First things first, I love the shipping forecast. It is clear that the author of this book does, too.
I think there is something inherently intimate about the Shipping Forecast, this is in part due to its unsociable broadcasting hours. Floating across the airwaves (sailing by??) at 0048 and 0520 it catches you in your more vulnerable moments.
The heavy lidded insomniac, the drunk crawling into bed, and tired parent of a crying newborn can all be united by the cryptic but comforting utterances of the ‘Shipping forecast’.
The book clearly captures the intense fondness many people have for the Shipping forecast - when it does in fact manage to stay on the topic of the shipping forecast. So that was good.
On a structural level, I found the book incredibly frustrating, as it flitted, with no chronology from discussing roman history, wooly mammoths, to the ending of the planet of the apes. The chapters were meandering and seemed to be a complete stream of consciousness, tangentially going over various facts mostly about the sea.
The tone of the book failed to land with me also, and I found the flippant / jokey tone overly self aware and very grating.
On the whole it felt like the confused love child of uni students last minute essay, and a slightly self indulgent diary. The cover is pretty, but I am tired and grumpy and might throw it in the Thames.