Open Water is a story about 2 young Black people - he’s a photographer and she’s a dancer- trying to make a mark in a place where they actually are not wanted and seen as only Black body. The trauma of losing family members, family relationships, finding love in its purest form and systemic racism play a big part in this book. The exhaustion and injustices felt by the main protagonist makes him look for love thinking that it can shield him. Finding love and only to lose it because in anticipation of something to happen to him, he protects the one he loves by withdrawing and distancing himself.

Nelson’s debut novel is beautifully written with just 145 pages but pack with so much love and meaning. It is also refreshing to see a male perspective as being vulnerable and open to his emotions the are so pure and raw. You can feel the love in the deepest sense of the word while reading this book. I like the author’s style of writing that has lyrical prose to it, how the author was able to connect the readers to the unnamed characters, something that might be seen as impersonal. I just had a hard time with the use of second person narrative and had difficulty reconciling who was being referred to in the story. But overall, it’s a beautiful love story and something I will remember for some time.

Thank you NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the advanced e-ARC in exchange for an honest opinion. UK Pub day - Feb 4

I knew going in that Caleb Azumah Nelson's debut novel was going to provide a visceral experience, but no amount of preparation can describe the beauty and power of its relatively slim page length. As the author shares so many points of reference of his central character, it may be that this potent romance is metafiction, but that's difficult to say for sure. The relationship between him and his family, his lover, and most strongly, himself, is spooled out in second person, providing an even deeper intimacy.

Open Water was one of the most poetic books I’ve ever read. Written in second person, it told a story of two black artists who fall in love. But this story was so much more than a love story. Nelson packed SO MUCH into such short pages.

Open Water gave the reader everything it needed to paint a picture of love, and what happens when trauma threatens to ruin that love. I really enjoyed this aspect of the book. Sometimes ever the most potent of loves can be destroyed by trauma and I think that was really important to highlight. “Let’s ask: which came first, the violence or the pain”, this is a question so many black people have to ask. History does repeat itself and what’s left behind in that aftermath is the trauma. But not just any trauma; black trauma. A trauma so many black people are afraid to share. I think Caleb does an amazing job giving readers a first hand look into the process of a young black man trying to break down this inherited trauma and learn how to truly overcome it. How to become comfortable with it along with himself and the color of his skin and his masculinity. Open Water asks so many important questions but my favorite was: is to be fully seen by someone real joy?

Yes. The answer is yes.

Open Water is, without a doubt, one of the most beautifully written books I have ever read. I connected with so many of the passages and prose - I wish I had a physical copy to annotate and bookmark.

The second person narrative did take some getting used to, as well as the jumping around in time without much warning, but it ultimately added to the beauty and nostalgic feeling of the book. I love books about people and emotions and putting words to feelings - Open Water was the perfect example of that. I felt like I was falling in love and having my heartbroken at the same time. The story is about love, but also about being a black person, the racism experienced at different ages and every day. It's about finding a place you belong and being vulnerable.

While it is a short book, it was not a quick read for me. I threw myself into it, not wanting to miss anything the author wrote. Just so beautiful. Thank you a million times to Netgalley and the Publisher. I will shout about this book from the rooftops.

Caleb Azumah Nelson's literary debut, OPEN WATER, is a lyrical, nuanced portrait of two budding artists falling in love in London, and the complex way trauma -- and specifically, the trauma of living in a Black body -- influences identity, vulnerability, and our ability to be our most human selves. Nelson's prose is infused with poetry and, more to the point, music; the way we arrive at the same powerful phrases or ideas again and again has the same cumulative power of a well-composed chorus. The bridge to this song -- the piece that joins the last two choruses -- is subtle, heartbreaking, and raw enough to stop you in your tracks. At around 150 pages, the powerful efficiency of OPEN WATER surely deserves a place next to BETWEEN THE WORLD AND ME or OUR SOULS AT NIGHT -- compact, deliberate storytelling at its best.

OPEN WATER's unnamed narrator is trying to tell the story of his lived experience, both as a young man falling in love and a young man falling, full stop. "You have always thought if you opened your mouth in open water you would drown, but if you didn't open your mouth you would suffocate. So here you are, drowning," he writes, and "...you hid your whole self away because you haven't worked out how to emerge from your own anger, how to dip into your own peace. You hide your whole self away because sometimes you forget you haven't done anything wrong. Sometimes you forget there's nothing in your pockets." The Photographer is trying, with every passing page, to make sense of what it means to live in a world that sees your Blackness before your personhood, to figure out once and for all "What is a joint? What is a fracture? What is a break?".

