| Title | : | The Plover |
| Author | : | |
| Rating | : | |
| ISBN | : | 1250034779 |
| ISBN-10 | : | 9781250034779 |
| Language | : | English |
| Format Type | : | Hardcover |
| Number of Pages | : | 311 |
| Publication | : | First published April 8, 2014 |
Declan O Donnell has left Oregon aboard his boat, the Plover, to escape the life that’s so troubled him on land. He sets course west into the Pacific in search of solitude. Instead, he finds a crew, each in search of something themselves, and what at first seems a lonely sea voyage becomes a rapturous, heartfelt celebration of life’s surprising paths, planned and unplanned.
The Plover Reviews
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In my 20's, I read several books by an author named Tom Robbins, who wrote wonderful novels populated by strange and wonderful characters, most of them with something that made them just a little different. This book reminds me of those novels in the same way: however fantastical the story, however unrealistic the situation, the writing is so good that I will follow those characters to the ends of the earth with no questions. And the ends of the earth is very nearly where we go aboard Declan O'Connell 's little boat,the Plover.
He starts out on the coast of Oregon, determined to sail alone due west to find solitude and peace, and escape from all the problems of civilization. He ends up in the Hawaiian Islands with an entourage of 4 men, 1 woman, 1 child, and a bevy of birds. There is magic along the way, and miracles, and love and friendship, not to mention the wisdom and the humor and knowledge and courage of the people on board.
I started this book because I needed a peaceful, quiet read for a few days, just like Declan needed to get away from the world of men when he set sail. Declan and I both realized that the world is a vast and magnificent place encompassing more than we will ever know, but you have to be open to the possibility of change and growth to let it in. A truly great read, and I'm a Brian Doyle fan for sure. -
A magical, wonderful sea adventure-coming of middle age-fantasy-exploration-ode to the watery world-hard to describe but must read. I now know I must get to my copy of
Mink River and the Brian Doyle back catalogue. This was not even on my agenda to read until I happened to see it on the new release table at the library and read a few paragraphs. I was caught.
There is science, environmental science.
consider, for a moment, that the longest chain of
mountains and volcanoes and hills and guyots and cliffs
and sheering walls on the face of the earth is invisible
to the eye, unless you are plunged into the blue realm of
Pacifica, which houses the Emperor Seamounts, which stretch
nearly four thousand miles across the wild ocean like the
longest grin there is; and consider further that only the
very tail of this endless ridge, this vast vaulting, peers
above the surface, and it is christened Hawaii....
(p 18)
One Declan O'Donnell has taken to sea, aboard his ship, The Plover, sailing west out of Oregon, with no port in mind and no companion save a gull who seems to be flying along. There are adventures to come, places to see, perhaps people to meet, but I'm not going to say because I don't want to spoil the magic of those moments. They are meant to be encountered as you read, not from reviews. But the past is probably OK.
And thinking of Christmas Declan suddenly got a wash
of old old memory from when he was maybe ten years old
and his sister Grace was maybe eight and the boys were
little crawlers, this was before their mom left dragging
her suitcase down the driveway and never came back, before
the old man froze up inside totally and hated everyone and
everything, and he was sitting by the fire....No tree, no
presents, no special dinner, but no punching or screaming
or cursing either; and everyone together. Best Christmas
ever. (pp60-61)
And more ocean beauty:
Another time flying fish flew over the boat east to west
in such numbers that it seemed the Plover was covered with
a silver sheen, silver snow, a living shroud, a moist
blanket, a shivering roof. Another time the sky was so
stuffed with stars and so many of them shooting stars that
you would swear the stars were plummeting into the sea
faster than the sea could drink them. (p 149)
And one last quote that made me smile and made me happy for my dreams:
Certainly so, certainly so says the minister. But if
we do not dream, then I think perhaps we are misusing our
heads. They are not put on our shoulders only to be farms
for hair. (p 259)
I'll leave it to you to find out who the minister is and what his dreams are :)
Very highly recommended
-
If you are drawn to words, Brian Doyle's Song to the Pacific will prove a delight. If you are drawn to the ocean, it will be even more so. His writing exuberance is evident from the first chapter as words leap over and over each other like porpoises plying the playful sea.
