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Skryte, jasne, słone. Rybackie miasteczko w Kornwalii
W prologu do powieści Ulica Nadbrzeżna John Steinbeck pisze, jak trudne, niemal niemożliwe jest przekształcenie krajobrazu i ludzi w literaturę. Lamornie Ash, której imię pochodzi od nazwy jednej z kornwalijskich zatok i której matka urodziła się w Kornwalii, udaje się to doskonale. Młoda autorka przeprowadza się do rybackiego Newlyn i wrasta w lokalną tkankę, wnikliwie obserwując mieszkańców i uważnie słuchając ich opowieści. Wypływa na morze, patroszy ryby, bierze udział w aukcjach po połowach i upija się z rybakami w pubach. Te codzienne rytuały są dla niej pretekstem do głębszych rozważań o istocie człowieczeństwa i upływającym czasie. Sięgając do wielkiej literatury – Sebalda, Bishop, Woolf czy Conrada – zestawia mit z rzeczywistością i odkrywa przy tym własną tęsknotę za byciem częścią zżytej społeczności.
Skryte, jasne, słone to piękna opowieść o poszukiwaniu korzeni i refleksyjna podróż do miejsca, którego fundamentem jest natura, a spoiwem wspólnota.
Skryte, jasne, słone to piękna opowieść o poszukiwaniu korzeni i refleksyjna podróż do miejsca, którego fundamentem jest natura, a spoiwem wspólnota.
424 pages, Paperback
First published April 2, 2020
180 people are currently reading
2588 people want to read
About the author
Lamorna Ash
3 books70 followersLamorna Ash is the author of Dark, Salt, Clear, a BBC Radio 4 'Book of the Week', and Somerset Maugham Prize winner in 2021, and Don’t Forget We’re Here Forever, 2025. She is a freelance journalist writing for the Times Literary Supplement, Financial Times, Vogue and the Guardian, as well as a columnist at the New Statesman.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 177 reviews
April 30, 2020
(#gifted @bloomsburypublishing) And the award for biggest reading surprise of the year goes to... 🏆 When this showed up on my doorstep I was sceptical. What would I, someone with no interest in fishing, get from a book with the subtitle: Life in a Cornish Fishing Village? Well, as it turns out, EVERYTHING. I picked this up with a want for something completely different, and what I got was a beautifully written, thoughtful reflection on the fishing industry and the community spirit in a small village in Cornwall.
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I've never really ventured in to nature writing before, but thanks to Lamorna Ash I can sense a new obsession brewing... I loved everything about this book, but the (many) descriptions of the sea, the coastal landscapes, the wildlife... OH MY 😍 Trust me, this book is perfect for lockdown, I felt like I was genuinely there. Ash's writing is rich and intensely researched, but she presents it in a natural, readable way.
.
But Ash doesn't romanticise the industry or the village. Fishing is a decimated industry, and the job takes a severe mental and physical toll on its fishermen. Meanwhile, tourism in Cornwall is pushing up house prices and subsequently pushing locals out. She paints a well-rounded picture of life here, and yes there are good things, but there are negatives too, including the drinking culture heavily enmeshed in fishing, the break-down of families, and of course lives lost at sea.
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But as I said, there is good. The camraderie between crews, the strongest sense of community spirit in Newlyn, the efforts towards sustainability taken very seriously by fishermen. The sea is their livelihood, many know nothing else, and so they have to support what supports them. It was lovely to see how Lamorna was welcomed into the community too. She went on fishing trips with a variety of crews to write this book, learning practical skills and gaining her own fishing nickname - a true sign of acceptance.
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I went on a true adventure with this book. Even if, like me, you're a nature writing newbie with no apparent interest in fishing, if you come across this one I beg you to give it a chance because it is EXCELLENT.
.
I've never really ventured in to nature writing before, but thanks to Lamorna Ash I can sense a new obsession brewing... I loved everything about this book, but the (many) descriptions of the sea, the coastal landscapes, the wildlife... OH MY 😍 Trust me, this book is perfect for lockdown, I felt like I was genuinely there. Ash's writing is rich and intensely researched, but she presents it in a natural, readable way.
.
But Ash doesn't romanticise the industry or the village. Fishing is a decimated industry, and the job takes a severe mental and physical toll on its fishermen. Meanwhile, tourism in Cornwall is pushing up house prices and subsequently pushing locals out. She paints a well-rounded picture of life here, and yes there are good things, but there are negatives too, including the drinking culture heavily enmeshed in fishing, the break-down of families, and of course lives lost at sea.
.
But as I said, there is good. The camraderie between crews, the strongest sense of community spirit in Newlyn, the efforts towards sustainability taken very seriously by fishermen. The sea is their livelihood, many know nothing else, and so they have to support what supports them. It was lovely to see how Lamorna was welcomed into the community too. She went on fishing trips with a variety of crews to write this book, learning practical skills and gaining her own fishing nickname - a true sign of acceptance.
.
I went on a true adventure with this book. Even if, like me, you're a nature writing newbie with no apparent interest in fishing, if you come across this one I beg you to give it a chance because it is EXCELLENT.
September 12, 2020
Lamorna Ash has headed out of London to Cornwall to Newlyn, a fishing town near Land’s End. The idyllic place of holidays past seems very different when you are living there. The Cornish are not very receptive to incomers, in particular those who want to buy properties there for a second home, driving the prices up so locals are not able to afford to live in the places that they grew up.
She is there because she is feeling lost and disconnected in London and is hoping that being back in the county her mother grew up in will help re-root her once again. She is welcomed by Denise wearing a similar blue striped top at Penzance Station. They have a slightly nervous conversation over tea and she heads up to bed, lulled to sleep by the booms of the waves against the harbour wall.
It is the same sound that wakes her in the morning and there is a waft of bacon cooking so she heads downstairs quickly. That day is the Newlyn tradition of the Lamorna Walk, where pretty much the whole town walks up the coastal path to the Lamorna Cove for a rowdy piss up at the Lamorna Wink pub and staggers back after. She knew she was named after a part of Cornwall, but didn’t expect to be taking part in something like this. She ends up drinking all day and by the end has made some firm friends.