I suspect it is impossible to absorb all that OPEN WATER has to teach us in a single reading, but it will be no burden to reenter the narrative, to experience the fullness of the Photographer and the Dancer one more time, or several. The novel is, without question, an astonishing and triumphant debut.

Thank you to Grove Atlantic and NetGalley for providing an advanced copy in exchange for an honest review.

A beautifully written book to open anyone’s heart.

I am looking forward to more books by Caleb Azumah Nelson.

Thanks to NetGalley and the publisher for an eARC in exchange for a honest review!

Open Water follows to Black persons who fall in love in modern society. It is both heartbreaking, though provoking, lovely and aching.

I was blown away about the poetic and fantastic writing style that swept through this novella. It was magical to read. The relationship, the ache and the heartbreak and building of this relationship that are the main focus on this story - I felt every word. Caleb Azumah Nelson is an excellent writer, and I can't wait for more books/novellas by him.

The second person perspective took a little time for me to get used to, but it was done in such a great and fulfilling way. You feel everything whilst reading the book, and I think the choose for second perspective made the story even more empowering.

This was a book that took me much longer to read than it should have, because you want to savor every word. Pure poetry. Rumination on music, and sports, and art, and movement. I ached at the exploration of how trauma consumes, and how nuanced new love can feel and what it’s like for it to end. Talking about family and relationships to parents had me in tears. Caleb is a very gifted writer and I plan to read more from him. This book is meant to be exactly what it is, but would also love to see it as cinema.

Thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for providing an eARC in exchange for an honest review.

4.5 stars rounded up.

Written beautifully in second person present tense, this is a story of contemporary love but it's also so much more. The talent you have to have to write such an evocative and powerful novel in under 150 pages is beyond me. Not only is Open Water about the journey of two friends who eventually becoming lovers, it is also a journey through the black London experience, touching on themes of masculinity, microaggressions and police brutality. The last few chapters were heartbreaking and really highlighted how exhausting and devastating the trauma from racism can be.

I found the writing style very poetic and it took me a while to get used to the writing in second person but it was definitely worth it. The prose was elegantly crafted and flowed really well. I also loved the references to hip hop throughout.

A must read!

“You have always thought if you opened your mouth in open water you would drown, but if you didn’t open your mouth you would suffocate. So here you are, drowning.”

This story follows two black artists as they navigate new love, community violence, mental health, and long-distance. This book is beautifully written! Highly recommend.

"To be you is to apologize and often that apology comes in the form of suppression. That suppression is indiscriminate. That suppression knows not when it will spill. What you're trying to say is that it's easier for you to hide in your own darkness, than energy cloaked in your own vulnerability. Not better, but easier. However, the longer you hold it in, the more likely you are to suffocate. At some point, you must breathe."

Caleb Azumah Nelson's debut, a slim volume just under 150 pages, blew me away. I'm inherently skeptical of second-person narration; I find it particularly tricky to do effectively and with real purpose, so when I started reading it was with a slight apprehension, but Azumah Nelson won my trust effortlessly. His writing is absorbing and gorgeous, the bond between character and reader sealed by the author's choice to frame reader as protagonist, a choice that has the potential to fall flat but which instead is elevated by Azumah Nelson's sharp commentary on sight and observation.

This probably sounds like an off the wall comparison but Open Water is a bit like James Baldwin meets Sally Rooney. It has that tender, push-and-pull, will-they-won't-they quality of Normal People but it's also heavier; the stakes are higher; it's not a book generically about young love but instead specifically about young Black love, and the cost of systemic racism on Black love and Black bodies. It's a gentle, supple story, joyous and heart-rending and intimate.

26-year-old Caleb Azumah Nelson is an author to watch. Calling it now, whatever he writes next will be shortlisted for the Booker.

Thank you to Netgalley and to Viking for the advanced copy provided in exchange for an honest review.