At first you think it will be the story of a lone sailor, Declan, moving philosophically around the lonely Pacific on his 30-foot home-with-a-hull, the Plover, but soon you realize that this is a story about humanity as much as a single man and the briny.
Thus, Doyle introduces us to a biologist friend, Piko, and his traumatized and speechless daughter, Pipa. Then there's the resident gull. And stowaway tern. And two rogue rats.
That's not all, either. Before the end, the boat will be packed to the gunwales with the flotsam and jetsam of human life that fall the boat's way during its many mild adventures (no over-the-top here, thank you). Together they become a microcosm for all that is good and hopeful and joyous in life.
I could easily criticize the book for a leaky plot, but who needs a plot with such writing as this? Doyle is not afraid to make up words; to indulge in bouts of Realism, Romanticism, or Magical Realism if it suits his writing mood; to have birds, animals, and fish talk; to wonder about life and death and the meaning of our short cosmic streak across the heavens; to do, in short, as he pleases without worrying about formulas and conventions and reviewers and, who knows, book royalties and such. Nope. Just Declan and his favorite, memorized Edmund Burke speeches, thinking and talking and piloting as they see fit.
A typical reverie: "One time when the wind was high and all sail set Piko tied himself to a longline and tied his feet to cedar planks and surfed behind the boat until the rope snapped and he described a somersault very nearly landing back on his feet again in the water but not quite. Another time a pod of whales swam right at the boat their massive foreheads like seething walls in the water but at the last possible second they split into two lines and slid past the boat making booming sounds so deep and thorough and amused that Pipa mewled happily for an hour afterward. Another time a shark circled the boat for an hour until a leap of porpoises shot past and hammered the shark mercilessly until it fled. Another time flying fish flew over the boat east to west in such numbers that it seemed the Plover was covered with a silver sheen, silver snow, a living shroud, a moist blanket, a shivering roof. Another time the sky was so stuffed with stars and so many of them shooting stars that you would swear the stars were plummeting into the sea faster than the sea could drink them."
Like so. Run-on poetry with sparse punctuation. A long-noted song. And such characterization and description that you will briefly forget that the literary world hawked such things as plots and say you wish you could continue the voyage when this particular one comes to port as all must.
Recommended to poets, sailors, Melville fans, writer's writers, literary readers, freedom lovers, part-time philosophers, and those on the edge of despair with the land-lubbing world. -
Lyricism; humor; an expansive worldview; a sort of magical realism (as I said of his
Mink River); a guardian gull; and a twist on
Moby-Dick or, The Whale (There’s no whale and that’s not the twist.): I enjoyed this immensely, though I think I enjoyed
Mink River just a bit more, but perhaps that’s because I read it first.
I’d been meaning to read another book by Doyle for awhile now and decided to read this right away after hearing of his recent death. His final words at the end of his ‘Thanks & Notes’ are rendered even more poignant by a too-soon death: …I am the luckiest ship ever. -
I loved "Mink River," which made it into my Top Ten. "The Plover" is equally wonderful. Brian Doyle is a writer's writer who respects and trusts the reader. He is not only a treasure to Portland, Oregon, he is a treasure to the broad world of literature. I'll stop now, before I gush all over myself.
-
The Plover is not exactly a sequel to Mink River -- more of a companion piece -- but fans of the latter will be thrilled to find out what happened to one of the most beloved characters. After sailing his little boat off the final pages of Mink River, the story of Declan O'Donnell continues in The Plover. Declan is a man of serious solitude and he is pleased to be starting a journey of peace and quiet. But, there is no quiet in Brian Doyle's head -- it is full of magic, mutterings and musings, and once these things are in motion, there is no stopping them.
Before Declan knows what has hit him, he has a boat full of bodies -- both human and otherwise -- along for the ride; “…ranging in size from [enormous] to an infinitesimal acorn barnacle, just born as this sentence began, and no bigger than the period which is about to arrive, here.” No, there will be no solitude for Declan -- and how lucky for us. The Plover is a rambling, charming sea voyage, full of thrills, danger and narrow escapes.