What she really wants to do though is to secure a berth on a trawler. She is told that doing this is nigh on impossible. There are various superstitions to do with fishing, one is not being allowed to mention the word rabbit whilst aboard for some reason, the other is the presence of women on fishing vessels. It seems that Ash’s plan to be a crew member of a fishing boat may fall at the first hurdle. But she gets lucky, she talks to someone called David who has a share in a boat called the Crystal Sea and he is more than happy to have other along for the ride, even if they are there to liven the trip up a bit if they are ill.
Her first trip out to sea is cut short after a force 8 gales sweeps in, but even those few days are enough to light a fire inside to want to do this again and again. She bumps into Don, skipper of the Filadelfia and arranging a trip out on his boat is as straightforward as arranging a beer in a pub. Don is quite a character and so are the rest of his crew as she meets them on board. She will be away for seven days and night with these men and she is quickly accepted into their circle. Seasickness looms in the background but she is there to work for her board and is helping out with gutting the fish.
Onshore she is absorbed into the social life of the town, mostly because the couple she is staying with, know so many people. She plays pool badly in the Legion and contributes to the swear jar often. She manages to blag a trip on a crabber and finds it hard heavy work moving the pots around on the boat. The sea has got a hold on her now as it has with the other fishermen.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Ash has a lyrical and distinct voice as she writes about the real side of Cornwall and the people that live there. And it is those people that she shares pints with, stands alongside in a fishing boat gutting fish that make this book. They are rich and complex characters who tell her their anxieties, fears, hope and dreams as she gets to know them better and settles into life in the town. Highly recommended.
She is there because she is feeling lost and disconnected in London and is hoping that being back in the county her mother grew up in will help re-root her once again. She is welcomed by Denise wearing a similar blue striped top at Penzance Station. They have a slightly nervous conversation over tea and she heads up to bed, lulled to sleep by the booms of the waves against the harbour wall.
It is the same sound that wakes her in the morning and there is a waft of bacon cooking so she heads downstairs quickly. That day is the Newlyn tradition of the Lamorna Walk, where pretty much the whole town walks up the coastal path to the Lamorna Cove for a rowdy piss up at the Lamorna Wink pub and staggers back after. She knew she was named after a part of Cornwall, but didn’t expect to be taking part in something like this. She ends up drinking all day and by the end has made some firm friends.
What she really wants to do though is to secure a berth on a trawler. She is told that doing this is nigh on impossible. There are various superstitions to do with fishing, one is not being allowed to mention the word rabbit whilst aboard for some reason, the other is the presence of women on fishing vessels. It seems that Ash’s plan to be a crew member of a fishing boat may fall at the first hurdle. But she gets lucky, she talks to someone called David who has a share in a boat called the Crystal Sea and he is more than happy to have other along for the ride, even if they are there to liven the trip up a bit if they are ill.
Her first trip out to sea is cut short after a force 8 gales sweeps in, but even those few days are enough to light a fire inside to want to do this again and again. She bumps into Don, skipper of the Filadelfia and arranging a trip out on his boat is as straightforward as arranging a beer in a pub. Don is quite a character and so are the rest of his crew as she meets them on board. She will be away for seven days and night with these men and she is quickly accepted into their circle. Seasickness looms in the background but she is there to work for her board and is helping out with gutting the fish.
Onshore she is absorbed into the social life of the town, mostly because the couple she is staying with, know so many people. She plays pool badly in the Legion and contributes to the swear jar often. She manages to blag a trip on a crabber and finds it hard heavy work moving the pots around on the boat. The sea has got a hold on her now as it has with the other fishermen.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book. Ash has a lyrical and distinct voice as she writes about the real side of Cornwall and the people that live there. And it is those people that she shares pints with, stands alongside in a fishing boat gutting fish that make this book. They are rich and complex characters who tell her their anxieties, fears, hope and dreams as she gets to know them better and settles into life in the town. Highly recommended.
May 6, 2021
In Dark, Salt, Clear, Lamorna Ash recounts her time among the fishermen in the small town of Newlyn, Cornwall. Her book is equal parts literature, anthropology, and memoir. Between her lush descriptions of fishing and life in the small town, we see her own journey of self-discovery: in Newlyn, among the brotherly fishermen, she discovers something that is missing from the big city, "a tangible, tactile rhythm, the tides, the patterns of life there that continue to echo through your own body long after you’ve left.” (179).
Yet Ash’s strengths - her lush prose and literary erudition - are also her weaknesses. Her sentences are packed with metaphor and literary allusion, but these often get in the way of what she's describing. For example, opening a chapter about a difficult day she had on the sea, she punctuates the greyness of the sky with a quote from a play by Georg Buchner and the explanation of a Cornish dialect word wisht, which apparently means pale or ugly. (157). By the time you’ve waded through this, you forget what she’s even talking about.
At other times her writing is too contrived and falls short of the intended effect; when she describes how living in Newlyn has made her think more about her relation to London, she writes: “On my return, I want to say more about my own place, to describe what it means to me to live somewhere filled with people from across the world, how miraculous it is that we all take the same tube together each day and breathe the same polluted air.” (173). Platitudes aside, there's nothing inherently miraculous about that.
My favourite example is when she recounts first gutting a stingray. The lips so resemble a human's that she is stunned: “Open and shut, open and shut, its mouth sounds out a wordless plea.” The music of these words sets a solemn tone that is immediately broken when she stabs the ray in the heart, “causing a thin trail of arrabbiata-sauce-coloured blood to seep from the wound." She concludes that "there is something deliberate and definitive about stabbing a fish in the heart." (256). I had to put the book down from laughing so hard; what a mistake to mix-in delicious arrabbiata sauce with the stingray's tragic plea.
While Ash does describe the struggles and tragedies of the fishermen and their very difficult lifestyle, she is prone to romanticising them, and in doing so she is rewriting and obscuring their stories. And their stories are the most interesting. The weaknesses in her narration are summed up beautifully in an episode wherein Ash, hanging around the pub, is trying to come up with a phrase that encapsulates what fishermen are. Sea-sculpted is her attempt, to which a fisherman replies “Bollocks! That’s not it at all! Stop trying to romanticise us, all right?”, before giving his own attempt: “We’re careworn.” (135-6). Ash’s contrived literary construction juxtaposes with the fisherman’s effortless lyricism. This juxtaposition perfectly describes the book, which veers quite wildly between homely folk-stories and utter pablum.
