Recently I’ve been on the lookout for more contained, quieter stories and The Boy from the Sea was a perfect fit.

Set in Donegal, Ireland in the 1970s and 80s, The Boy from the Sea begins when a baby is found floating in a half-barrel in the shallow waters near the shore. The town is instantly fascinated by him and he is soon taken in by the Bonnar family. Now named Brendan, the rest of the story concerns his childhood and growing up alongside his resentful older brother Declan, fisherman father Ambrose, and his tenacious mother Christine. Living close by are his mother’s sister Phyllis and their increasingly infirm father, Eunan.

Times aren’t easy. Between the challenges of fishing and familial conflict, there are a lot of stresses on the family (illness, accidents, dwindling income) and you read with a growing sense of worry about any number of things happening that could shake or destroy this fragile family.

Brendan meanwhile continues to captivate the community. Arriving as he did, he’s imbued with a mystique that seems to follow him as he grows up. He struggles to make friends with peers (and his brother resents him powerfully), but he starts making connections with the odd, the outcast, and the vulnerable in his town.

Carr does a great job of helping us consider the perspectives of each family member as well as the members of his small fishing community. And it’s this last part that I found most interesting as the book is narrated in second person plural. As I proceeded through the book, I came to understand this “we” to be the voice of the townspeople who sit in the local pub sharing gossip and opinions about the Bonnars and presumably everyone else as well. The “we” is never individuated, never broken into separate voices or given names but it acts as a chorus offering sympathy, judgement, and wisdom.

A few years ago, I was incredibly fortunate to be able to visit the west coast of Ireland including the area where The Boy from the Sea is set and that made me appreciate it all the more. Most readers won’t have done so, of course, but not to worry as Carr makes the town and its inhabitants jump off of the page.

If you’re a fan of Irish fiction, family and small town stories, then you may want to check out The Boy from the Sea. I definitely enjoyed it and it filled my need for a story about community, relationships, and redemption.

Atmospheric, intimate, and immersive!

The Boy from the Sea is a captivating, poignant tale that sweeps you away to the Irish coastal village of Donegal and into the lives of the Bonnar family as their lives are irrevocably changed forever when one day they decide to adopt a young baby boy who washed up on the shore in a barrel.

The prose is rich and expressive. The characters are flawed, hardworking, and authentic. And the plot is an astute, compelling tale about life, loss, friendship, family, secrets, curiosity, guilt, jealousy, politics, responsibilities, sibling rivalry, marine life, hope, love, and self-identity.

Overall, The Boy from the Sea is ultimately a beautifully written, tender tale by Carr that does a remarkable job of delving into the complex dynamics that exist between family members and is a wonderful reminder of just how complicated, challenging, memorable and emotional growing up can truly be, especially when doing so in a small island community where everyone knows everyone else.

The novel is set in Killybegs, Ireland’s largest fishing port, in County Donegal. In 1973, an infant is found on the beach and is eventually adopted by Ambrose and Christine Bonnar who already have a two-year-old son named Declan. They name the boy Brendan. The novel covers approximately 18 years, telling the story of the Bonnar family: Ambrose’s struggles to provide for his family as a fisherman, Christine’s contentious relationship with her sister Phyllis, Declan’s bitter jealousy of Brendan, and Brendan’s always feeling like an outsider. We also learn about life in the community.

Point of view is especially interesting. The omniscient narrator, using the first person plural, is the townspeople. The effect is that of a Greek chorus. The reactions of the townspeople to events are documented. As seasons pass, a summary of the fates of others outside the Bonnar family is included: “The season turned. The vocational school had its first public exams and the students did well. The Ros Finn went up on rocks and two of the crew were treated for hypothermia. Johnny the Matchbox won good money on the sweepstakes and we all despaired as he was sure to waste it.”

This narrative approach suggests a story told over a Guinness in an Irish pub. The reader is addressed as someone familiar with the townspeople: “[Pat Ward] wasn’t belonging to the coal dealer Wards, but the Straoughter Wards, the ones with the freckly faces.” What emerges is a real sense of a real place.

Certainly the portrayal of life in a small town is conveyed accurately. Everyone knows everyone’s business and gossip spreads quickly. But there is also support for each other; when tragedy strikes, the entire community shows up to help. What is also shown is the challenges faced by a tight-knit community in a changing world: people leaving the town to find work elsewhere.

Changes in the fishing industry are described. Ambrose is a skilled fisherman with a deep connection to the sea. At first he does well but then he faces competition from larger and larger trawlers. Fishing becomes an increasingly commercialized industry and the ocean is viewed “like it was a factory floor”; near the end of the book, there is reference to dwindling stocks.

The novel also examines other subjects. Sibling relationships are explored: there’s Declan’s unwillingness to accept Brendan as his brother and their intense competition for their father’s love and attention. Both boys make decisions based on rivalry. Christine and Phyllis are close and need each other but disagreements arise: Phyllis feels trapped because she has to care for her father and she objects to Brendan’s adoption so there are clashes and times when the sisters don’t speak to each other.