It’s also an excellent observation on the nature of things unseen: on what may be, on ideas, on imaginings, aspirations, and dreams. There is so much substance underneath Doyle’s dazzling, rich language, I just wanted to read each sentence over and over until every whisper of nuance was absorbed, recognized, and experienced. Reading Doyle's writing is an enchanting discovery of how shattering and awe-inspiring language can be, and his literary contortions are both improbable and captivating at the same time.
Remember the first book you loved as a child? Remember how you wished so hard you lived in that book? That feeling is Doyle's "normal" and we should all be so lucky to live in his world. -
This Plover Is Not a Bird
Due to my current lack of reading comprehension which began when I was in grade school, I am going to do a continuing review of this book which may end up in its being dfed. And if I recall correctly this author is a nature writer, which is why I thought this book was about a plover, which bird I love.
I used to see plovers on the beach in Morro Bay, CA. Little birds with long thin legs that ran up and down the beach looking for bugs or whatever it was that they ate.
But, alas, the plover is the name of a boat. Maybe a sailboat. Whatever the type of boat, it was ocean worthy. And the author, or the main character, had a pet bird, a seagull named Herring. They talked to each other everyday, the gull from the sky as he was hovering over the boat, and the man below. The man told him that he better not steal anything onboard, and the gull said, "Ha,ha, ha, ha. (I at least looked up seagull sounds.) Then after a feew days, his seagull flew away. Birds don't like being pets.
So, then the main character was met by another boat whose man, Enreque, threatened to kill him. But he decided to leave him alone. The man wondered what a Spanish man was doing on a Russian boat. Hmm. Maybe he stole it. Maybe he was a pirate. I am clever to think of this.
And now he has picked up two passengers, a man and his daughter. And they go through a bad storm and the daughter falls into the ocean but is saved.
But I am bored with this book and the man's silliness, just as you may be with mine own silliness. Tune in to see if I found
this book readable.
Later, This writer also makes a list of all the sea books that he has read, So I put them on my to read list and hope they're better than this book. Next he was listing all the items he took on his boat and he had 5 fishing rods. I remember the rods because he did not know why he had so many. Then he talked about the items that were floating on the ocean. A seal skull Wrapped up in a net. Women's items that you can find in a restroom. I imagined a plane flying over and opening up the trap door in the bathroom.
Then in time after all of his rattling on, I, like the seagull, flew away. -
Declan O Donnell seeks solitude and anonymity and so sets sail alone from Defoe Bay, Oregon into the vast Pacific Ocean in a tiny boat called The Plover with no agenda, except not sinking, and no destination, except west and then west. A set of Edmund Burke’s speeches is his only reading material, and oh how perfectly Burke’s words are quoted here. Of course Declan’s simple plan goes awry, and suddenly the most unconventional characters ever begin to inhabit his solitary world.
Declan is first introduced to readers in Doyle’s debut novel ‘Mink River’ (a 5-star read for me), and it would be helpful to understand the circumstances that drive him toward this journey, but ‘The Plover’ works fine as a stand-alone. I loved Declan and his ocean and his boat and his refugees. I chuckled and worried and cheered and reflected for 300+ beautiful pages. This is a book that should not be rushed - it ebbs and flows and dips and swells, just like the Pacific Ocean, and you have to slow down in order to appreciate fully the meditative prose, the rich descriptions of animals and environment, and the magical realism here. What a tremendous loss to the world of words that Brian Doyle passed away last year at age 60. He was an incredibly gifted writer and an author I highly recommend to all. 4.5 stars, and one small sample of the thought-provoking writing you can expect in this novel:
“Can a man who has often and pointedly claimed independence from all constraint and relationship continue on such a course for his entire lifetime . . . without finally arriving not at a welcome solitude but at a fearsome loneliness and desiccation of the soul?”
~ Declan O Donnell, musing aboard The Plover -
I loved it. Just loved it.