But ultimately, this book is hard to dislike. Dark, Salt, Clear has a good message, and despite all her romanticising and intellectualising, Ash conveys a love of home and place that's at risk of disappearing completely. This is the main thrust of the book, and it’s hard to reject: “Over time I come to accept it is because the relationship between people and place in Cornwall is different to that in cities. In some ways the two are indistinguishable here: people are place. They grow out of the land and sea…” (179).
Read this review on Substack.
Yet Ash’s strengths - her lush prose and literary erudition - are also her weaknesses. Her sentences are packed with metaphor and literary allusion, but these often get in the way of what she's describing. For example, opening a chapter about a difficult day she had on the sea, she punctuates the greyness of the sky with a quote from a play by Georg Buchner and the explanation of a Cornish dialect word wisht, which apparently means pale or ugly. (157). By the time you’ve waded through this, you forget what she’s even talking about.
At other times her writing is too contrived and falls short of the intended effect; when she describes how living in Newlyn has made her think more about her relation to London, she writes: “On my return, I want to say more about my own place, to describe what it means to me to live somewhere filled with people from across the world, how miraculous it is that we all take the same tube together each day and breathe the same polluted air.” (173). Platitudes aside, there's nothing inherently miraculous about that.
My favourite example is when she recounts first gutting a stingray. The lips so resemble a human's that she is stunned: “Open and shut, open and shut, its mouth sounds out a wordless plea.” The music of these words sets a solemn tone that is immediately broken when she stabs the ray in the heart, “causing a thin trail of arrabbiata-sauce-coloured blood to seep from the wound." She concludes that "there is something deliberate and definitive about stabbing a fish in the heart." (256). I had to put the book down from laughing so hard; what a mistake to mix-in delicious arrabbiata sauce with the stingray's tragic plea.
While Ash does describe the struggles and tragedies of the fishermen and their very difficult lifestyle, she is prone to romanticising them, and in doing so she is rewriting and obscuring their stories. And their stories are the most interesting. The weaknesses in her narration are summed up beautifully in an episode wherein Ash, hanging around the pub, is trying to come up with a phrase that encapsulates what fishermen are. Sea-sculpted is her attempt, to which a fisherman replies “Bollocks! That’s not it at all! Stop trying to romanticise us, all right?”, before giving his own attempt: “We’re careworn.” (135-6). Ash’s contrived literary construction juxtaposes with the fisherman’s effortless lyricism. This juxtaposition perfectly describes the book, which veers quite wildly between homely folk-stories and utter pablum.
But ultimately, this book is hard to dislike. Dark, Salt, Clear has a good message, and despite all her romanticising and intellectualising, Ash conveys a love of home and place that's at risk of disappearing completely. This is the main thrust of the book, and it’s hard to reject: “Over time I come to accept it is because the relationship between people and place in Cornwall is different to that in cities. In some ways the two are indistinguishable here: people are place. They grow out of the land and sea…” (179).
Read this review on Substack.
November 27, 2025
Pochłaniająca i refleksyjna podróż do korzeni, napisana wspaniałym stylem wędrówka na wybrzeże Kornwalii, wydobywająca z niej istotę miejsca, przyglądająca się rybołówstwu jako nie tyle zajęciu, co stylowi życia, fundament tamtejszej społeczności. I te nawiązania do Bishop, Woolf czy Lopeza!
December 14, 2020
What a sumptuously written and heart warming book. Lamorna Ash goes back to her mother's old village, Newlyn in Cornwall after feeling disillusioned with her time in London (who wouldn't?!). From here, she plans to stay over the summer, living with a couple of locals, visiting the local pub to meet new people, going on various hikes with other members of the community and, most exciting of all she plans to go out on a few trawler boats for a week at a time to see what happens and understand the fascination and love the fisherman have for their job and the sea. The book is just wonderful in everyway, Lamorna (named of course after an area near Newlyn and Mousehole) is a phenomenal writer and I spent a fair portion of the book sympathising heavily with her motion sickness whilst on the boats, as well as pining for her "need" to be near the sea in the fresh air surrounded by a community who all love and care about each other instead of the fumes and monotony of London. She also did a great job of incorporating lots of local history into her story, so we got to learn a lot about fishing a hundred years ago, the buildings, the family businesses - really anything we needed to know to make Newlyn part of us too. It genuinely broke my heart when it got to the end of the book and Lamorna had to leave, I wanted her to stay in this place that had become her home with the kind, thoughtful and eccentric people who had made her time there so rewarding and exciting.
September 18, 2020
It's hard to believe that this is Lamorna Ash's first book. Her writing quality feels as though she's been writing for years.
This book is exquisitely written, a beautiful poetic mixture of personal memoir, nature writing, fishing industry insight and the probing of small village mindset and psychology.
I thoroughly enjoyed the journey that Lamorna took us upon, whilst she spent time in Newlyn in Cornwall. Her writing has an expert mix of melancholy, hope and awareness, without pretension or self-consciousness.
I absolutely loved this and hope Lamorna goes on to write more.
This book is exquisitely written, a beautiful poetic mixture of personal memoir, nature writing, fishing industry insight and the probing of small village mindset and psychology.
I thoroughly enjoyed the journey that Lamorna took us upon, whilst she spent time in Newlyn in Cornwall. Her writing has an expert mix of melancholy, hope and awareness, without pretension or self-consciousness.
I absolutely loved this and hope Lamorna goes on to write more.
March 1, 2021
I could spend a lot of words here, but I won't. This is not a bad book. It might even be a good book. It's just a book I didn't like, primarily because it wasn't the book I wanted it to be. I wanted it to be (as the subtitle says) 'The Life of a Fishing Town', but the author's voice, the voice of her internal world, was much more present and much louder than the voice of the fishing town or its people. I wanted an ethnography and I got a (not bad, possibly good) personal memoir.
Much of the time Newlyn (the town) was so lost in Lamorna that I almost didn't finish the book.