Another topic that stands out for me is men’s lack of self-reflection and their inability to articulate their feelings: Ambrose belongs to “a lineage of quiet men, each contained to the point of self-repression, generation after generation of horizonwatchers, preferring to look out at a wordless intensity than have even a second of introspection.” The reader is told that “Ambrose had all the language required to define precisely the meaning of a cloud, the character of a sea, an attitude of rain, but to describe his own emotional weather he was limited to ‘Been better,’ ‘Been worse’ and ‘You know yourself.’” Love is seldom expressed; when Declan states he’d love to try a certain fishing ground, Ambrose thinks, “Love was a strong word, everyone listened with interest.” Ambrose leaves for a fishing trip by kissing Christine on the cheek and saying “’Mind yourself.’” One particular description is so fitting: “Donegal men had strikingly big key fobs, we tended to have many padlocks in our lives.”

Despite the novel’s seriousness, there are sprinkles of gentle humour: “If there was a trophy for not mentioning things Tommy would’ve won it, then kept it at the back of his wardrobe and never mentioned it.” A member of Ambrose’s crew complains about his wife wanting an extension built on their home: “’And I don’t even want another room, I’m happy enough to go sit in the car when we’ve a row.’” Phyllis and Christine discuss how it would be better to die than to survive a nuclear bomb: “’but they’ll have no reason to drop a bomb here. Donegal will be ignored again.’”

Some readers might object to the sometimes meandering plot, but I loved the book. Its portrayal of life in a small community is so authentic; I definitely saw my family and childhood reflected in the book and I think many readers will as well.

A new to me author that piqued my interest as an Irish lit Fic that focused on family dynamics and life as a fisherman when a baby is found on a beach.

That’s in a nutshell how it begins but what happens over the next couple hundred pages is a poignant take of community living and the family dynamics of a man, an adopted baby and the family is makes waves within after the papers go through and baby “Brendan” officially becomes theirs.

It reminds me of an Elizabeth Strout book. Or a Jan Karon/Patrick Taylor book.
A “life” book of relationships, family and emotions.

Not a book you’ll speed read but one you’ll sink into.

In a close-knit village in County Donegal on Ireland's west coast in 1973, a newborn baby is found floating in a barrel and the townspeople rally to care for the abandoned child. Local fisherman Ambrose Bonnar and his wife, Christine, who are already parents to a two year-old son named Declan, decide to adopt the baby and call him Brendan. As years go by, the town continues to be fascinated by young Brendan but Declan resents his presence and the fierce rivalry between the two for their father's love has a long-lasting impact on the Bonnar family.

Told over two decades, The Boy from the Sea is a gentle, moving story of a family and their community set in a time of rapid change and economic hardship in Irish fishing villages due to EU fishing quotas and stock depletion in the North Atlantic. I particularly enjoyed the narration by the collective voice of the people of this village on Donegal Bay which was an effective way to show how much the community as a whole was part of the lives of the villagers. With three generations of the Bonnar family, there are many family relationships depicted in this story and all felt authentic.

The Boy from the Sea is a charming Irish story about the lives of ordinary people beautifully-written and told with humour, emotion and much wisdom about life.

Thank you to NetGalley and Pan Macmillan for sending a digital ARC of this book for review consideration. All opinions are my own.

“A Boy from the Sea” by Garrett Carr is a quiet yet poignant coming-of-age story set in the fishing town of Donegal, Ireland, starting in the 1970s. When a baby washes ashore, the Bonner family takes him in, and the novel follows their struggles and growth over the years. At its core, the book is about identity, family, and the dynamics of a small, tight-knit community.

The true protagonist of this novel is the town itself, with its residents—mostly fishermen—grappling with both the universal and unique challenges of their lives. Carr’s exploration of small-town life is intimate, capturing the stillness and subtle tensions of a place where everyone knows each other's business. The story unfolds at a slow pace, which can feel almost meditative at times. The beginning feels languid, and despite some emotional depth, the plot doesn’t fully accelerate after the halfway point. Though it doesn’t have the intensity of a page-turner, the book requires a certain level of patience and dedication to its quiet rhythm.

Ultimately, "A Boy from the Sea" is a slow-burn, but its thoughtful exploration of family, community, and the complexities of identity make it a worthwhile read for those who appreciate introspective storytelling and the depth of a small-town narrative.

Thank you to the publisher and NetGalley for a copy for review.

A baby is found close to the sea and a hard working Irish fishing family raises him but not without some struggles . The child Brendan never really gets accepted by his older brother Declan until the end of the book . This book deals with the hardships of fishing for a living and how families are challenging but at the end of the day they usually are our greatest strengths . A somewhat sad read of the reality of living in a small community where your business is never private and escaping this existence is difficult.

On Irelands's West coast a baby is found on the beach in 1973 alone and scared. A fisherman finds the baby and has to decide what to do with it.