This is a beautifully crafted memoir of growing up in St Monan's in the post-war years, a small, insular fishing village on the East Neuk of Fife. St Monan's is not far from where I grew up when I was younger, so I had a sort of personal interest in this book. Much of the East Neuk these days is a tourist trap - gentrified with 2nd homes and arts festivals (esp Pittenweem and Crail). Fishing has almost completely disappeared from the East Neuk, with only a few boats left along the harbours.
One review of this book mentioned the almost `gothic' feel of it. And for the first few chapters, you certainly do get that. The fisher-folk were people that lived hard lives, entirely at the mercy of nature and of their stern and (mostly) Calvinist God. The first few chapters create this glorious picture of this exotic, insular little world. It throws you straight into the harsh winter of the East coast, a christening foiled by the water itself freezing over in the font, but rescued by someone taking the spray of the sea against the cliffs to be used for the baptism instead. The images the author creates in the first few chapters stay with you long after you read them.
If there is one criticism of this book, it's that the author finds it a little hard to sustain this brilliant, gripping opening. It becomes less gothic and more familiar, though never anything less than engaging.