Speaking of the author's voice, I do recommend the audiobook. When I nearly put the book down, I switched to audio format. For some reason I was much more accepting of the prominence of the author's 'voice' in the book when it was literally spoken in her voice. At that point the book seemed like it was supposed to be as personal and introspective as it was.
Occasionally the prose portraiture of Newlyn (and Mousehole) and the people who lived there was very good, exactly what I had wanted, but as a percentage of the whole those parts of the book were slim. If you're interested in the personal memoir of a young middle-class (self-confessed 'posh') London woman connecting with the Cornwall from which her family had come, this may be the book for you.
Much of the time Newlyn (the town) was so lost in Lamorna that I almost didn't finish the book.
Speaking of the author's voice, I do recommend the audiobook. When I nearly put the book down, I switched to audio format. For some reason I was much more accepting of the prominence of the author's 'voice' in the book when it was literally spoken in her voice. At that point the book seemed like it was supposed to be as personal and introspective as it was.
Occasionally the prose portraiture of Newlyn (and Mousehole) and the people who lived there was very good, exactly what I had wanted, but as a percentage of the whole those parts of the book were slim. If you're interested in the personal memoir of a young middle-class (self-confessed 'posh') London woman connecting with the Cornwall from which her family had come, this may be the book for you.
September 29, 2025
This pulled me in enough that a random sound outside my window would jar me and remind me I wasn't actually in Newlyn with Lamorna. Overall a cozy read, really enjoyed a thorough look into the Cornish fishing town, just could have been about 50 pages shorter.
May 30, 2021
An autobiography masquerading as the town of Newlyn’s history annals. Ash captures the beauty of this small town in Cornwall expertly, and makes the fishing industry come alive.
July 27, 2020
Last Monday, I arrived home after a trip to Cornwall. Not really, of course. My trip was courtesy of Dark, Salt, Clear, which, though short, fully immerses you in life in Newlyn, a small fishing village close to Penzance in Cornwall.
Like one of my favourite short story collections, The Sing of the Shore, it doesn’t romanticise Cornwall, which is perhaps the aspect I like best about Lamorna Ash’s book. Cornwall has become quite the tourist destination (I’ve been there myself), visitors hoping to get an ‘authentic’ experience of a romantic fishing village with quaint little cottages. But life in a fishing village is not quaint, and it is not romantic – it’s harsh, unforgiving, complicated, and highly depends on the whims of the weather, on fishing politics, and on the climate. Yet Newlyn keeps fighting not to turn into an empty shell of a place, filled only with rental cottages and touristy restaurants. Fishing is their livelihood and their pride.
Ash doesn’t judge or place blame when it comes to problematic fishing practices either, yet she doesn’t shy away from the subject. On the contrary, she talks to several fishermen about issues related to the climate and the fishing industry. Overfishing and global warming are keenly felt and observed by fishermen – in fact, they notice the ongoing changes much sooner and to a higher degree than those of us who live in larger cities.
She paints a rather double-edged picture of life at sea, and by the sea, as fishermen and relatives of fishermen. Crew equally dread and look forward to going back to sea, hate and love the loneliness far from land, are excited about and feel oddly in limbo when heading back to shore. Their families loathe their going to sea, yet couples sometimes find it difficult to spend longer periods of time together if trips are postponed or fishermen are forced to stay on land. Danger lurks, both in the waves, in the drinking, and in the fishermen’s very identity as fishermen – if you’re ‘stranded’ due to injuries, illness, or age, your whole identity seems to fall away, and many feel lost and depressed, some even taking their own lives. Yet the sea has an incredible pull, like a siren calling them all back out there, again and again.
I had hoped to be completely blown away by this one, but there were a few things that irked me a little bit. Firstly, I missed some sort of chronology. The chapters jump around in Ash’s time in Newlyn, mostly without any hints at the time that particular thing happens, but occasionally marked by something along the lines of “two weeks before the end of my last visit to Newlyn”. Sometimes it worked well – I liked how every third or so chapter returned to her week-long fishing trip with the Filadelfia – but more often than not it annoyed me. Second, Ash’s immaturity also got slightly on my nerves. She keeps marvelling at how someone in their start- to mid-twenties can be settled down with girlfriend/wife/boyfriend/husband, have children already or on the way, and can know what they want to do with their life and be content. It’s not *that* uncommon, even in larger cities – and it felt like an odd focus for a nature book.
On the other hand, I did like her more academic approach to writing this book, which is not necessarily something you get a lot of with nature writing; but Ash did some homework and some background reading, which ended up enriching the story. I also really enjoyed the different points of view she works into the narrative – those of fishermen, those staying behind, younger residents, older residents, a geologist, a birder, and many more besides.
Overall, a read I recommend - and an author I'd definitely pick up again.
/NK
Like one of my favourite short story collections, The Sing of the Shore, it doesn’t romanticise Cornwall, which is perhaps the aspect I like best about Lamorna Ash’s book. Cornwall has become quite the tourist destination (I’ve been there myself), visitors hoping to get an ‘authentic’ experience of a romantic fishing village with quaint little cottages. But life in a fishing village is not quaint, and it is not romantic – it’s harsh, unforgiving, complicated, and highly depends on the whims of the weather, on fishing politics, and on the climate. Yet Newlyn keeps fighting not to turn into an empty shell of a place, filled only with rental cottages and touristy restaurants. Fishing is their livelihood and their pride.
Ash doesn’t judge or place blame when it comes to problematic fishing practices either, yet she doesn’t shy away from the subject. On the contrary, she talks to several fishermen about issues related to the climate and the fishing industry. Overfishing and global warming are keenly felt and observed by fishermen – in fact, they notice the ongoing changes much sooner and to a higher degree than those of us who live in larger cities.
She paints a rather double-edged picture of life at sea, and by the sea, as fishermen and relatives of fishermen. Crew equally dread and look forward to going back to sea, hate and love the loneliness far from land, are excited about and feel oddly in limbo when heading back to shore. Their families loathe their going to sea, yet couples sometimes find it difficult to spend longer periods of time together if trips are postponed or fishermen are forced to stay on land. Danger lurks, both in the waves, in the drinking, and in the fishermen’s very identity as fishermen – if you’re ‘stranded’ due to injuries, illness, or age, your whole identity seems to fall away, and many feel lost and depressed, some even taking their own lives. Yet the sea has an incredible pull, like a siren calling them all back out there, again and again.