A few years ago I read a completely different book that had a quote that somehow applies to The Plover & to my reading of it. “Sometimes when she told stories about the past her eyes would get teary from all the memories she had, but they weren't tears. She wasn't crying. They were just the memories, leaking out.” (The quote is from
A Tale for the Time Being by Ruth Ozeki.) The Plover is not my book. Not my story. It doesn't hold my memories. But when the tears leaked out of my eyes while reading, that quote is exactly what I thought of. It doesn't even make sense in a way, yet it does somehow. The Plover touched my heart & mind in so many ways. This story is well- & beautifully-told, a mix of reality & magic (not magical realism, more the magic of wonder & awe of the world we live in & with); true characters full of flaws, & wonder, & hope. A book that gave me some tears, smiles, & hope in our world. Gorgeous.
(Editing to add.... I said it's not magical realism. Yet, there are some touches there too. To me, though, they were so natural to the story that I see it more as an honoring of traditions or beliefs that all living things communicate, be they human, or animal, or plant. In my world, talking animals or plants are normal in some stories, but may be categorized differently by other readers. To each his own.) -
I checked this out based on the glowing review of my favorite bookseller, waxing poetic about Doyle's prose. I HATE his prose.
Note to author:
1. If you have more than one semicolon in a sentence and it isn't providing a list of phrases, you need to seriously think about the use of periods. Reading your text is exhausting.
2. IF you were attempting to record the protagonist's stream of conscious thoughts by the multiple semicolons and commas that lead the reader along a crooked path, the technique failed.
3. The use of the f-word -- even when you replace the "u" with an "e" serves no purpose other than to illustrate your lack of command over the English language. It is trite and superfluous. -
Take a bow, Mr. Doyle, and publisher Thomas Dunne, too! A book like The Plover has becoming such a rarity lately, your work shines like a star breaking through the clouds. Now, I can see how the run-on sentences and dancing viewpoints might daunt some readers; but as a sailor with close to forty years on the water, I found the cadence of the main character’s almost steady chants of self-deprecation and fix-it preoccupations very familiar. This is not a book for every reader; but rather, for those who love the sea, love boats, and have a glimmer that there is much hidden in plain sight in our world. Having known the feeling of shore-legs is also a definite plus for readers of this heaving, liquid prose.
The Plover is the last remaining love of a man who wants to free himself from expectations and involvement with others. He’s chosen an ungainly cedar planked fishing trawler jury-fitted with a mast and sailing gear. He’s named her for a small but plucky shore bird and launched himself into the immensity of the Pacific with only a single idea of course: West. His carefully constructed solitude is broken almost immediately by a friendly gull and an odd rag-tag passenger list that seems to grow with every landfall despite his best intentions to keep it simple.
Within these sometimes hilarious, sometime frightening and regularly mysterious pages, he discovers that he can love other people as much as he loves his little boat. Mr. Doyle has crafted some of the most beautiful descriptive passages I’ve read and some of the most harrowing action, too. His characters are all much deeper than I initially expected. To think that someone this driven to deny his humanity could find redemption in the loving grace of an afflicted young child, the easy humor of a close friend, the deeply spiritual grasp of an almost silent Island woman and the evolving, miraculous worldview of a former politician, is incredible. Fighting storms and a maniacal ship’s captain on the open seas, adds just the right amount of accessible conflict, but in the tradition of the fantasy writing of Yann Martel, the incredible can still be deeply moving. For me, the story of the seemingly aimless voyage of The Plover, found a landfall right in my heart. -
I can't believe that I put this book off for so long! On the bright side however, discovering an fortuitously great book brings the same gleeful joy as finding cash in your couch. And boy did I ever hit the jackpot with this gem.
I will admit that it took me a while to get into this book but once I did it was hard to put down. I found myself thinking about it all day and dreaming about it all night. I loved all the characters in this story and the writing is smooth and magical and wise. So wise! There is a heaviness to this book but also a lightness. The adventure was wonderful and I found myself at the edge of my seat when reading about the villain. I greedily gobbled up this amazing book and now I sit, full and satisfied and happy, for having experienced this book. 4.5/5
I received this book for free in exchange for an honest review. -
Original review found at
http://kristineandterri.blogspot.ca/2...