This is one of the most beautiful books of 2021.
...less than 150 pages....
...written in stunning poetic second person....
...Caleb Azumah Nelson’s simplicity and profundity is sagacious > gorgeously brilliant.
...soooo much intimacy I ached,
...I understood,
...I related,
...but I’m white?
...I still related.
...I didn’t cry.
...I didn’t cry.
...I didn’t cry.
Until....
I finished the last pages at 2am...
...closed my kindle....
set it on my nightstand...
and wept soundless tears... next to my sleeping husband.
...I wept...feeling the sadness, hurt, injustice, fear, anger, guilt, and love mixed together in our world.
...I even prayed.

...I’m glad.. you know? Really glad I finished this slim-gem tonight...the day before January 20th inauguration...
Tomorrow we will have a new President and Vice President...
Hallelujah!

Open Water:
“an expanse of an ocean, sea, or large lake which is distant from shore and devoid
of nearby islands or other obstructions”......
Or....
Open Water:
“honor and respect are necessary in our interconnected world”.

“Language fails us, and sometimes our parents do, too. We all fail each other, sometimes small, sometimes big, but look, when we love we trust, and when we fail, we fracture that joint”.

“You have been going and going and going and now you have decided to slow down, to a halt, and confess. You are scared. You have been fearful of this spillage. You have been worried of being torn. You have been worried that you could not repair, would not emerge intact. You have lost your God so you cannot even pray, and anyway, prayer is just confessing one’s desire and it’s not that you don’t know what you want, it’s that you don’t know what to do about it”.

“We are all hurting, you said. We are all trying to live, to breathe, and find ourselves stopped by that which is out of our control. We find ourselves unseen. We find ourselves unheard. We find ourselves mislabeled. We who are loud and angry, who are bold and brash. We who are Black. We find ourselves not saying it how it is. We find ourselves scared. We find ourselves suppressed, you said. But do not worry about what has come before, or what will come; move. Do not resist the call of a drum. Do not resist the thud of a kick, the tap of a snare, the rattle of a hi-hat. Do not hold your body stiff but flow like easy water. Be here, please, you said”.

“How do you cope? you asked”.
“I smoke. I drink. I eat. I try to treat myself well. And I dance”.

“You realize there is a reason clichés exist, and you would happily have your breath taken away, three seconds at a time, maybe more, by this woman”.

“Are you and her together yet then?”
“Who?”
“Don’t treat me like an idiot, Samuel said”.
“We’re not together”.
“But you want to be?”
“I said, don’t treat me like an idiot. I saw the way you looked at her when you first met”.

“She spends the week apartment hunting in Dublin. She’s left it late; only a few weeks of the summer remain. You don’t talk about what happened, not really. But what more is there to be said that your bodies did not?”

“She’ll go from London to Holyhead and take the ferry to Dublin. On the platform, she kisses you, one foot on the train, one foot off. The whistle blows once. You need to step away from the train but you’re not ready. You have never loved from a distance, but then you have never known love like this. You want to tell yourself, and her, that it will be OK, that nothing will change, but you don’t know. All too quickly, the whistle is blowing again, and the train doors are sliding shut. You hold off the tears until the train has pulled away, until you are stumbling down the platform. It is like this summer has been one long night and you have just woken up. It is like you both dived into open water, but you have resurfaced with her elsewhere”.

“Nothing is more durable than a feeling. Tell her you’re scared of being taken from her. Tell her what you struggle to tell yourself on some days.
Tell her you love her and know what comes with these words”.

“You want to tell her there are some things you won’t heal from, and there is no shame in your hurt. You want to tell her that in trying to be honest here, you dug until shovel met bone, and you kept going. You want to tell her you hurt. You want to tell her that you have stopped trying to forget that feeling, that anger, that ugly, and instead have accepted it as part of you, along with your joy, your beauty, your light. Multiple truths do exist, and you do not have to be that some of your traumas”.

“You came here, to the page, to ask for forgiveness.
you came here to tell her you were sorry that you wouldn’t let her hold you in this open water. You came here to tell her how selfish it was to let yourself drown”.

Saidiya Hartman....
is an American writer and academic focusing on African American studies ....
She.....
“describes the journey of
Black people from chattel to men and women, and how this new status was a type of freedom if only by name; that the re-subordination was only natural considering the power structures in which this freedom was and continues to operate within. Rendering the Black body as a species body, encouraging a Blackness which defined as abject, threatening, servile, dangerous, dependent, irrational and infectious, finding yourself being constrained in a way you did not asked for, in a way which could not possibly contain all that you are, all that you could be, could want to be.
That is what you are being framed, a container, a vessel,
a body, you have been made a body, all those years ago, before your lifetime, before anyone else who is currently in your lifetime, and now you are here, a body, you have been made a body, and sometimes this is hard, because you know you are so much more”.