I had hoped to be completely blown away by this one, but there were a few things that irked me a little bit. Firstly, I missed some sort of chronology. The chapters jump around in Ash’s time in Newlyn, mostly without any hints at the time that particular thing happens, but occasionally marked by something along the lines of “two weeks before the end of my last visit to Newlyn”. Sometimes it worked well – I liked how every third or so chapter returned to her week-long fishing trip with the Filadelfia – but more often than not it annoyed me. Second, Ash’s immaturity also got slightly on my nerves. She keeps marvelling at how someone in their start- to mid-twenties can be settled down with girlfriend/wife/boyfriend/husband, have children already or on the way, and can know what they want to do with their life and be content. It’s not *that* uncommon, even in larger cities – and it felt like an odd focus for a nature book.
On the other hand, I did like her more academic approach to writing this book, which is not necessarily something you get a lot of with nature writing; but Ash did some homework and some background reading, which ended up enriching the story. I also really enjoyed the different points of view she works into the narrative – those of fishermen, those staying behind, younger residents, older residents, a geologist, a birder, and many more besides.
Overall, a read I recommend - and an author I'd definitely pick up again.
/NK
May 1, 2022
4.5
"Zawsze wierzyłam, że do najswobodniejszej wymiany zdań dochodzi, gdy nie stoimy twarzą w twarz: na spacerach, na ławkach, w samochodach z nogami na desce rozdzielczej i podczas wpatrywania się w morze. Gdy wzrok swobodnie wędruje, język staje się nieokiełznany. Każde słowo ma przestrzeń, żeby się rozwinąć i szybować. Tutaj odstępy między zdaniami stają się swoistą gramatyką, która rozkwita między mną a tym, kto pełni akurat wachtę. Ale przez następną godzinę nie rozmawiamy w ogóle."
Jeśli nie macie sposobności podróżować w rzeczywistości, wybierzcie się z Lamorną do Newlyn i tak jak ona pożyjcie życiem jego mieszkańców - co za książka! Pięknie napisana, trochę wspomnieniowa, trochę antropologiczna, nieromantyzująca rybołóstwa, nieskaczącą niestosownie po głowach mieszkańców tego małego rybackiego miasteczka w Kornwalii. Małomiasteczkowa, pełna ciekawych wglądów w życie lokalnej społeczności, przeplatana osobistą wędrówką wgłąb siebie. Niepretensjonalna, refleksyjna, cicha i spokojna, prywatna i reporterska, metaforyczna, ale i bardzo przyziemna. Uwielbiam takie połączenia. No oczywiście, że mi się szalenie podoba!
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"Istnieje kilka rodzajów ciemności. W miastach to nie tyle brak światła, ile jego odmiany – wieczory są naznaczone pomarańczowymi snopami z ulicznych latarni i białymi ze sklepowych witryn. Na wsi ciemność zapada niczym ciężki, gęsty całun, spotęgowany zielenią pól. Na morzu ciemność ma własną, odmienną postać. Nadciąga z każdego kąta jak wampir wysysający wszelkie źródła światła. Kolory bledną, a niebo twardnieje jak skała. Gdy gasną ostatnie światła wybrzeża, znika wszelka pewność. Nie można już odróżnić góry od dołu ani nieba od morza, a człowiek czuje się zawieszony gdzieś pomiędzy nimi."
"Zawsze wierzyłam, że do najswobodniejszej wymiany zdań dochodzi, gdy nie stoimy twarzą w twarz: na spacerach, na ławkach, w samochodach z nogami na desce rozdzielczej i podczas wpatrywania się w morze. Gdy wzrok swobodnie wędruje, język staje się nieokiełznany. Każde słowo ma przestrzeń, żeby się rozwinąć i szybować. Tutaj odstępy między zdaniami stają się swoistą gramatyką, która rozkwita między mną a tym, kto pełni akurat wachtę. Ale przez następną godzinę nie rozmawiamy w ogóle."
Jeśli nie macie sposobności podróżować w rzeczywistości, wybierzcie się z Lamorną do Newlyn i tak jak ona pożyjcie życiem jego mieszkańców - co za książka! Pięknie napisana, trochę wspomnieniowa, trochę antropologiczna, nieromantyzująca rybołóstwa, nieskaczącą niestosownie po głowach mieszkańców tego małego rybackiego miasteczka w Kornwalii. Małomiasteczkowa, pełna ciekawych wglądów w życie lokalnej społeczności, przeplatana osobistą wędrówką wgłąb siebie. Niepretensjonalna, refleksyjna, cicha i spokojna, prywatna i reporterska, metaforyczna, ale i bardzo przyziemna. Uwielbiam takie połączenia. No oczywiście, że mi się szalenie podoba!
📚📚📚
"Istnieje kilka rodzajów ciemności. W miastach to nie tyle brak światła, ile jego odmiany – wieczory są naznaczone pomarańczowymi snopami z ulicznych latarni i białymi ze sklepowych witryn. Na wsi ciemność zapada niczym ciężki, gęsty całun, spotęgowany zielenią pól. Na morzu ciemność ma własną, odmienną postać. Nadciąga z każdego kąta jak wampir wysysający wszelkie źródła światła. Kolory bledną, a niebo twardnieje jak skała. Gdy gasną ostatnie światła wybrzeża, znika wszelka pewność. Nie można już odróżnić góry od dołu ani nieba od morza, a człowiek czuje się zawieszony gdzieś pomiędzy nimi."
July 14, 2020
I really enjoyed this book from Lamorna Ash, which describes her experiences living in Newlyn, Cornwall over the course of a few trips in a period of several months.
I feel the key to making a non-fiction account interesting is the author having a fervent interest themself, which Ash clearly does. Whether it is fishing, history, politics, or even geology, you can feel the fascination that Ash has as she recounts her own experiences and describes other people's; it is impossible to stop yourself from being swept up in her enthusiasm.
I learnt a lot from this book about Cornwall and its history and now hope to have my own micro-adventure to Newlyn (even if this has been largely influenced by the numerous, extended and delectable descriptions of the local pubs).
