What do you think?
Rate this book
Our Wives Under the Sea
ŷ Choice Award
Nominee for Readers' Favorite Horror (2022), Nominee for Readers' Favorite Debut Novel (2022)Miri thinks she has got her wife back, when Leah finally returns after a deep-sea mission that ended in catastrophe. It soon becomes clear, though, that Leah is not the same. Whatever happened in that vessel, whatever it was they were supposed to be studying before they were stranded on the ocean floor, Leah has brought part of it back with her, onto dry land and into their home.
Moving through something that only resembles normal life, Miri comes to realize that the life that they had before might be gone. Though Leah is still there, Miri can feel the woman she loves slipping from her grasp.
Our Wives Under The Sea is the debut novel from Julia Armfield, the critically acclaimed author of Salt Slow. It’s a story of falling in love, loss, grief, and what life there is in the deep deep sea.
Moving through something that only resembles normal life, Miri comes to realize that the life that they had before might be gone. Though Leah is still there, Miri can feel the woman she loves slipping from her grasp.
Our Wives Under The Sea is the debut novel from Julia Armfield, the critically acclaimed author of Salt Slow. It’s a story of falling in love, loss, grief, and what life there is in the deep deep sea.
240 pages, Paperback
First published March 3, 2022
4,694 people are currently reading
254k people want to read
About the author
Julia Armfield
8books2,306followersJulia Armfield was born in London in 1990. She is a fiction writer and occasional playwright with a Masters in Victorian Art and Literature from Royal Holloway University. She was shortlisted for the Sunday Times Young Writer of the Year in 2019. She was commended in the Moth Short Story Prize 2017, longlisted for the Deborah Rogers Award 2018, and won the White Review short story prize 2018. Her first book, salt slow, is a collection of short stories about bodies and the bodily, mapping the skin and bones of its characters through their experiences of isolation, obsession and love. She won the Pushcart Prize in 2020. Julia Armfield lives and works in London.
Ratings & Reviews
Friends & Following
Create a free account to discover what your friends think of this book!
Community Reviews
Displaying 1 - 30 of 20,897 reviews
August 14, 2024
�To know the ocean, I have always felt, is to recognize the teeth it keeps half-hidden.�
When Florence Welch recommends a book, I have to read it. This is just how things work. And this is how I spent my vacation travel time with a slow-burn, haunting and heartbreaking work that examines loss within the framework of horror, something most would probably not recommend as relaxation reading but for me it was infectiously perfect. Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield is a quiet earthquake, slowly rearranging your emotions through ever-growing tension and terror while simultaneously being incredibly tender. On the surface this is a horror novel, rocking on the waves of perspectives between married couple Miri and Leah as they tell of Leah’s traumatic submarine accident that has left her slowly transforming from the person she once was in a series of ghastly and chilling scenes. Most of the novel, however, recounts their relationship in contrast with the nearly-absent Leah of the present and the now-caregiver Miri who is at her wits end. �The thing about losing someone isn’t the loss but the absence of afterward,� Leah is told, and Armfield dives beneath the waves of loss to explore the void of absence and, at its heart, this novel is a moving meditation on grief and what it means to love a person. Armfield manages to make Our Wives Under the Sea a novel in which you will find yourself both shivering and sobbing as it slowly pulls you under into its shadowy depths.
**For added review reading benefit, this is a perfect pairing**
�The deep sea is a haunted house, a place in which things that ought not to exist move about in the darkness.�
While I found this novel to be incredibly provocative and enjoyable, I suspect it will appeal mostly to a niche audience. It is less a horror novel and more an emotional interrogation set in a horror setting, blended to taste with a preference for the flavors of grief. Luckily, this is the sort of genre-experimentation I truly crave and for me the lack of much actually happening only seemed to heighten the tension of what was going on underneath. Armfield executes it all in gorgeous prose that is as unnerving as it is often rather romantic.
�Every couple, I think, enjoys its own mythology,� Miri reflects, �recollections like note cards to guide you around an exhibition.� The novel is set upon Leah’s return after half a year’s absence stuck in a sunken submarine and much of the time is spent looking back on the Leah of the past now that present self seems a disintegrating shell devoid of the Leah she once knew. We are treated to reminicents of their story together, the sort of memories that become bathed in the light of golden era nostalgia and tell the narrative of a couple. It’s this museum of memories that makes the absence much more pronounced after a break-up or death, for instance. However, Armfield asks us if �we cry for ourselves without the person we have lost far more than we cry for the person,� sort of like how in an on-again-off-again relationship the memories tease us back into thinking it can work before the reality of a person beyond the cherry-picked memories reminds us why it didn’t in the first place. The book seems like scattered vignettes, but that is precisely the effect Armfield hopes to convey:
It is a really beautiful endeavor, seen in this light, with the novel being a prolonged terror plunging towards loss backlit by a montague of endearing memories. In effect it also examines how difficult it is to truly convey the impression of a romantic interest to someone not seeing them through your eyes:
It’s passages like this that really drove this book deep into my heart and made me care for these characters. As well as adorable passages of their early love and learning each other. �When I returned to this story later, I would superimpose an eighteen-year-old me over the top of the girlfriend, scribbling her out and sketching my lines in more permanent ink,� Miri confesses in a cute section about Leah’s teenage past working in an aquarium.
