identified, I often wasn't sure who was speaking. Or thinking aloud, is more like it. So, the takeaway is that I missed a lot of the story-- a story that was already abridged. One important piece that I think the BBC should have squeezed in was the meaning of the book's title, which I found from a review in The Guardian.
As for the story itself, it was well written and highly provocative. It's darkness will haunt you. But it's simply not for me. I'd be depressed myself for days if I read it.
As for the story itself, it was well written and highly provocative. It's darkness will haunt you. But it's simply not for me. I'd be depressed myself for days if I read it.
April 17, 2021
For most of the time while reading this novel I felt it was a book to admire rather than enjoy. The consistently downbeat nature of the story depressed me.
What's more, I didn't find it very plausible that the central character Mick finds himself living on the streets of London. I know he was affected by grief, but I can't imagine anyone leaving their home in Glasgow and putting themselves through such misery. However, I guess the result is what matters: we are given a well-paced, evocatively written depiction of life as a homeless person, a life which we too often try to avoid contemplating.
What really elevated the book from 3 to 4 stars was the [SPOILER ALERT] description in the final pages of a dead body, presumably that of Mick's homeless mate Beans, lying on a beach. I was pleased that the author had avoided any neat resolutions: although it looks as if things will get better for Mick, the lonely fate of Beans reminds us that one of the main themes of this novel is homelessness, a scourge that will continue whatever the future has in store for Mick.
What's more, I didn't find it very plausible that the central character Mick finds himself living on the streets of London. I know he was affected by grief, but I can't imagine anyone leaving their home in Glasgow and putting themselves through such misery. However, I guess the result is what matters: we are given a well-paced, evocatively written depiction of life as a homeless person, a life which we too often try to avoid contemplating.
What really elevated the book from 3 to 4 stars was the [SPOILER ALERT] description in the final pages of a dead body, presumably that of Mick's homeless mate Beans, lying on a beach. I was pleased that the author had avoided any neat resolutions: although it looks as if things will get better for Mick, the lonely fate of Beans reminds us that one of the main themes of this novel is homelessness, a scourge that will continue whatever the future has in store for Mick.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
June 23, 2018
'The sun is on his face, and he spots the postie turning in through the gate... He is awake, that's obvious enough, but he has this sense of unrealness. That it's him that's not real. That's aye what it feels like. As if all these goings on around him - the sunshine, the television still quietly on, the post tummelling onto the mat - they are all part of some other life, one that he can see, but he's no a part of.'
After the death of his beloved wife Cathy, ex-Glasgow shipbuilder and union man, Mick Little finds himself struggling. Tracing Mick's journey from his old life in Glasgow to the harsh, alien world of a hotel kitchen to the rough streets of London, this is an intensely moving portrait of a life and a story for our times.
I listened to Ross Raisin's 'Waterline' on BBC's Book at Bedtime. It's a powerful although bleak, very bleak portrayal of a mans inability to cope with his grief & guilt after the death of his wife. I found it strangely compelling.
After the death of his beloved wife Cathy, ex-Glasgow shipbuilder and union man, Mick Little finds himself struggling. Tracing Mick's journey from his old life in Glasgow to the harsh, alien world of a hotel kitchen to the rough streets of London, this is an intensely moving portrait of a life and a story for our times.
I listened to Ross Raisin's 'Waterline' on BBC's Book at Bedtime. It's a powerful although bleak, very bleak portrayal of a mans inability to cope with his grief & guilt after the death of his wife. I found it strangely compelling.
June 8, 2022
I will never be able to look at a homeless person the same way as before
I didn't expect such a quiet book to be a page turner for me. I just couldn't abandon Mick on his journey of grief, guilt, depression, addiction and homelessness, and hopefully his reunion with his children.
Mick will now stay in my heart forever. I will look for him in every homeless person I see. I will look for him in any hotel staff, in any bereaved person.
The Greek chorus shifts in perspective confused me at first but after a few chapters, I saw how skillfully it was being used to show how the community failed Mick.
I don't know how Ross did it, but I felt he was Mick on the page. My eyes were red and my heart raw after I put the book down.
I can't imagine how heartbreaking it must have been to write Mick so faithfully. I think I'll be gifting this book at Christmas to my friends and family, so they understand how easy it is to fall down the waterline.
I didn't expect such a quiet book to be a page turner for me. I just couldn't abandon Mick on his journey of grief, guilt, depression, addiction and homelessness, and hopefully his reunion with his children.
Mick will now stay in my heart forever. I will look for him in every homeless person I see. I will look for him in any hotel staff, in any bereaved person.
The Greek chorus shifts in perspective confused me at first but after a few chapters, I saw how skillfully it was being used to show how the community failed Mick.
I don't know how Ross did it, but I felt he was Mick on the page. My eyes were red and my heart raw after I put the book down.
I can't imagine how heartbreaking it must have been to write Mick so faithfully. I think I'll be gifting this book at Christmas to my friends and family, so they understand how easy it is to fall down the waterline.
December 9, 2019
A profound book. I spent a long time reading it - not because it was difficult, but because I felt a part of it and digesting it slowly was gratifying and helped me understand the main character. It is a relentlessly dark story, but the darkness is necessary.
Working in a public library, I see people who are homeless every day. The author does a fine job showing how circumstances out of our control can lead to homelessness, and I feel I can look deeper at a person now who is homeless because of this book.
It is not solely about homelessness; it is about grief and family and friendships - and Glasgow and London!
Working in a public library, I see people who are homeless every day. The author does a fine job showing how circumstances out of our control can lead to homelessness, and I feel I can look deeper at a person now who is homeless because of this book.
It is not solely about homelessness; it is about grief and family and friendships - and Glasgow and London!
January 23, 2023
This book about grief, alcohol abuse, and homelessness probably wasn’t the best choice for this particular juncture of my life. It’s grim. I enjoyed the style of it, written as it was in Glaswegian-English, and it was moving at times. I enjoyed the interludes from different characters which showed how Mick was seen by people around him. The first third of the book was a bit slow, and when the character ended up in the same situation in London as he’d been in Glasgow, I got a bit bored again.
So yes, this is a good book, but it’s grim, and I can’t say I enjoyed it.
So yes, this is a good book, but it’s grim, and I can’t say I enjoyed it.
April 21, 2018
I didn't think I was going to like this book after 50 pages or so, but it definitely drew me in. One man's journey from guilt-ridden grief in Glasgow to alcohol-dependant homelessness in London brought up a lot of personal stuff around emotional withdrawal. Not a book I'm likely to read again, mind.
December 9, 2018
3.5/4? Second book I've read by him - moving, wonderfully written, difficult to read at times. Occasionally found it a bit on the "issue" side, but but inevitably it came back again to the very real character and story, transcending the "issue " bits. Looking forward to reading the rest of his stuff- really knows about people and can inhabit anyone.
March 6, 2019
I loved this book, despite my reservations at the beginning. What an insightful exploration of grief, male relationships and homelessness. I was challenged and moved in equal measure. Would highly recommend.
March 29, 2019
An admirable novel, but let down by the glaringly obvious fact that it was written by someone who doesn't understand the intricacies and subtleties of the Scots tongue (and particularly the Glasgow dialect)
October 11, 2019
Another strong, sad book from Raisin. It felt very 'true', and painted a realistic picture of grief and the decent into homelessness in modern Britain. Not for the fainthearted, but a worthwhile read.
September 6, 2022
It took a while to get into the style of writing. The dialogue was Glaswegian. It was a very touching story dealing with issues relevant today.
January 30, 2023
A well-written story about how a man is undone by grief, told in a realistic, never patronizing way.
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