4.5/5
I feel the key to making a non-fiction account interesting is the author having a fervent interest themself, which Ash clearly does. Whether it is fishing, history, politics, or even geology, you can feel the fascination that Ash has as she recounts her own experiences and describes other people's; it is impossible to stop yourself from being swept up in her enthusiasm.
I learnt a lot from this book about Cornwall and its history and now hope to have my own micro-adventure to Newlyn (even if this has been largely influenced by the numerous, extended and delectable descriptions of the local pubs).
4.5/5
April 6, 2020
Listening to BBC Radio 4, I stumbled upon 'Dark, Salt, Clear' read by Ell Potter. I lay down on my bed, closed my eyes and Potter's mesmerising voice dropped me into the Newlyn fishing community. I loved every second of it.
June 21, 2022
Lamorna and I were in the same year at uni. My overriding feeling while reading her book was astonishment (tinged with jealousy) that someone my own age could write something so good (and have it recognised).
The book follows the author's time spent in a small fishing village in remote Cornwall, where her family has roots. It's rather cleverly structured around a week-long trawler expedition Lamorna went on, with intervening chapters seamlessly describing different aspects of Newlyn. It really felt like a rounded, almost comprehensive account, not just a gloss.
This book has all the things you'd expect from social/cultural anthropology (fieldwork, stats, analysis of biases) while managing to be beautifully personal. We are led through both an exposition of this small village (and the fishing trade) and how Lamorna's understanding of herself developed during her time there. There are moments of real sadness and those of celebration, which Ash colours beautifully. Privilege and politics are both sensitively addressed.
Every page hums with curiosity, vitality and hunger for life. You can't help but be infected with Lamorna's joy and wonder at these new experiences. It is a youthful book in that way. Her recently finished English degree was palpable in her use of Elizabeth Bishop, Walter Benjamin and John Steinbeck to interpret her stories. Her voice is delightfully unselfconscious and delights in the shape, feel, sound of words.
My fears that this book would either take itself too seriously or be too pop non-fiction were both unfounded. Ash brings Cornwall to life, in all its human and natural beauty.
The book follows the author's time spent in a small fishing village in remote Cornwall, where her family has roots. It's rather cleverly structured around a week-long trawler expedition Lamorna went on, with intervening chapters seamlessly describing different aspects of Newlyn. It really felt like a rounded, almost comprehensive account, not just a gloss.
This book has all the things you'd expect from social/cultural anthropology (fieldwork, stats, analysis of biases) while managing to be beautifully personal. We are led through both an exposition of this small village (and the fishing trade) and how Lamorna's understanding of herself developed during her time there. There are moments of real sadness and those of celebration, which Ash colours beautifully. Privilege and politics are both sensitively addressed.
Every page hums with curiosity, vitality and hunger for life. You can't help but be infected with Lamorna's joy and wonder at these new experiences. It is a youthful book in that way. Her recently finished English degree was palpable in her use of Elizabeth Bishop, Walter Benjamin and John Steinbeck to interpret her stories. Her voice is delightfully unselfconscious and delights in the shape, feel, sound of words.
My fears that this book would either take itself too seriously or be too pop non-fiction were both unfounded. Ash brings Cornwall to life, in all its human and natural beauty.
September 9, 2021
Lamorna Ash traveled to Newlyn in Cornwall to do her fieldwork for her Master's Thesis on a fishing village. It was a fortuitous choice for her because it developed into a book and quite a longer stay.
When she arrives she finds it is just in time for the annual Lamorna Walk:
I find a sunny spot to lean against the wall with my Doom Bar ale and tap my feet to the music, growing more confident with each sip. A few feet away from me I notice a tall boy wearing a pair of round glasses who seems to be staring right at me. I tap my feet harder, pretending to be immersed in the music. A moment later he comes over. ‘This may seem strange,’ he says, ‘but are you Lamorna?’ I grin apologetically at the boy as if to say: That’s me!, reckoning that agreeing yes, I am Lamorna, in the Lamorna Wink pub, in Lamorna Cove, on the Lamorna Walk will probably be the most absurd declaration of identity I’ll ever have to make.
Lamorna Ash takes such care in introducing the reader to the town and its inhabitants, that one cannot help but wish to go there and even take a turn out on a trawler to do some serious fishing.
I so enjoyed this book and applaud Lamorna on the completion of this project.
When she arrives she finds it is just in time for the annual Lamorna Walk:
I find a sunny spot to lean against the wall with my Doom Bar ale and tap my feet to the music, growing more confident with each sip. A few feet away from me I notice a tall boy wearing a pair of round glasses who seems to be staring right at me. I tap my feet harder, pretending to be immersed in the music. A moment later he comes over. ‘This may seem strange,’ he says, ‘but are you Lamorna?’ I grin apologetically at the boy as if to say: That’s me!, reckoning that agreeing yes, I am Lamorna, in the Lamorna Wink pub, in Lamorna Cove, on the Lamorna Walk will probably be the most absurd declaration of identity I’ll ever have to make.
Lamorna Ash takes such care in introducing the reader to the town and its inhabitants, that one cannot help but wish to go there and even take a turn out on a trawler to do some serious fishing.
I so enjoyed this book and applaud Lamorna on the completion of this project.
April 29, 2024
A really unique and beautifully written travelogue. She captures the essence of the place she is in really well and it's lovely how she interwove her experience with those of her ancestors and family. I also learnt a lot about fishing which is fun!
July 7, 2020
Powerful and insightful observations in this documentary of Cornish life are attenuated by two problems: firstly, the rather old-fashioned contrast between salt-of-the-earth locals and the sophisticated author who tends to romanticize their world. Secondly, the book often turns into a rites-of-passage or self-discovery account for the author herself.
June 26, 2020
Loved this book as I am from Mousehole
March 13, 2021
I feel as though I just returned from a wonderful trip! What an amazing memoir! Lamorna Ash’s writing is poetic and lyrical, impressively embellished with references to the works of renowned authors such as Virginia Wolff and Herman Melville. You are there with her has she breathes in the essence of Newlyn, a picturesque Cornish fishing village with a colorful past. The author is actually named after a small cove in far southwest Cornwall. She thinks this was her mother’s way of maintaining a link to the place of her birth.