Amidst all the horrors and Leah’s slow-burn retelling of what occurred beneath the ocean—brief passages that descend into a fever pitch of confusion and trauma—Armfield delivers a really moving portrait of relationships in general, being sincere, humorous, and often critical. I gasped at the mention of how Miri was relieved that a married couple they become couple-friends with was able to be funny without relying on their jokes being insults of their partner, which is a very spot on observation. Armfield also depicts a loving queer relationship that addresses the realistic aspects of being a woman in a patriarchal world, though the focus is on their love and coming together and not facing homophobia, which is nice to be able to read about the couple thriving instead of battling against society. The horrors here are something else, something lurking in the deep.
The loss of Leah, even when she is still here, is juxtaposed with Miri’s loss of her mother to a degenerative disease, showing the two situations as similar but more for the effect of highlighting their individualities. There is a motif of degeneration in this novel, such as Miri’s friend having her eyesight declining, and we are reminded that for as much love as our bodies can contain, they cannot forever remain. Loss is inevitable, and therefore coping is necessary. �My heart is a thin thing, these days,� Miri tells us, �shred of paper blown between the spaces in my ribs.� The grief is disintegrating her as well, like an infectious symptom.
A stand-out portion of the novel involves Miri, during her months of not knowing where Leah is, discovering an online group that playacts as a support group for people with husbands that have vanished into space on long voyages. Armfield even creates an in-group set of terms and abbreviations (MTM: mission to mars, for example) that show the lengths people will go to examine the feeling of loss and lack, even when the lack is invented. It reminds us that this is a universal feeling, but one we often keep out of the public eye or even hide from our friends as if it is shameful. The healing, it seems, comes when we share grief together.
One thing that really struck me is how well researched this book is. The ocean facts prop the book up nicely and there is such care to keep the language centered on the idea of diving beneath the waves. Even the characters depressive thoughts are referred to as �sunken thoughts.� The ocean is a scary place in Armfield’s hands, a place she reminds us we know less about than the surface of the moon. The novel is even separated into sections titled after depths of the ocean. In an , Armfield discusses why the ocean is such a perfect setting for this queer romance/horror, being �as a symbol of something forbidden,� that functions as �a very natural setting for coming-out narratives.� The ocean itself comes alive like a character here, full of dread and mystery.
Armfield has taken great care for this to come across in the novel, and I certainly will never look at a body of water the same. It is both the metaphor and the monster here.
�Miri said this to me once: Every horror movie ends the way you know it will.� Without spoiling anything, this novel heads on a trajectory and satisfyingly stays its course. The book feels like a combination of and a more-successful version of the final episode to , being more interested in the horrors of it’s themes than needing to satisfy a purely plot-driven conclusion. I would argue it does both, but I prefer quiet novels like this. There is so much intrigue going on in small doses that really keep you flipping pages, from the bizarre effects on Leah’s body, the mysterious Center she works for, and by leaving everything fairly vague and mysterious throughout the novel, Armfield allows the horror to seep into our thoughts and make us question our own interpretations. Scary, sweet and sinister, Our Wives Under the Sea is a brilliant examination of loss and a story that will haunt me for a long time. Come for the creepy, stay for the crying.
5/5
�When I was younger, I think some glib or cavalier part of me always believed that there was no such thing as heartache - that it was simply a case of things getting in past the ribcage and finding there was no way out. I know now, of course, that this was a stupid thing to think, in so far as most things we believe will turn out to be ridiculous in the end.�
When Florence Welch recommends a book, I have to read it. This is just how things work. And this is how I spent my vacation travel time with a slow-burn, haunting and heartbreaking work that examines loss within the framework of horror, something most would probably not recommend as relaxation reading but for me it was infectiously perfect. Our Wives Under the Sea by Julia Armfield is a quiet earthquake, slowly rearranging your emotions through ever-growing tension and terror while simultaneously being incredibly tender. On the surface this is a horror novel, rocking on the waves of perspectives between married couple Miri and Leah as they tell of Leah’s traumatic submarine accident that has left her slowly transforming from the person she once was in a series of ghastly and chilling scenes. Most of the novel, however, recounts their relationship in contrast with the nearly-absent Leah of the present and the now-caregiver Miri who is at her wits end. �The thing about losing someone isn’t the loss but the absence of afterward,� Leah is told, and Armfield dives beneath the waves of loss to explore the void of absence and, at its heart, this novel is a moving meditation on grief and what it means to love a person. Armfield manages to make Our Wives Under the Sea a novel in which you will find yourself both shivering and sobbing as it slowly pulls you under into its shadowy depths.