I received an advanced readers copy of this book through a Goodreads giveaway in exchange for an honest review. The expected publication date is April 8, 2014.
I had very high expectations for this book after seeing all of the positive reviews on Goodreads. I couldn't wait to dive into it and see for myself.
Unfortunately this book fell short for me. I struggled to get through it and found that I could only read a little bit at a time, often putting it down to read something else. The characters were unique but I found I couldn't connect with them and because of that the story was quite dull. There was a lot of talking in circles and if I heard "feck" one more "fecking" time I thought I would scream!
I'm going to keep this short because it was obviously not for me. It is apparent that this style of writing is not my cup of tea but if it sounds like an interesting read I would encourage you to read it as it appears that numerous people really enjoyed it. -
Lots of people love this book. I read a few pages, gave up, and then toughed it out. For me, Brian Doyle's chaotic, stream of conscious writing style overshadowed some memorable characters. One reader summarized by saying "seemingly-mismatched puzzle pieces slowly aligning themselves to form a powerful tapestry ... [but it] never feels as complete. It's a modern art approach to writing where the goal isn't always a specific image but rather a mood." Declan decides to set off on an adventure across the Pacific Ocean in a small boat, and picks up stragglers along the way. There were two unforgettable characters: one who wanted to create a country called Pacifica to create a country integrating all of the hundreds of islands, cultures and resources of the Pacific Ocean, and the Pipster, a young girl who suffered a horrific accident, but seems to understand more of the world around her than her shipmates.
-
Declan is a character I barely remembered from Mink River - his sister, Grace, was a bit more noteworthy. But as soon as he opened his mouth - as soon as that first "fecking feck" left his tongue - I suddenly had a jolt of recognition. Lost at sea - or so the citizens of Neawanaka assume when he sails one day and never returns. But that fate is far too simple for such a strong person as Declan O'Donnell. Turns out he had more in store than simply disappearing into the great unknown.
What gets me every time is Doyle's deft turn of phrase and lyrical prose. There were some parts that flowed so beautifully they begged to be read out loud. In his hands the extraordinary becomes even more sublime by the sheer ordinariness of it. Declan's best friend shows up on a remote island with his crippled daughter because he somehow knew that's where Declan was going to make port? Sure, absolutely. It's no more absurd than a little girl who can speak to birds, seagulls with sarcastic streaks, or a government official who dreams of uniting all of the Pacific Island countries into one nation.
I didn't give this book as many stars as Mink River simply because none of the characters had quite the same pull for me as Cedar did and the seagull never flat-out spoke the way Moses did, which I kept hoping would happen. Nothing is quite as thrilling as a talking bird. Still The Plover is a fantastic companion (or, if you haven't read Mink River, stand-alone) novel. I'll have to get my hands on my very own copy ASAP.
Preorder your copy from Powell's Books. -
The list of features I'd include in "What It Takes to Make a Good Novel" is pretty short:
1) You've got a plot. Good guys, bad guys. A touch of danger. Multiple threads gradually coming together. In short, a story that I want to hear.
2) You've got characters. Diverse and deep. At one level, they feel just like people I've met in real life. At another level, they're fascinating in how unlike they are to anyone I've ever known.
3) Your characters speak like human beings. Oh, the books I've groaned my way through due to awful dialog.
4) You've got humor. I don't care how serious the topic of your story is. I can't think of any book I've ever loved that didn't make me laugh out loud at least a few times.
5) You've thought a little bit about life, the universe and everything, and you take a few opportunities in your novel to expound on that.
6) You know how to write a sentence. Do Items 1- 5 well, and you have something solid. Do them with language that makes the reader keep wanting to turn to the person next to them and say "Listen to this sentence," partly to share the beauty and partly for the joy of feeling that language on the lips and tongue -- do that and you have something magical.
Find me a book that hits all six of those and hits them hard, and I'll give it five stars.