I reflect again:
Open Water:
“an expanse of an ocean, sea, or large lake which is distant from shore and devoid
of nearby islands or other obstructions”......
Or....
Open Water:
“honor and respect are necessary in our interconnected world”.

Thank you Netgalley, Grove Atlantic, and the talented Caleb Azumah Nelson

5 very strong stars from me.

Patriarchy has taught men to shut down emotionally, cover their grief with anger and isolation, and suffer in silence with their mental health.

“You cool, you real cool, playing it cool. Keeping it real, cool until - Sigh into the darkness. Daily strain makes chest tight. You have been torn and furled, like they ripped the pages out of your book and crumpled them like waste paper. This is how you die. This is how young boys die.”

Caleb Azumah Nelson explores Black male vulnerability and masculinity with his nameless protagonist who is processing the trauma of his grandmother’s passing, the betrayal of his absent father, the brutality of systemic racism. Written with gorgeous poetic prose and a powerful use of the second-person narration, Nelson invites us deep into the thoughts and emotions of a young Black man of Ghanian descent living in Britain. Having felt unseen, the protagonist makes other Black people feel seen by photography. He meets an ambitious young Black woman who dances to create a space where she can breathe, feel, and heal. The intimacy they share is one where can enjoy doing nothing together and can be completely comfortable around one another - “an honest meeting.”

However, as the young protagonist suffers with racial trauma, he begins to distance himself from his partner. He anticipates his untimely death at the hands of the police and know the grief this will cause her. He is trying to protect her and also struggling to navigate the open water of love and vulnerability.

I’ve seen where some have said they fell out of love. I don’t think they did. Their faith was weakened. They at times felt like they were drowning. But they wanted to hold on to each other even if he struggled to be held.

“You have always thought if you opened your mouth in open water you would drown, but if you didn’t open your mouth you would suffocate. So here you are, drowning . . . you are sorry that you wouldn’t let her hold you in this open water.”

As soon as I finished this, I went to Nelson's instagram to look at his photos, the pictures he's taken of strangers & loved ones -- it's hard not to want to, when this novel has such a specific, photographic sensibility, suspending impressions & details & movements in time & space, playing with light & shadow & shifting shapes. Even harder not to want to because it ends so beautifully & so poignantly, with an image of what photography can do in moving beyond looking at someone to seeing them, in translating people to each other & to themselves.

The photos I found were beautiful, as moving and tender and attentive and serious and joyful as Open Water -- there's a vulnerability to both, an honouring of the fragile thing that connects the subject to the artist to the audience, image to reality, memory to life.

(I also felt reminded of Zadie Smith's essay on Joy throughout, the difference between pleasure, a comfortable good thing, and joy, which is bigger & more dizzying & shadowed by terror. This novel, thinking as it does about moments of connection and community between black people, of dancing & sweaty nights out & shared passion, of freedom and falling in love, but also about racist violence, the ways that white supremacy manifest self-surveillance & self-suppression as self-protection, the brutality of everyday, conversational dehumanisation -- it's Zadie Smith's joy that I mean when i call it joyful, the terrifying vulnerability of loving & living despite.)

3.5/5 - I love reading debut novels and this is no exception. Caleb Azumah Nelson is a beautiful writer and the prose in Open Water are stunning. The second person perspective is just not for me. I really wanted to get into it far more than I did but I just couldn't get passed it.

If second person perspective is something that you enjoy in a novel, I would highly recommend this. The story is beautiful, I liked the characters and would encourage others to pick it up.

*Thank you NetGalley and Grove Atlantic for the e-ARC of Open Water for my honest option.