**For added review reading benefit, this is a perfect pairing**
�The deep sea is a haunted house, a place in which things that ought not to exist move about in the darkness.�
While I found this novel to be incredibly provocative and enjoyable, I suspect it will appeal mostly to a niche audience. It is less a horror novel and more an emotional interrogation set in a horror setting, blended to taste with a preference for the flavors of grief. Luckily, this is the sort of genre-experimentation I truly crave and for me the lack of much actually happening only seemed to heighten the tension of what was going on underneath. Armfield executes it all in gorgeous prose that is as unnerving as it is often rather romantic.
�Every couple, I think, enjoys its own mythology,� Miri reflects, �recollections like note cards to guide you around an exhibition.� The novel is set upon Leah’s return after half a year’s absence stuck in a sunken submarine and much of the time is spent looking back on the Leah of the past now that present self seems a disintegrating shell devoid of the Leah she once knew. We are treated to reminicents of their story together, the sort of memories that become bathed in the light of golden era nostalgia and tell the narrative of a couple. It’s this museum of memories that makes the absence much more pronounced after a break-up or death, for instance. However, Armfield asks us if �we cry for ourselves without the person we have lost far more than we cry for the person,� sort of like how in an on-again-off-again relationship the memories tease us back into thinking it can work before the reality of a person beyond the cherry-picked memories reminds us why it didn’t in the first place. The book seems like scattered vignettes, but that is precisely the effect Armfield hopes to convey:
�It’s easier, I think, to consider the fact of us in its many disparate pieces, as opposed to one vast and intractable thing. Easier, I think, to claw through the scatter of us in the hopes of retrieving something, of pulling some singular thing from the debris and holding it up to the light.
So, in pieces, then: a long time ago, we met.�
It is a really beautiful endeavor, seen in this light, with the novel being a prolonged terror plunging towards loss backlit by a montague of endearing memories. In effect it also examines how difficult it is to truly convey the impression of a romantic interest to someone not seeing them through your eyes:
�I want to explain her in a way that would make you love her, but the problem with this is that loving is something we all do alone and through different sets of eyes. It’s nearly impossible, at least in my experience, to listen to someone telling a story about a partner and not wish they’d get to the point a little faster…It’s easy to understand why someone might love a person but far more difficult to push yourself down into that understanding, to pull it up to your chin like bedclothes and feel it settling around you as something true.�
It’s passages like this that really drove this book deep into my heart and made me care for these characters. As well as adorable passages of their early love and learning each other. �When I returned to this story later, I would superimpose an eighteen-year-old me over the top of the girlfriend, scribbling her out and sketching my lines in more permanent ink,� Miri confesses in a cute section about Leah’s teenage past working in an aquarium.
Amidst all the horrors and Leah’s slow-burn retelling of what occurred beneath the ocean—brief passages that descend into a fever pitch of confusion and trauma—Armfield delivers a really moving portrait of relationships in general, being sincere, humorous, and often critical. I gasped at the mention of how Miri was relieved that a married couple they become couple-friends with was able to be funny without relying on their jokes being insults of their partner, which is a very spot on observation. Armfield also depicts a loving queer relationship that addresses the realistic aspects of being a woman in a patriarchal world, though the focus is on their love and coming together and not facing homophobia, which is nice to be able to read about the couple thriving instead of battling against society. The horrors here are something else, something lurking in the deep.
The loss of Leah, even when she is still here, is juxtaposed with Miri’s loss of her mother to a degenerative disease, showing the two situations as similar but more for the effect of highlighting their individualities. There is a motif of degeneration in this novel, such as Miri’s friend having her eyesight declining, and we are reminded that for as much love as our bodies can contain, they cannot forever remain. Loss is inevitable, and therefore coping is necessary. �My heart is a thin thing, these days,� Miri tells us, �shred of paper blown between the spaces in my ribs.� The grief is disintegrating her as well, like an infectious symptom.
A stand-out portion of the novel involves Miri, during her months of not knowing where Leah is, discovering an online group that playacts as a support group for people with husbands that have vanished into space on long voyages. Armfield even creates an in-group set of terms and abbreviations (MTM: mission to mars, for example) that show the lengths people will go to examine the feeling of loss and lack, even when the lack is invented. It reminds us that this is a universal feeling, but one we often keep out of the public eye or even hide from our friends as if it is shameful. The healing, it seems, comes when we share grief together.
