The Many

Ethan's is the first boat back and the others will limp in throughout the morning, all holds empty, he's sure of that. There's been no talk from the small fleet above the radio static. No talk until a catch is made. It's a rule. Sure as not setting sail on a Friday is a rule, sure as talking low when you spot a petrel close in is a rule, sure as not moving into Perran's is a rule.

The Many, longlisted for the 2016 Man Booker Prize, is from such a small press that I had to order it direct from Britain as it still isn't available to purchase locally; if it ever will be. What a nice surprise, therefore, the nomination must have been for Salt and author Wyl Menmuir; and as brief as this book is, I surprised myself by liking it so well. Tense and claustrophobic, I was aware of the frown lines between my eyebrows the entire time I was reading, and as ever, I appreciate any book that can make me feel anything – even discomfort. 

The Many is a book that deserves to be read without prior information about the plot, so I aim to be spoiler-free. Set in a tiny fishing village on the Cornish coast, Timothy from away – an incomer or emmet in local lingo – buys an abandoned, derelict home to fix up; much to the dismay of the locals who still mourn its former owner, the mysterious Perran. Told in shifting first person narratives from the perspectives of Timothy and Ethan – a gruff fisherman who both befriends Timothy and refuses to answer any of his questions about the village or this Perran fellow – the more information that's doled out, the less the reader understands. Why is there a ring of abandoned container ships outside the cove marking the government-enforced fishing limits? Why is the meager local catch half-dead and deformed? Who are the men in black (and the woman in grey) who appear out of nowhere to buy all the fish that's caught? Who is Perran?

This book is all atmosphere, engagingly so, and the reader's confoundment is like a character in the plot. It almost feels like a poem expanded into novella-length prose.

No fish, no fish, no crabs, no shrimp nor shark, just jellies. Jellies tangled in the nets, that burn and sting and leave criss-cross patterns on arms and hands, long white welts from fronds that stick and burn and scar.

I don't know if the ending, and what little it explains, was the perfect payoff, but I so enjoyed the journey that I'm rounding up to four stars.

The 2016 Man Booker Prize Longlist

• Paul Beatty - The Sellout
• J.M. Coetzee - The Schooldays of Jesus
• A.L. Kennedy - Serious Sweet
• Deborah Levy - Hot Milk
• Graeme Macrae Burnet - His Bloody Project
• Ian McGuire - The North Water
• David Means - Hystopia
• Wyl Menmuir - The Many
• Ottessa Moshfegh - Eileen
• Virginia Reeves - Work Like Any Other
• Elizabeth Strout - My Name Is Lucy Barton
• David Szalay - All That Man Is
• Madeleine Thien - Do Not Say We Have Nothing

Upon the release of the shortlist (and as my two favourite titles didn't make the cut), this is my ranking for the finalists (signifying my enjoyment of the books, not necessarily which one I think will/should win):

Deborah Levy : Hot Milk 
Ottessa Moshfegh : Eileen 
Paul Beatty : The Sellout 
Madeleine Thien : Do Not Say We Have Nothing 
Graeme Macrae Burnet : His Bloody Project 
David Szalay : All That Man Is 

Later edit: The Man Booker was won by The Sellout, and although it was not my pick, I'm not dissatisfied by the result.