The Genius Of The Sea [Paperback]

Naeem Murr, a story-teller extraordinaire, speaks to the reader so directly it's as if he's sitting at your elbow, whispering into your ear. The feeling that the author is carefully constructing his tale, which is so often a part of literary novels, is absent here--the construction being more subtle and hidden in the background, as if the author and reader together are "discovering" the story--the mysterious events from childhood about which Daniel Mulvaugh still feels guilt as an adult and which ultimately threaten his sanity.

Growing up in a "council estate" as a child, Daniel and his best friend escaped into vivid, imaginary worlds in an effort to cope with their bleak and frightening lives. Neurotic and timid, Daniel suffered from panic attacks and acrophobia, sometimes fainting with fear, constantly worrying about his mother and the friend on whom he depended. As Daniel's story moves back forth between childhood and his life as a thirty-eight-year-old social worker, we see that he still suffers from acrophobia and panic attacks and that he is unable to "feel" and respond appropriately to the needs of his adored wife Sally, who suffered a breakdown three years before. Now recovered, she has chosen to remain in the caretaker's cottage on the grounds of the hospital, rather than return to Daniel.

Then, into his life comes Amos Radcliffe, an elderly client living in the apartment that Daniel and his mother once shared. Amos tells him stories of his life as a sailor, the people he's met, the sins he's committed, and the guilt he's felt, and the parallels between his own life and that of Daniel are unmistakable. As the nature of his crime is revealed to Daniel, the reader observes their parallel searches for love and communication and their mutual need to confront the past and themselves. While some readers may question whether Amos is "real" or a figment of Daniel's imagination, Daniel himself believes he is real and acts on that assumption. The parallels between their lives are unmistakable, the coincidences are extraordinary, and the similarities in their relationships with others are clear.

Murr stirs the reader's immense sympathy for his characters, showing their humanity as they deal with the past. His observations are acute, and his descriptions, sometimes appearing almost as "throw-aways," are unique. A group of men has "simple lizard brains; they had to blink to swallow their food," and a woman is "an impeccably maintained cul-de-sac of feeling." The dialogue, through which Murr reveals much of the story, is lively and natural, sometimes filled with black humor. The ironies of plot and character are striking, and Murr's comments about the nature of imagination and the nuances of language are insightful. This is a beautifully wrought, carefully constructed, and totally absorbing novel about selfhood, our need to deal with our pasts and our guilt, and the role of imagination in making life bearable. Mary Whipple

I loved this book. It is strange and compelling, enertaining and beguiling. I first discovered Murr when I read his first novel, "The Boy," which is an utter knockout. This is a substantial, important writer at the outset of what will be an important career.

Naeem Murr, a story-teller extraordinaire, speaks to the reader so directly it's as if he's sitting at your elbow, whispering into your ear. The feeling that the author is carefully constructing his tale, which is so often a part of literary novels, is absent here--the construction being more subtle and hidden in the background, as if the author and reader together are "discovering" the story--the mysterious events from childhood about which Daniel Mulvaugh still feels guilt as an adult and which ultimately threaten his sanity.

Growing up in a "council estate" as a child, Daniel and his best friend escaped into vivid, imaginary worlds in an effort to cope with their bleak and frightening lives. Neurotic and timid, Daniel suffered from panic attacks and acrophobia, sometimes fainting with fear, constantly worrying about his mother and the friend on whom he depended. As Daniel's story moves back forth between childhood and his life as a thirty-eight-year-old social worker, we see that he still suffers from acrophobia and panic attacks and that he is unable to "feel" and respond appropriately to the needs of his adored wife Sally, who suffered a breakdown three years before. Now recovered, she has chosen to remain in the caretaker's cottage on the grounds of the hospital, rather than return to Daniel.

Then, into his life comes Amos Radcliffe, an elderly client living in the apartment that Daniel and his mother once shared. Amos tells him stories of his life as a sailor, the people he's met, the sins he's committed, and the guilt he's felt, and the parallels between his own life and that of Daniel are unmistakable. As the nature of his crime is revealed to Daniel, the reader observes their parallel searches for love and communication and their mutual need to confront the past and themselves. While some readers may question whether Amos is "real" or a figment of Daniel's imagination, Daniel himself believes he is real and acts on that assumption. The parallels between their lives are unmistakable, the coincidences are extraordinary, and the similarities in their relationships with others are clear.

Murr stirs the reader's immense sympathy for his characters, showing their humanity as they deal with the past. His observations are acute, and his descriptions, sometimes appearing almost as "throw-aways," are unique. A group of men has "simple lizard brains; they had to blink to swallow their food," and a woman is "an impeccably maintained cul-de-sac of feeling." The dialogue, through which Murr reveals much of the story, is lively and natural, sometimes filled with black humor. The ironies of plot and character are striking, and Murr's comments about the nature of imagination and the nuances of language are insightful. This is a beautifully wrought, carefully constructed, and totally absorbing novel about selfhood, our need to deal with our pasts and our guilt, and the role of imagination in making life bearable. Mary Whipple

The Perfect Man: A Novel
Boy, The
Biography - Murr, Naeem: An article from: Contemporary Authors Online