One thing that really struck me is how well researched this book is. The ocean facts prop the book up nicely and there is such care to keep the language centered on the idea of diving beneath the waves. Even the characters depressive thoughts are referred to as �sunken thoughts.� The ocean is a scary place in Armfield’s hands, a place she reminds us we know less about than the surface of the moon. The novel is even separated into sections titled after depths of the ocean. In an , Armfield discusses why the ocean is such a perfect setting for this queer romance/horror, being �as a symbol of something forbidden,� that functions as �a very natural setting for coming-out narratives.� The ocean itself comes alive like a character here, full of dread and mystery.
�I think it also has something to do with the fact that the sea can be many things at once. It can be very calm on the surface, and something can be going on underneath. That speaks to the way that we as queer people have to be so many different things to so many different people: to our parents, at work, to society, to our partners, et cetera. It’s a really useful tool in queer storytelling, which is why people return to it.�
Armfield has taken great care for this to come across in the novel, and I certainly will never look at a body of water the same. It is both the metaphor and the monster here.
�Miri said this to me once: Every horror movie ends the way you know it will.� Without spoiling anything, this novel heads on a trajectory and satisfyingly stays its course. The book feels like a combination of and a more-successful version of the final episode to , being more interested in the horrors of it’s themes than needing to satisfy a purely plot-driven conclusion. I would argue it does both, but I prefer quiet novels like this. There is so much intrigue going on in small doses that really keep you flipping pages, from the bizarre effects on Leah’s body, the mysterious Center she works for, and by leaving everything fairly vague and mysterious throughout the novel, Armfield allows the horror to seep into our thoughts and make us question our own interpretations. Scary, sweet and sinister, Our Wives Under the Sea is a brilliant examination of loss and a story that will haunt me for a long time. Come for the creepy, stay for the crying.
5/5
�When I was younger, I think some glib or cavalier part of me always believed that there was no such thing as heartache - that it was simply a case of things getting in past the ribcage and finding there was no way out. I know now, of course, that this was a stupid thing to think, in so far as most things we believe will turn out to be ridiculous in the end.�
January 2, 2023
I loved reading this book. I read this during my commutes and was absolutely absorbed from the beginning, which is a rare but great experience. This will have a niche audience for sure - it’s very slow and filled with long paragraphs, so it’s not for everyone, but it really hit for me and I was immersed the whole time. The writing is beautiful and flows so naturally. Sometimes you can tell when an author is trying their hardest to be as descriptive as possible; this book just feels so innate and organic with its imagery and interiority. The themes of grief and sapphic love were so tender and melancholic that it hit me in a very special way. There’s a touch of horror that I found compelling as well. It’s incredibly researched, tying oceanography into more emotional themes. Overall, a stunning and unique book that will definitely be in my top favorites this year.
June 19, 2024
sapphic literary horror with a gorgeous cover...i like all of these words.
and the point of this book is: the ocean is scary! i find all of the great unknowns frightening: the deep sea. space. the figurative one. my own self.
in fact, they're a lot scarier than anything else. all of the most wicked and evil horror movies have faceless villains, like human greed or vague hauntings or creeping insanity.
so true to form, the best part of this book was like...the 40% mark to the 90% mark. the growing unease. the increasing dread. the mystery.
the ocean is so unknown and so mythical-feeling that this book may not have worked. but instead it grounded (forgive the pun) itself with tangible real world terms and googleable things, managing to feel real while insane things were happening.
it was scary and fun, mostly!
bottom line: love a good weird horror.
and the point of this book is: the ocean is scary! i find all of the great unknowns frightening: the deep sea. space. the figurative one. my own self.
in fact, they're a lot scarier than anything else. all of the most wicked and evil horror movies have faceless villains, like human greed or vague hauntings or creeping insanity.
so true to form, the best part of this book was like...the 40% mark to the 90% mark. the growing unease. the increasing dread. the mystery.
the ocean is so unknown and so mythical-feeling that this book may not have worked. but instead it grounded (forgive the pun) itself with tangible real world terms and googleable things, managing to feel real while insane things were happening.
it was scary and fun, mostly!
bottom line: love a good weird horror.
July 13, 2022
This was a beautiful, exquisitely slow and odd little story. I'm excited for this to find its niche audience, but weary of it inevitably becoming referred to as "overhyped" once it does.
January 10, 2024
Devastatingly sad! Thanks!
December 3, 2021
| | | | | |
2 ½ damp stars (rounded up because i really really really wanted to love this)
The cover, title, premise, and early hype around this novel made me think that I was going to love it. Alas, as it often seems to be the case, Our Wives Under The Sea did not work for me. If you are interested in this novel I recommend that you check out more positive reviews.
