(Catapult, 2018)

REVIEW BY GABINO IGLESIAS

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Cynan Jones is one of those authors who constantly reinvent themselves. His body of work proves he is fearless when it comes to exploring new territory and always willing to explore the way language can be used to maximize the impact of a narrative. In Cove, which was published in a beautiful hardcover edition by Catapult, Jones offers what is perhaps his most minimalist narrative while trying out new rhythms and showing what extreme economy of language can accomplish.

A man is out at sea. He is in a kayak and gets caught in a sudden storm. Then he is struck by lightning. When he wakes up, adrift on his kayak and with a shattered hand, he finds his memory gone. He can’t remember who he is, where he came from or how and why he ended up floating in a kayak in the middle of the ocean. Despite his lack of memory, he knows he has to move, to push forward toward the shore, to survive. In the absence of recollections, his instincts take over and survival becomes his main goal. In his struggle, the ghost of a sensation, not quite a memory, comes to him: a woman and a child are waiting for him, and he has to make it back to them. What follows is a short, visceral read about a wounded, memoryless man fighting for something he barely remembers.

Cove is a self-contained master class on economy of language. It is also a outstanding example of what happens when writers allow brevity and poetry to mix outside of poetry:

Still, his memory is out of reach, things approaching, dipping, disappearing. A butterfly, nearly knowledge. He thinks of the state of his skin, does not know if he had started out clean shaven, knows, though, that his stubble grows at uneven rates.

Jones is a superb writer, and he flexes new muscles in this book. Besides his usual storytelling, there are things happening with the writing here that go beyond good writing. The most memorable of them is the rhythm of the prose. Insistent is not a word usually used to describe writing, but it applies here. The words keep coming, hitting the reader the same way the water laps against the kayak. Sentence construction follows an arrhythmic sort of melody that constantly changes, shifts in lengths, and then returns to previous cadences:

He looks at the stars, sees those on the horizon. That some of them might be the lights of ships, of land, he can’t allow himself to think. Cannot allow himself to image the warmth, the food, the safety they would mean. It is better they are stars. That they are out there somewhere in the same infinity as him. That they are not real beacons.

The plot of Cove is deceptively simple: a man trying to make it back to something he barely remembers after having a horrible accident. That said, there is an honesty to the writing, to the simple actions of the man, that makes this a captivating read. Furthermore, once the man is invaded by the idea of a memory that may or may not be real, his demeanor changes, his priorities morph and give him renewed strength, and readers go from being witnesses to actively rooting for him:

With the knowledge of her had come the need to ease her worry. It was impossible for him to believe he would die, but it was possible for him to believe he could leave her alone. Her and the child.

This is more a novella than a novel, but regardless of what you call it, this book cements Jones as a master of the short book and a leading voice in terms of maximum impact packed into extreme economy of language. If you’re a fan of great writing, don’t skip this one.

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Gabino Iglesias is a writer, book critic, and professor living in Austin, TX. He is the author of ZERO SAINTS and COYOTE SONGS. His work has been translated into four languages, optioned for film, and nominated to the Wonderland Book Award, the Bram Stoker Award, and the Locus Award. His literary criticism appears regularly in venues like NPR, Vol. 1 Brooklyn, Criminal Element, and the Los Angeles Review of Books. His nonfiction has been published in The New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, and other print and online venues. He was a juror for the 2018 Shirley Jackson Awards and the 2019 Splatterpunk Awards. He is the book reviews editor for PANK Magazine and a literary columnist for LitReactor and CLASH Media. You can find him on Twitter at @Gabino_Iglesias.