Oh, look... "The Plover." -
The Plover piqued my curiosity instantly. Firstly, because I had no idea what a plover was. (Its a bird, in case you don't know either) Secondly, because the small paper plaque that was posted under the book on the shelf at Powell's told me that it was about a man setting off from the Oregon Coast and heading west because he was tired of people and all their people problems. I love that idea. Sometimes, you pick up a book and you know, right then and there, that you have to read it. I started reading while in line to board my plane. Somewhere between Portland and San Diego, I became absolutely enamored with Dec and the gull who flew 9 feet above the stern of the Plover. This joyous, beautiful novel engaged all of my senses, I could see the green trawler with its tattered red sail, the blue water, the sunfish and its giant eye. I could hear the water lapping, Pipa pipping and the laughter of the crew members who came to The Plover for their own reasons and had their own unique stories. I could taste those desiccated almonds, smell the salty air, feel the sand between my toes. More importantly, This was my first time reading Brian Doyle. It most certainly will not be the last. In fact, Mink River is on its way to me now as I write this. Doyle's writing style is a wonder and a stream of consciousness that flows right into your mind and heart.
-
What a discovery that you find yourself congratulating yourself over and feel compelled to spread the word about. I discovered this book while weeding our collection. Surprisingly it's only less than a year old and no one had read it. It's another hidden gem. It's like Life of Pi meet Kon Tiki meet The Rhyme of the Ancient Mariner. It's got some great writing and lines like: "Maybe the ocean feels every boat like a scar on its skin and only permits them to pass so that its knowledge of men deepens"-page 128 or "Another time the sky was so stuffed with stars and so many of them shooting stars that you would swear the stars were plummeting into the sea faster than the sea could drink them"-page 149. It's an epic journey of man solo across the Pacific but not for long when friends and strangers join him for a meandering detour that's called life. It's real and surreal with the magic realism. There's a dreamer and there's a villain. There's revenge and redemption. There's solitude and community. It's a beautiful book that I didn't want to finish. It's about healing and finding yourself.
-
I first came across Declan O'Donnell in Brian Doyle's Mink River. A good place for the reader to begin if he/she has not yet done so. In our book discussion group regarding Mink River, Declan's name came up more than once - "What do you think happened to him? Did he commit suicide?" My thought was no, definitely not; and in the Plover, I was delighted to find that the author brings Declan front and center as he begins his journey west and then west, away from the small village of Neawanaka on the Oregon coast in a boat he has christened the Plover. Having dreamed of a footloose voyage on the ocean since he was a young boy and having read the likes of Jack London, Robert Louis Stevenson and Joseph Conrad among others, Declan embarks on just such a journey, picking up a most unlikely crew along the way.
I honestly thought that you couldn't get much better than Mink River, but Doyle once more rises to the occasion. Put yourself in the hands of a master storyteller and climb aboard for a tale of adventure unlike any other. -
I won this book from Goodreads, and with a number of other books I have won, am truly grateful. Based on the description of The Plover, I am not sure that I would have gone out to buy this book. But the writing is absolutely lovely and the characters are original and interesting. There is a bit of a surreal element to the story -- it's never clear where it takes place and the characters drift in and out of each other's lives as though the world is a tiny place. It's a book that breaks a few moulds and conventions to great effect. But it all works well given the quality of the writing and the great characters. I would love to find a copy of Bryan Doyle's first book, which features some of the same characters but am not sure it is available.
-
This was a lovely thing. Gently, beautifully evocative and spilling over with the glory of life itself.
-
The Plover by Brian Doyle is a unique kind of book. If you liked Mink River, this book is even better. Reading The Plover is kind of like having someone quietly whisper to your soul. Doyle writes with a stream-of-thought style, which makes you feel that you’re floating along with a vibrant and tangible dream, the best kind of dream, where you know if you try hard enough you can make yourself fly. This is one of those books that perfectly encapsulates why I love to read. It is a friendly voice who invites himself into your brain. You offer him a seat in a comfy armchair and bring him a warm cup of coffee in exchange for his story. And when the story is done, he will have to leave, and tears will fall down your face, but he will say it is the way it has to be, the way it has always been, and he will kiss you on the forehead and remind you, that really, he is not so far away, and goodbye is never forever. After he is gone, you will see his coffee cup resting on the side table, with the faint, tan stain of his lips, and you will know that his gentle voice is still a quiet whisper in your brain, if you really listen.