The recent, glowing review in the Wall Street Journal was irresistible, and I knew I had to read this book! Other forces in play were the glorious Masterpiece Theater production of Poldark, and also Rosamunde Pilcher’s The Shell Seekers. In both works the breathtaking Cornwall setting was a vivid backdrop. The prose here is beautiful, such that you want to linger and absorb it fully. For instance:
‘There are several kinds of darkness. In cities the darkness is not an absence of light but a variation of it. Evenings are marked by dusty orange washes from the streetlamps and the bright white strip lights from shops. Darkness in the countryside falls like a rich, thick shroud, complimented and intensified by the greenness of fields. At sea, darkness has a character of its own. It arrives from every angle, a vampire sucking all sources of illumination. Color drains from the world and the sky hardens to slate. As the last few lights of the coastline go out, all certainty vanishes; you can no longer distinguish up from down, sky from sea, but feel as if suspended somewhere in between.’
The author, a young anthropology student, needed material for her master’s thesis. The focus was to involve analysis of a small, tightly knit community whose livelihood had centered around a single industry for centuries. Through her mother’s background Lemorna had grown up with a keen awareness of Cornwall and hence the fishing village of Newlyn was perfect! The author explains that she feels irresistibly drawn to this place, to absorb the culture, learn the history and experience fishing as a way of life. Her mission begins, and she locates boarding with a local couple, having assured them that she likes cats and has no objection to smoking or drinks!
As the plan moves ahead, she is granted passage aboard a local fishing trawler, thereby getting a first taste of this way of life. Force 8 winds bring an early halt to the excursion, but she finds herself drawn irresistibly back:
‘But fishing is more addictive than I imagine, and the desire to go out to sea once more spreads like a rash across my body. This time I want to be out for longer, I want to get more involved, maybe with a more roughly hewn, typically Cornish crew, on one of those rusting crafts…….’
She has lots of spunk and proceeds to go to sea on various fishing vessels for days at a time, being the lone female! The intense bonds which exist are many, among the crew as well as the townspeople. To say they work hard and play hard is an understatement! Interestingly, there is no alcohol at sea, but when the fishermen come ashore, revelry abounds until the wee hours in the various pubs. Always a safe return is worth celebrating, and the author enthusiastically embraces the tradition!
Through her several fishing excursions, she acquires a clear sense of the strong bonds forged among the crew during days at sea. Also becoming more apparent with the passage of days ashore is the fierce closeness of the towns people, linked as they are by their vibrant past as well as simple comradery and concern for each other.
“I don’t think I ever knew what community was before staying with Denise and Lofty. Because those who live in the town also work in the town and socialize here too, there is a depth to their relationship virtually unheard of in sprawling cities, where you are never served by the same cashier twice…………….’
Lemorna accomplished her mission, and I was right there with her! I could almost feel the motion of the waves and had genuine sympathy for her bout of seasickness! The writing is so full bodied I have been unable to resist the quotes – so many demanded to be shared! Forgive me!
‘And yet, fishing itself is not one thing. There is not some illustrative kernel that, when got at, will open up to reveal its essence. It is the staccato rhythms of the physical work at sea, pulling glistening guts out of unsuspecting fish and scattering ice on their bodies; it is every shared meal, every unusual thing pulled up in the nets; it is music in Don’s sound system, the sea dreams, the gulls doggedly following us; it is the sparks of intense joy and closeness felt between the crew, as well as every note of loneliness.’
And last but certainly not least:
‘Fishermen’s wives must be tough, forever asked to hold on, to hold the family together on their own for that while longer. The readjustment once the men have returned from sea is not straightforward either. Women accustomed to running households alone, practically as single mothers, are suddenly faced with a knackered, unshaven, fish-smelling, stay-at-home husband sprawled on their sofas. It can take ages to get used to one another again.’
The author has been compared to some travel writers. Indeed, this is accurate – she surely takes you there!
The recent, glowing review in the Wall Street Journal was irresistible, and I knew I had to read this book! Other forces in play were the glorious Masterpiece Theater production of Poldark, and also Rosamunde Pilcher’s The Shell Seekers. In both works the breathtaking Cornwall setting was a vivid backdrop. The prose here is beautiful, such that you want to linger and absorb it fully. For instance:
‘There are several kinds of darkness. In cities the darkness is not an absence of light but a variation of it. Evenings are marked by dusty orange washes from the streetlamps and the bright white strip lights from shops. Darkness in the countryside falls like a rich, thick shroud, complimented and intensified by the greenness of fields. At sea, darkness has a character of its own. It arrives from every angle, a vampire sucking all sources of illumination. Color drains from the world and the sky hardens to slate. As the last few lights of the coastline go out, all certainty vanishes; you can no longer distinguish up from down, sky from sea, but feel as if suspended somewhere in between.’
The author, a young anthropology student, needed material for her master’s thesis. The focus was to involve analysis of a small, tightly knit community whose livelihood had centered around a single industry for centuries. Through her mother’s background Lemorna had grown up with a keen awareness of Cornwall and hence the fishing village of Newlyn was perfect! The author explains that she feels irresistibly drawn to this place, to absorb the culture, learn the history and experience fishing as a way of life. Her mission begins, and she locates boarding with a local couple, having assured them that she likes cats and has no objection to smoking or drinks!
As the plan moves ahead, she is granted passage aboard a local fishing trawler, thereby getting a first taste of this way of life. Force 8 winds bring an early halt to the excursion, but she finds herself drawn irresistibly back:
‘But fishing is more addictive than I imagine, and the desire to go out to sea once more spreads like a rash across my body. This time I want to be out for longer, I want to get more involved, maybe with a more roughly hewn, typically Cornish crew, on one of those rusting crafts…….’
She has lots of spunk and proceeds to go to sea on various fishing vessels for days at a time, being the lone female! The intense bonds which exist are many, among the crew as well as the townspeople. To say they work hard and play hard is an understatement! Interestingly, there is no alcohol at sea, but when the fishermen come ashore, revelry abounds until the wee hours in the various pubs. Always a safe return is worth celebrating, and the author enthusiastically embraces the tradition!