At first, I gave this novel the benefit of the doubt, but with each chapter, my expectations sunk (ah-ah) lower and lower. This is one of those novels that prioritises language over say characters or story, which is something that I’m sure will work for many types of readers, it just so happens that I am not one of them. Through alternating chapters, Our Wives Under The Sea follows wives Miri and Leah. Their marriage and relationship are very much in limbo after Leah returns from a deep-sea mission gone awry. The experience has clearly altered Leah and Miri struggles to reconcile herself to the fact that the woman she married is no more. In Miri’s chapter, we read of Leah’s strange behaviours: she takes long baths, avoids leaving the house, has frequent nose-bleeds, and seems wholly disassociated from her surroundings. Miri’s chapters also give us some insight into their relationship prior to this disastrous mission (how they met, how they were as a couple, etc.). In Leah’s chapters, which are far shorter, and are meant to highlight her alienated state of mind, we mostly learn about what went on in that mission.
In spite of the intimacy achieved by focusing solely on Miri and Leah (secondary characters are very much at the margins of the narrative), I found the novel’s overall tone cold. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I like plenty of authors who write in this slightly ‘distancing� way (Jhumpa Lahiri and Brandon Taylor come to mind). However, I have to care or be interested in the people they write about. Here, surprisingly enough, I found myself feeling nothing for either Miri or Leah. Their voices were too similar, something that I found rather frustrating. Their inner-monologues and their observations (about others, the past, themselves) were eerily alike. Which made it difficult for me to see them as individuals, but rather they merged into this one water-obsessed figure. And speaking of water, gesù. We have water metaphors and imagery, water-related speculations, and conversations on water/sea/ocean/sea creatures. I understand that the water & the sea are central themes of this novel (if not the theme) however it got repetitive and, worse still, contrived. The author’s language was impressionistic, trying too hard to be direct and gritty ("red mouth in the morning, red chin, red spill into the sink" / "Miri bit at her skin of her lip so often that kissing tasted bloody; metallic zip of a licked battery"). Her prose was too dramatic, full of flashy metaphors ("beneath her shirt, the bones of her shoulder swing the way a hanger will when knocked inside a wardrobe"). There were paragraphs or reflections that I liked or that struck me as insightful and sharp but I wish that I’d felt more attached or emotionally invested in the story. I had a hard time ‘believing� in our two main characters, perhaps due to a combination of their voices sounding too much alike and they were both so...water obsessed? Their personalities were vague and the author seemed more intent on evoking a certain atmosphere than on providing us with fully dimensional and nuanced characters.
All in all, this novel was a big disappointment. I went in thinking that I would love it, realised a few pages in that the writing was going for this simultaneously dreamlike and raw sort of vibe (which did nothing for me here) and found myself bored by most of the narrative. It didn't elicit any particular feelings or reactions in me. This is the kind of novel that screams MFA. It wants to be stylish and edgy but (and here i remind you that i am merely expressing my own entirely subjective opinion so please don't @ me) but feels contrived and unconvincing. A lot of the dialogues didn't ring true to life, characters' reactions were slightly off, and the narrators' voices were much to similar (that occasionally they address the reader or say things like 'you see' made it all more gimmicky).
2 ½ damp stars (rounded up because i really really really wanted to love this)
“The deep sea is a haunted house: a place in which things that ought not to exist move about in the darkness.�
The cover, title, premise, and early hype around this novel made me think that I was going to love it. Alas, as it often seems to be the case, Our Wives Under The Sea did not work for me. If you are interested in this novel I recommend that you check out more positive reviews.
At first, I gave this novel the benefit of the doubt, but with each chapter, my expectations sunk (ah-ah) lower and lower. This is one of those novels that prioritises language over say characters or story, which is something that I’m sure will work for many types of readers, it just so happens that I am not one of them. Through alternating chapters, Our Wives Under The Sea follows wives Miri and Leah. Their marriage and relationship are very much in limbo after Leah returns from a deep-sea mission gone awry. The experience has clearly altered Leah and Miri struggles to reconcile herself to the fact that the woman she married is no more. In Miri’s chapter, we read of Leah’s strange behaviours: she takes long baths, avoids leaving the house, has frequent nose-bleeds, and seems wholly disassociated from her surroundings. Miri’s chapters also give us some insight into their relationship prior to this disastrous mission (how they met, how they were as a couple, etc.). In Leah’s chapters, which are far shorter, and are meant to highlight her alienated state of mind, we mostly learn about what went on in that mission.
