Description
Garrett Carr
The Boy from the Sea (Picador, 6 February)
The book is primarily about men who don’t understand themselves emotionally
Photograph: Hannah McCallum/The Observer
Garrett Carr’s debut novel – which follows his children’s books and The Rule of the Land, a nonfiction work about walking Ireland’s border – is set in the 1970s in the fishing town of Killybegs, Donegal, where he grew up. “Fishing communities haven’t really featured in Irish writing,” says Carr, 49, who now lives in Belfast with his wife and two sons and teaches creative writing at the Seamus Heaney Centre, Queen’s University. “So I decided to step in and do it.”
Carr’s father was a fisher. Perhaps the reason men like his father didn’t write books is because “they’re just a bit more internal as a people”, the author thinks. “My father was like that. He could be gregarious, but he was also capable of being a silent horizon-watcher who didn’t go on about things. And there’d be an admiration in that culture for those strong, silent types.”
Ambrose Bonnar in The Boy from the Sea is another such fisher, and a person who lives “without negotiation”, Carr says. One day in Killybegs the tide brings in a baby in a barrel. Ambrose and his wife, Christine, adopt the baby and name him Brendan. The book follows Brendan’s childhood and adolescence, as the people of Killybegs come to believe he has a spiritual power, and his older brother, Declan, resents him for that.
Carr describes the brothers as being “on a fast train to what we now call toxic masculinity”. The book “is about people, primarily men, who don’t understand themselves emotionally. And this is not to say that they’re bad people. In fact, their instincts are often really good – but they don’t know why they’re doing the things they’re doing.”
To make that work, Carr sought a narrative voice that “had a little more emotional intelligence than the characters”. He settled on the third-person plural of the townsfolk – “we” – offering a distance reminiscent of George Eliot or Henry James, as well as an opportunity for humour: Declan “cried at the end of ET, although our town’s general consensus was that the creature was better off in space”, Carr writes.
It’s a bold stylistic choice, but Carr wears it with ease. The result is a delectably warm, communal voice through which the reader bears witness to one family’s most private moments.
What led you to writing?
I went to art school in Dublin, and then moved sideways into digital stuff during the dotcom boom in the 1990s. And then – what can I say? I developed a love of reading, and that made me want to write.
What do you think the people of Killybegs will make of the novel?
I’m not too worried about that. I think it’s a humane telling of the place. And even if people think something’s a bit harsh, they’ll probably accept it with a smile.
What kind of research into fishing did you do?
I got in touch with a whole heap of fishermen from my father’s time who showed me photographs of the boats they worked on. Later, people used camcorders, and they have stuck the footage on YouTube without any voiceover. I watched hours of that.
What is your favourite story set at sea?
The big exception to not seeing ourselves in stories was Jaws, which I always felt was a big film in Killybegs. Simply using a boat as a crucible for drama was something that we recognised. There’s a homage to Jaws in the book, in a scene where Ambrose and Christine compare their scars. That Jaws scene is the best bit of homosocial bonding ever put in a film.
EP-H
| Period | 26 Jan 2025 |
|---|
Media coverage
Media coverage
Title An Observer Best New Novelist for 2025, interview with Garrett Carr Degree of recognition National Media name/outlet The Observer Media type Print Country/Territory United Kingdom Date 26/01/2025 Description Garrett Carr
The Boy from the Sea (Picador, 6 February)
The book is primarily about men who don’t understand themselves emotionally
Garrett Carr posing for a studio portrait sitting on a chair with legs outstretched.
View image in fullscreen
Photograph: Hannah McCallum/The Observer
Garrett Carr’s debut novel – which follows his children’s books and The Rule of the Land, a nonfiction work about walking Ireland’s border – is set in the 1970s in the fishing town of Killybegs, Donegal, where he grew up. “Fishing communities haven’t really featured in Irish writing,” says Carr, 49, who now lives in Belfast with his wife and two sons and teaches creative writing at the Seamus Heaney Centre, Queen’s University. “So I decided to step in and do it.”
Carr’s father was a fisher. Perhaps the reason men like his father didn’t write books is because “they’re just a bit more internal as a people”, the author thinks. “My father was like that. He could be gregarious, but he was also capable of being a silent horizon-watcher who didn’t go on about things. And there’d be an admiration in that culture for those strong, silent types.”
Ambrose Bonnar in The Boy from the Sea is another such fisher, and a person who lives “without negotiation”, Carr says. One day in Killybegs the tide brings in a baby in a barrel. Ambrose and his wife, Christine, adopt the baby and name him Brendan. The book follows Brendan’s childhood and adolescence, as the people of Killybegs come to believe he has a spiritual power, and his older brother, Declan, resents him for that.
Carr describes the brothers as being “on a fast train to what we now call toxic masculinity”. The book “is about people, primarily men, who don’t understand themselves emotionally. And this is not to say that they’re bad people. In fact, their instincts are often really good – but they don’t know why they’re doing the things they’re doing.”
To make that work, Carr sought a narrative voice that “had a little more emotional intelligence than the characters”. He settled on the third-person plural of the townsfolk – “we” – offering a distance reminiscent of George Eliot or Henry James, as well as an opportunity for humour: Declan “cried at the end of ET, although our town’s general consensus was that the creature was better off in space”, Carr writes.
It’s a bold stylistic choice, but Carr wears it with ease. The result is a delectably warm, communal voice through which the reader bears witness to one family’s most private moments.
What led you to writing?
I went to art school in Dublin, and then moved sideways into digital stuff during the dotcom boom in the 1990s. And then – what can I say? I developed a love of reading, and that made me want to write.
What do you think the people of Killybegs will make of the novel?
I’m not too worried about that. I think it’s a humane telling of the place. And even if people think something’s a bit harsh, they’ll probably accept it with a smile.
What kind of research into fishing did you do?
I got in touch with a whole heap of fishermen from my father’s time who showed me photographs of the boats they worked on. Later, people used camcorders, and they have stuck the footage on YouTube without any voiceover. I watched hours of that.
What is your favourite story set at sea?
The big exception to not seeing ourselves in stories was Jaws, which I always felt was a big film in Killybegs. Simply using a boat as a crucible for drama was something that we recognised. There’s a homage to Jaws in the book, in a scene where Ambrose and Christine compare their scars. That Jaws scene is the best bit of homosocial bonding ever put in a film.
EP-HProducer/Author The Observer URL https://www.theguardian.com/books/2025/jan/26/the-best-new-novelists-for-2025 Persons Garrett Carr