Through her several fishing excursions, she acquires a clear sense of the strong bonds forged among the crew during days at sea. Also becoming more apparent with the passage of days ashore is the fierce closeness of the towns people, linked as they are by their vibrant past as well as simple comradery and concern for each other.
“I don’t think I ever knew what community was before staying with Denise and Lofty. Because those who live in the town also work in the town and socialize here too, there is a depth to their relationship virtually unheard of in sprawling cities, where you are never served by the same cashier twice…………….’
Lemorna accomplished her mission, and I was right there with her! I could almost feel the motion of the waves and had genuine sympathy for her bout of seasickness! The writing is so full bodied I have been unable to resist the quotes – so many demanded to be shared! Forgive me!
‘And yet, fishing itself is not one thing. There is not some illustrative kernel that, when got at, will open up to reveal its essence. It is the staccato rhythms of the physical work at sea, pulling glistening guts out of unsuspecting fish and scattering ice on their bodies; it is every shared meal, every unusual thing pulled up in the nets; it is music in Don’s sound system, the sea dreams, the gulls doggedly following us; it is the sparks of intense joy and closeness felt between the crew, as well as every note of loneliness.’
And last but certainly not least:
‘Fishermen’s wives must be tough, forever asked to hold on, to hold the family together on their own for that while longer. The readjustment once the men have returned from sea is not straightforward either. Women accustomed to running households alone, practically as single mothers, are suddenly faced with a knackered, unshaven, fish-smelling, stay-at-home husband sprawled on their sofas. It can take ages to get used to one another again.’
The author has been compared to some travel writers. Indeed, this is accurate – she surely takes you there!
May 28, 2024
Ash's writing deserves 5-stars without hesitation. This is simply not the type of book I would typically pick up but it was given to me by a trusted reader and with good reason! I was shocked to discover how young the author was. The breadth of her literary references is impressive and her poetic language brought to vivid focus the landscape of this small fishing town and its' rhythms of life. If you like this type of book, it is a must read. If you've never read a book like this and are curious, you won't be disappointed!
September 19, 2020
Part of the title, Life in a Cornish Fishing town is a little misleading, yes Ash shows us aspects of that life in Newlyn, but a large chunk of this book takes place at sea aboard various fishing vessels.
Ash is a fantastic writer and her prose has a romantic poetical quality to it. This book is an anthropological study of Cornish fishermen, hardly surprising Ash goes down this path, as she has a qualification in the subject. What does come across is how different the men are on land than when at sea.
At times Ash does veer away from the subject, like a toddler who thinks up something and needs to explore that new exciting theme. She is obviously very intelligent and quotes extensively from poetry and literature as part of her narrative.
A book that was a pleasant surprise detailing life among a Cornish crew where fishing is a dangerous living once out at sea.
Ash is a fantastic writer and her prose has a romantic poetical quality to it. This book is an anthropological study of Cornish fishermen, hardly surprising Ash goes down this path, as she has a qualification in the subject. What does come across is how different the men are on land than when at sea.
At times Ash does veer away from the subject, like a toddler who thinks up something and needs to explore that new exciting theme. She is obviously very intelligent and quotes extensively from poetry and literature as part of her narrative.
A book that was a pleasant surprise detailing life among a Cornish crew where fishing is a dangerous living once out at sea.
March 31, 2020
This was presented in 5, 15-minute segments by the BBC. I enjoyed this and would have liked it to have been longer. I'm sure there was a lot more information and experience between the covers. Curiously, there was no hint of compassion--- at least not in this version---towards the animals. I kept expecting it as a counterpoint to the raw practicality of the life of a fisherman. I dreaded having my emotions engaged, but at the same time feel it was an opportunity missed for the author to connect with her readers.
April 5, 2020
Reading this book is almost a meditative act. The writing is stunning - the descriptions of the small coastal village of Newlyn and the people who live there brings the place alive. The author's account of her time out at sea and the thoughts and experiences she had transport the reader so that you feel as though you are on deck with her. This is a writer to watch - it is her first book, but it surely can't be her last. Highly recommended for readers of narrative non-fiction who enjoy lyrical writing.
April 12, 2020
So I happened to chance upon this book after seeing a tweet about radio4 book of the week.
Read a review and bought the book. Absolutely loved it, some of the introspective moments the author has are real eye openers.
The book does open a whole new world.
Read a review and bought the book. Absolutely loved it, some of the introspective moments the author has are real eye openers.
The book does open a whole new world.
May 24, 2020
Beautiful, poetic and fascinating ✨ Listened to it via Audible read by the author and it is a beautiful listen. Her descriptions are astounding, making me want to get the physical book as well one day. Definitely one of my favourites for this year!
March 28, 2023
Started out good but dragged on a bit….the ‘outsider’ looking in to Cornish fishing life got a bit tiresome.
February 26, 2023
This isn’t the book I thought it was going to be. It turned out to be less of a memoir and more of a Robert Macfarlane style exploration of what it means to be a Cornish fishing town. That’s not a bad thing but meant I labelled the book wrongly in my head and didn’t necessarily give it the space it needed from the start.
An interesting book, full of information I didn’t know and probably will never fully understand being not part of a fishing community. We visited Hastings yesterday and I spent time in the Fishing museum giving some of the words an element of three dimensional experience. Fortunate timing.
An interesting book, full of information I didn’t know and probably will never fully understand being not part of a fishing community. We visited Hastings yesterday and I spent time in the Fishing museum giving some of the words an element of three dimensional experience. Fortunate timing.
September 26, 2022
I picked up this book whilst away in Cornwall, I wanted to read something set there. It didn’t really work for me, I struggled to really understand what the author was trying to achieve. As a description of Cornwall, it’s landscape and community I didn’t feel it had the atmosphere or power of the poems that were referenced throughout. As a memoir or account of her year I found it rambling in it’s style and a little “rose tinted”.
March 17, 2021
Life in a Cornish fishing village through the eyes of a young woman from London trying to figure it all out. A delight.
January 31, 2021
author writes wonderfully describing her experiences in this small cornish fishing village and as she goes out of working fishing boats. REally gives a personal description of what it's like to be a fishing person today, in a small closeknit cornish town.
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