“Every couple, I think, enjoys its own mythology, recollections like notecards to guide you round an exhibition.�
In spite of the intimacy achieved by focusing solely on Miri and Leah (secondary characters are very much at the margins of the narrative), I found the novel’s overall tone cold. This isn’t necessarily a bad thing, I like plenty of authors who write in this slightly ‘distancing� way (Jhumpa Lahiri and Brandon Taylor come to mind). However, I have to care or be interested in the people they write about. Here, surprisingly enough, I found myself feeling nothing for either Miri or Leah. Their voices were too similar, something that I found rather frustrating. Their inner-monologues and their observations (about others, the past, themselves) were eerily alike. Which made it difficult for me to see them as individuals, but rather they merged into this one water-obsessed figure. And speaking of water, gesù. We have water metaphors and imagery, water-related speculations, and conversations on water/sea/ocean/sea creatures. I understand that the water & the sea are central themes of this novel (if not the theme) however it got repetitive and, worse still, contrived. The author’s language was impressionistic, trying too hard to be direct and gritty ("red mouth in the morning, red chin, red spill into the sink" / "Miri bit at her skin of her lip so often that kissing tasted bloody; metallic zip of a licked battery"). Her prose was too dramatic, full of flashy metaphors ("beneath her shirt, the bones of her shoulder swing the way a hanger will when knocked inside a wardrobe"). There were paragraphs or reflections that I liked or that struck me as insightful and sharp but I wish that I’d felt more attached or emotionally invested in the story. I had a hard time ‘believing� in our two main characters, perhaps due to a combination of their voices sounding too much alike and they were both so...water obsessed? Their personalities were vague and the author seemed more intent on evoking a certain atmosphere than on providing us with fully dimensional and nuanced characters.
All in all, this novel was a big disappointment. I went in thinking that I would love it, realised a few pages in that the writing was going for this simultaneously dreamlike and raw sort of vibe (which did nothing for me here) and found myself bored by most of the narrative. It didn't elicit any particular feelings or reactions in me. This is the kind of novel that screams MFA. It wants to be stylish and edgy but (and here i remind you that i am merely expressing my own entirely subjective opinion so please don't @ me) but feels contrived and unconvincing. A lot of the dialogues didn't ring true to life, characters' reactions were slightly off, and the narrators' voices were much to similar (that occasionally they address the reader or say things like 'you see' made it all more gimmicky).
March 18, 2024
the sea is absolutely none of my business
Read
August 17, 2024I'm puzzled by this book. I think those who love it are able to leap over the structural haziness of the novel, and appreciate it for the lushness of the prose and also for the startling originality of some of the scenes. That's why I'm puzzled about why there are an equal or greater number of boring unnecessary scenes, of people meeting over coffee and having conversations that go nowhere.
This novel is like a handful of unset gemstones in a black velvet bag.
This novel is like a handful of unset gemstones in a black velvet bag.
December 30, 2022
this shit magical
April 3, 2023
MIRI
I sat on my couch. I am a lesbian. My wife is suffering and she’s turning on all the faucets and the shower. I’m worried about how to pay the water bill, but I won’t make any attempt to turn the water off. Call the doctor? Call the workplace? Ok.
LEAH
Did you know jellyfish? Did you know octopus? Burning meat smell. Matteo and Jelka. Does Jelka know I’m a lesbian? Because she’s Catholic. Matteo whistles. Oops my skin is translucent like a deep sea fish. Did you know I hated the ocean but then I lived the ocean? My dad was a jerk. Did you know water?
MIRI
I hate people, they suck. I’m a lesbian. My mom died. I remember a time when Leah did something cute like touch my foot with her foot. We are a couple. But also I’m mad at her because she underwent something traumatic in the ocean so now I’m gonna be an absolutely selfish and terrible partner to her.
LEAH
Blub blub
MIRI
I’m not gonna do anything except say something surprisingly relatable out of nowhere, then be a twat and replay past parties in my mind where I hated everyone. My wife’s being a problem again. Hey I’m a lesbian and no one understands. Oof, neighbors listening to loud TV again lol.
[This book was painful and the character of Miri was even more painful. The prose is only decent, but because it is languidly depressing, it’s tricking people into thinking this is a good book.
Disappointing.]
I sat on my couch. I am a lesbian. My wife is suffering and she’s turning on all the faucets and the shower. I’m worried about how to pay the water bill, but I won’t make any attempt to turn the water off. Call the doctor? Call the workplace? Ok.
LEAH
Did you know jellyfish? Did you know octopus? Burning meat smell. Matteo and Jelka. Does Jelka know I’m a lesbian? Because she’s Catholic. Matteo whistles. Oops my skin is translucent like a deep sea fish. Did you know I hated the ocean but then I lived the ocean? My dad was a jerk. Did you know water?
MIRI
I hate people, they suck. I’m a lesbian. My mom died. I remember a time when Leah did something cute like touch my foot with her foot. We are a couple. But also I’m mad at her because she underwent something traumatic in the ocean so now I’m gonna be an absolutely selfish and terrible partner to her.