This book will make you miss not only the characters, who feel so real, and flawed, and beautiful, but you will miss hearing the author’s drifty, tumultuous voice, so much like the sea under a boat.
My only complaints would be his fatuitous love affair with the word infinitesimal and a few other repetitive words that seemed redundant rather than emphatic in nature.
I also wouldn't recommend this book to anyone who doesn't particularly want to think while they read. This book will require all of the beautiful and remote corners of your brain. If you let your mind wander, even for just a moment, you more than likely will have to reread a few sentences, because you will have completely lost your way. -
It's at least as good as the better works by
Ray Bradbury... behind that beautiful play with language are provocative ideas and real heart. It's what
Life of Pi failed to be. It's too engaging to read at the slower pace required to fully appreciate it, and so on to my to-reread list it goes!
Some of the specific things I like are the inclusion of the warbler and the wood rats as inhabitants of the boat, and the use of the word "fecking" instead of the more vulgar default choice, and the quotes from Edmund Burke, and misneach, and the bits of musical notation (though I don't know how to read music and don't know what they signify) and the bad guy is a real person rather than just an entity . And there's more.
I do recommend it and will look for more by the author. -
If you haven't read Brian Doyle's novels, I urge you to start pronto, preferably with Mink River, the book to which The Plover is a related, chronologically subsequent narrative. Unlike MR, which offers many perspectives and multiple plotlines, The Plover focuses on Declan O'Donnell's sea voyage in the Pacific and the people he encounters on his journey. Gorgeous writing, unique characters, and a drop of the magic-real should enthrall and entertain most every soul.
-
*blinks*
*blinks harder*
sinks into a pile of conflicting emotions
some background: This summer, under an English professor at WashU, i read "The Greatest Nature Essay ever", a short essay that completely knocked me out of the water.
https://orionmagazine.org/contributor...
I then googled Brian Doyle and found that he had written a couple novels, of course which I had to get my hands on.
I think Doyle is better suited as a short story, poetry, essay writer. Although, who am I to say that I don't have any real credentials for making such a judgement.
When I first started this book, a week? half a week ago? I really couldn't get into it. The first few chapters were tedious, heavy, and chock filled with words and words and words. What happened last night was that my parents had the brilliant notion to confiscate all of our electronic playthings. So i found myself in bed at 10 with no intention of going to sleep. And i kinda had to force myself through the next few chapters
More background: Ever since i've competed in science olympiad, I've been in an event called Dynamic Planet which means I've had years and years of studying oceanography and water quality and such. Since this book was a "maritime mystery" according to the opening flap, I really loved, and got excited about the loads and loads of oceanography references. Panthalassa to atolls to all the different measurements of oxygen and waves. Loved it, its just one of those personal connections i made with this book.
Anyways, there are sentences and pages that are just Doyle's thoughts and musings that come off so brilliant in a flash but yet so slow and directionless too. Like each page/paragraphical section could be turned into a short story and it would be genius but strung together it didn't seem like it had the plot direction for a proper novel.
"So very many silences, and kinds of silences: chapels and churches and confessionals, glades and gorges, pregnant pauses and searing lovemaking; the stifling stifled brooding silence just before a thunderstorm unleashes itself wild on the world; the silence of space, the vast of vista; the crucial silences between notes, without which there could be no music,; no yes without no. Perhaps silence was the ocean and sounds be boats upon the deep, he thought. Perhaps silence was the mother and sounds her yearning children. Do we not yearn for silence at the deepest level, and merely distract ourselves with stammer and yammer? Isn't that why I am out in the middle of nowhere? The ceiling of the silent sea. The silent She."