Shout outs to @NetGalley for the arc Open Water by Caleb Azumah Nelson is an ode to Black men, Black love and Black existence. It’s tentative, sensitive and gorgeously written novel, Nelson did not come to play! This story follows 26-year-old writer photographer in London who meets and falls in love with a dancer. they meet and immediately become everything to each other first as “friends” and then lovers- you already know tho. Even as their relationship turns evermore romantic the protagonist is plagued with an aged old violent memory that haunts his reality as is I'm sure the reality of Black men in the world. I loved how sensitive, loving and tentative the protag was, he said (more or less) no to toxic masculinity which we love to see. Shout out to soft Black men. However some things are harder to burden with your love ones even as you can feel it creating a seemingly impregnable wall around you. The conflict, the internal struggle and the use of second point of view worked really well together imo, the distance and silence was defs amplified and while it was as a whole it was a thing to get used to and did become a bit tiresome (towards the end) I enjoyed it.I adored the constant mentions with such heart to Black art. The Kendrick Lamar, Alec Bladwin and Zadie Smith to name a few were appreciated! I ordered Zadie Smith’s NW bc of dudes obsession with it, there’s a funny but relatable moment where he meets Zadie Smith at a signing and he’s like what do I say to articulate how profoundly this book has impacted me,that has found such a cherished home in me and I FELT that. Some lines I loved!  “Every time you remember something, the memory weakens, as you’re remembering the last recollection, rather than the memory itself. Nothing can remain intact. Still, it does not stop you wanting, it does not stop you longing.” And “You run and wave and laugh until the train gathers speed and the platform runs out. She escapes the frame, until it is just you on the platform, a little breathless, a little ecstatic, a little sad.’

This book is a love story. As in any love story there are moments of disagreement, fascination, total surrender and absolute reserve.

But Open water is so much more than that because it also raises very deep issues such as what it really means to be black and the vulnerability of knowing that, in certain societies, it implies a vital risk. So many questions are raised in the book:
Are we the sum of our traumas? Does the way blackness is defined today contain the entirety of being black or it just refers to a body, a vessel? Is freedom nothing but the distance between hunter and prey?

The book is narrated from the second person and despite being the protagonist the one questioned by the narrator, it is also at some point the reader who is questioned. And all those questions are so welcomed and necessary.
It is so well written, so sentimental in the best way possible.
I want to read everything
Caleb Azumah Nelson writes from now on. This work is a beauty.

Open Water is only 145 pages and written in second person. I know many readers don’t like reading second person narration, and I understand that because it can feel a bit distant. I love it though, and think it’s personal and intimate, like receiving a letter from your beloved; especially when written in lyrical prose like this one.

This book is a tender story with some references to James Baldwin, about two artists becoming friends and then falling in love, a dancer and a photographer. They both went to private schools, both being one of the only Black kids there. So, of course he became a basketball player ..., and she became a dancer because while dancing, she didn’t feel left out. So they become friends. But when they’re finally in a relationship, he has difficulties showing his own vulnerability, his fears.

It’s not an easy read due to the above mentioned second person narration, no names, just a boy and a girl. I had to fully concentrate on reading the story. At times, I even found myself just indulging the lyricism, the rhythm, like hearing a song and feeling all different kinds of emotions without hearing the words. And then I had to swap back because I didn’t understand the story anymore, and therefore didn’t connect to the MC’s as much as I wanted to. Even the (few) dialogues felt like prose sometimes.

So, don’t read this book just for the plot or the characters or the story; for me the writing felt more important to the author than the story itself. Writing sentences, one even more beautiful than the other, making those sentences feel like a beautiful poem. I have to admit, I missed the story sometimes, the dialogues; reading just snippets. But if you love lyrical prose, and want to let it flood you, this might be the book for you.

It’s hard for me to rate this book. Because of the prose and the premise it’s easily a 4 star, maybe even more. Because of the storyline itself I tend to rate lower. At first my overall rating was 4 stars but after a few days of thinking about it, I make it a 3 star rating because of the storyline. It’s a shame Goodreads doesn’t have half stars because then I would give this book a 3.5 star rating.

Such a beautifully written book that I devoured slowly at the beginning of the month. I found the story as intense as the love between the two main characters within the story. It was one of those books you don't want to put down but you don't want to finish it too fast.

Two young black artists meet and there is a slow intense burn bubbling underneath their friendship that turns them into lovers.

But underneath their inevitability is a story of race and what it means to be black along with a never ending fear and challenged masculinity.

The way their love not only for each other but their passion for their art is described seems almost poetic at heart, yet the underlining story is strong and resilient in this must read debut.
Thank you Caleb and Netgalley for this phenomenonal read

Amazing book. I believe the book being written in second person is a major benefit and aids to the storytelling. It took a bit to get use to the second POV, but I loved it. Made me tear up. I will reread when released.