LEAH
Blub blub
MIRI
I’m not gonna do anything except say something surprisingly relatable out of nowhere, then be a twat and replay past parties in my mind where I hated everyone. My wife’s being a problem again. Hey I’m a lesbian and no one understands. Oof, neighbors listening to loud TV again lol.
[This book was painful and the character of Miri was even more painful. The prose is only decent, but because it is languidly depressing, it’s tricking people into thinking this is a good book.
Disappointing.]
October 12, 2024
“It’s hard when you look up and realise that everyone’s moved off and left you in that place by yourself. Like they’ve all gone on and you’re there still, holding on to this person you’re supposed to let go of.�
this is a heartbreakingly beautifully written book that the reader can interpret in many different ways. But this ultimately is a story about how grief can impact us, change us, shape us.
this will not be a book for everyone, and even though there are so many eerie scenes, the sadness and loneliness and helplessness i felt while reading was the scariest horror elements for me. i cried for the entire end of this, and for sure at least half of my tears were because i was purely heavy sad, but i also think it’s because this story is so expertly crafted that half of my tears were the light feeling of feeling seen and felt cathartic to let out.
letting go can be so hard, even when it is the right thing, and especially if you are given no other option but to let go. but this book just amplifies, and continues to echo throughout, that reality so very much, because sometimes you really are forced to give up the entire sum of your heart, and you’ll never be prepared for the timing of it. we as humans just are not equipped to deal with that instant emptiness, no matter how many times we read about it in books.
“I want to explain her in a way that would make you love her, but the problem with this is that loving is something we all do alone and through different sets of eyes.�i saw someone else say this, but this writing truly feels like the ebb and flow of a great body of water. i even noticed myself rocking slightly back and forth while turning these pages, because this is crafted in such a way that it truly does make the reading experience feel like waves (sometimes crashing against my heart over and over again eroding at something). such a hypnotic style and craft, i really can’t believe this is a debut novel.
again, i just know this is not going to be for everyone, maybe not even for the majority of readers, but i think this book could very much connect with certain readers. And if it does, i think you’ll love it wholeheartedly. also, maybe unimportantly, this book cover is truly an all time favorite for me. haunting, beautiful, and memorable just like the story inside.
lastly, that just really just makes my heart overflow with immeasurable joy, seeing queer writers subvert, empower, and reclaim the horror genre.
trigger + content warnings: grief, depression, death, loss of a loved one, loss of a parent, terminal illness, not great parents, a lot of blood depiction, body horror, talk of eating habits, hypochondria, insect mentions, menstruation mention, needle imagery, vomit, memory loss, nightmares, suicide, confinement that made me feel a little claustrophobic with the descriptions (being trapped in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean for six months)
| | | | |
� buddy read with Ѳë!
July 25, 2022
Rounded down from roughly 3.5 stars ⭐️
Our Wives Under the Sea swaps between the point of view of Miri and her wife Leah. Leah has just returned from a submarine work trip that did not go as expected. But the Leah who returns is a stark contrast to the one who left.
I’m not 100% sure what I’ve just read, which makes this book quite difficult to review. I absolutely loved the unique take and can honestly say I’ve never read anything like this before. It had a horror element and atmosphere that I lapped up. But, I was never fully sure what was going on. Maybe it is just as the story describes it, maybe it’s meant to be confusing and suspended from reality. Or maybe I have missed something. Either way, I love reading something different and I know this haunting storyline will stay with me for a long time.
One of my biggest issues, aside from the general confusion, was that I didn’t connect to either Miri or Leah. This always dampens my enjoyment of a book but especially when books are set from multiple POV’s. That being said, this book kept me turning the pages and although I was confused and unattached, I didn’t want to put it down! The tension created by the submarine trip really sucked me in. I particularly loved Leah’s chapters because they had a dark and creepy atmosphere. I could really picture myself trapped in the submarine. Overall, I cannot wait to see what this author does next as this was a promising debut novel.
I recommend this for fans of horror but please be prepared for quite an unusual read! I want to thank Netgalley, Pan Macmillan (Picador) and Julia Armfield for allowing me to read this book and give my personal thoughts.
Our Wives Under the Sea swaps between the point of view of Miri and her wife Leah. Leah has just returned from a submarine work trip that did not go as expected. But the Leah who returns is a stark contrast to the one who left.
I’m not 100% sure what I’ve just read, which makes this book quite difficult to review. I absolutely loved the unique take and can honestly say I’ve never read anything like this before. It had a horror element and atmosphere that I lapped up. But, I was never fully sure what was going on. Maybe it is just as the story describes it, maybe it’s meant to be confusing and suspended from reality. Or maybe I have missed something. Either way, I love reading something different and I know this haunting storyline will stay with me for a long time.