Maybe Dorian Gray ruined my appreciation for empty prose, but I needed something to happen so I skimmed. I can't decide if Doyle isn't saying anything with his prose or if he's saying too much, if its there because it can be, or if there's just too many ideas he doesn't have room to explore. And there really are, so many fascinating ideas I wanted him to go into. And trust me, when I skim, I never miss stuff. But I kept on missing major plot occurrences hidden behind a sentence or two and had to keep on going back. It was quite a frustrating thing.
Where do his words come from? I feel like I know the words he uses but I don't at the same time:
sentenced to solipsism, incomprehensible designs and predilections, nature's profligacy, antic joy, the green dense wet redolence of the island, explanations and fulminations
Now characters. Declan, besides the name being brilliant, fell kinda meh for me. Pipa on the other hand vaulted up my list of favorite female characters above every YA heroine ever and landed somewhere between Clarissa McClellan and Anne Shirley. I wanted to just sit and listen to her endless string of questions and her big movable spirit and every how-did-you-create-her-o-brian-doyle aspect. My favorite exchanges though were between Declan and Piko, Pipa's father. Their relationship was so unnatural and odd and delightful. And then how all the other stories eventually tied, slightly messily but thoroughly satisfyingly into one. What does Taromauri look like? Danilo's probably hot. Although please, couldn't enrique have been fleshed out more? And AKIA. how dare you introduce her in the last two pages and then just end??
Its an endless internal monologue. Like this, listen to this
We take stars totally for granted, as Declan later said to Piko. Jesus blessed miracles, they are, and we casually look up and say stupid things like hey stars, when we should by rights be moaning and gibbering in wonder and fear that fecking nuclear furnaces are burning in the sky in numbers and distances we cannot even imagine let alone bless me calculate.
I need coffee, says Declan,. You want some coffee? I need coffee. You don't need any coffee. You are coffee. You want to help me make coffee? Yes?
that's exactly what i want to say about people if you substitute "God" for "stars" but anyway its like this continuous internal monologue of so many ideas, and where where do they come from doyle? The ocean is an assassin, the ocean thinks and licks the islands, the air is an ocean, the man has read the book so many times that the words are gone and he has to read the words back into the pages, where where, and burning everything according to Enrique, and talking gulls, and that one time Declan's broken arm started talking to him, where are these ideas coming from
you know what would match this book? becoming ocean by john luther adams, the symphonic piece
i was about to knock a star off for a slow plot, but further into the book, i loved the ambling meandering ambivalent attitude of the writing that I really don't care if nothing happens.
If Dorian Gray ruined my appreciation for prose, The Plover restored it.
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I’ll start by saying I had ZERO interest in reading this book. I was annoyed that my friend chose it, for book club and even more turned off when I saw blurbs that cited Conrad, Stevenson and Jack London. This was not my book. I read the first 40 or 50 pages in a disgruntled mood, grudgingly allowing that maybe it would be like Old Man and the Sea, which was tolerable And sort of a B+ white man parable. But things started to shift with the introduction of some other characters, and suddenly a complex and beautiful emotional world revealed itself that I would never have predicted. Ultimately I loved this book and felt like it gave me some kind of bigger key to the universe.
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This book picks up where Mink River leaves off. I was especially glad that the audio versions of both books are read by the same person as he does an excellent job of bringing out the subtle humor, wit and poetry of the stories. As much as I loved Mink River, I loved this one every bit as much and perhaps then some. This is writing and storytelling at its best and I cannot recommend it enough. I’m eager to read other books by this author and to reread this one as well as it contains too many fascinating characters and themes to absorb in merely one read through. As with Mink River, one of the most creative and humorous aspects is the conversations between the various characters and several birds who join with them in their adventuring. While that may sound more peculiar than interesting, it works so well and adds such nuance and texture to the tale that the I came to love the feathered ones as much as the non-feathered!
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This is one of those books which is essentially a love affair with the sound of words. The characters are compelling and various, but even they seem to understand that the plot is going to be the random sort and cheerfully accept the voyage and vulnerability, lists and longing, sailing and stories, healing and humanity.
This book made me smile, a lot. Sometimes it made me sad. Sometimes I laughed. It did a good job mixing up joy and work and cussing and awe and death and healing. Life.