One of my biggest issues, aside from the general confusion, was that I didn’t connect to either Miri or Leah. This always dampens my enjoyment of a book but especially when books are set from multiple POV’s. That being said, this book kept me turning the pages and although I was confused and unattached, I didn’t want to put it down! The tension created by the submarine trip really sucked me in. I particularly loved Leah’s chapters because they had a dark and creepy atmosphere. I could really picture myself trapped in the submarine. Overall, I cannot wait to see what this author does next as this was a promising debut novel.
I recommend this for fans of horror but please be prepared for quite an unusual read! I want to thank Netgalley, Pan Macmillan (Picador) and Julia Armfield for allowing me to read this book and give my personal thoughts.
September 29, 2023
I wanted to love this but I didn't.
If you enjoyed "this is how you lose the time war", you'll probably like this.
If you enjoyed "this is how you lose the time war", you'll probably like this.
November 10, 2024
This is a strange and unsettling love story—beautifully weird and deeply sad. It’s about the things we do, the lengths we go, and the sacrifices we make for the person we love most.
I absolutely love the audiobook format; it gave me an excellent experience. Here’s the link for a sample and the audiobook format link:
The story draws you into a world where the fantastical and the science fictional merge, creating an atmosphere that's both surreal and dreamlike. It’s like being caught in one of those nightmares where everything feels slightly off—where something terrible is happening, but you can’t do anything to stop it. You know the kind: you’re wandering, lost and unable to find your way home; you've forgotten something crucial, but you can't remember what; your teeth crumble and fall out one by one. In the real world, these would be minor inconveniences—simple problems you could solve with a map or a dentist appointment. But here, they spin out of control, into a nightmarish chaos that defies all logic.
As the plot unfolds, it can feel absurd, even nonsensical, almost like a fever dream you can't wake up from. But under this eerie surface, the true heart of the story lies in the ordinary moments. It’s in those tiny, everyday details that define what it means to love someone. It’s in the small gestures that become cherished memories, the bits of conversation that stay with you long after they’re said, even the arguments and minor annoyances that come with loving someone. These intimate moments piece together our idea of the person we love, making them who they are in our eyes. In the end, no matter how strange or unsettling, it’s a love story, through and through.
I absolutely love the audiobook format; it gave me an excellent experience. Here’s the link for a sample and the audiobook format link:
The story draws you into a world where the fantastical and the science fictional merge, creating an atmosphere that's both surreal and dreamlike. It’s like being caught in one of those nightmares where everything feels slightly off—where something terrible is happening, but you can’t do anything to stop it. You know the kind: you’re wandering, lost and unable to find your way home; you've forgotten something crucial, but you can't remember what; your teeth crumble and fall out one by one. In the real world, these would be minor inconveniences—simple problems you could solve with a map or a dentist appointment. But here, they spin out of control, into a nightmarish chaos that defies all logic.
As the plot unfolds, it can feel absurd, even nonsensical, almost like a fever dream you can't wake up from. But under this eerie surface, the true heart of the story lies in the ordinary moments. It’s in those tiny, everyday details that define what it means to love someone. It’s in the small gestures that become cherished memories, the bits of conversation that stay with you long after they’re said, even the arguments and minor annoyances that come with loving someone. These intimate moments piece together our idea of the person we love, making them who they are in our eyes. In the end, no matter how strange or unsettling, it’s a love story, through and through.
January 17, 2023
Such a beautiful, lyrical horror/romance novel. I can't say that I quite know what it was all about, my brain can't quite wrap around all of the themes and what they mean. But, for once, it doesn't really matter. I can sink into the beautiful writing and realize that this book will mean different things to different people.
All at once it's a novel about loss, about love, and about grief. About the letting go and the holding close. It is the tale of two women, Miri and Leah, who are separated for six months when Leah's deep-sea mission encounters issues and she is stuck under the sea. When she returns, nothing is as it was. We experience their lives before as flashbacks, their lives during the ordeal, and what happens afterward. Although that seems like a straightforward story, this book is anything but that.
This isn't an easy read, and there are no easy answers or interpretations. This is the kind of book that burrows itself deep inside of you and begs to be talked about. Armfield's prose is delicate, yet fierce; brutal in its imagery yet fragile in its meaning.
It's a book for a particular reader at a particular time, one who wants to take the time to ponder and mull over the different parts of it. If I had read this at another time would I have liked it this much? Maybe, maybe not. I listened to the audiobook, which is fabulously produced. The two narrators give perfect voices to the main characters and make them more relatable to me.
I voluntarily reviewed a complimentary copy of this book, all opinions are my own.
All at once it's a novel about loss, about love, and about grief. About the letting go and the holding close. It is the tale of two women, Miri and Leah, who are separated for six months when Leah's deep-sea mission encounters issues and she is stuck under the sea. When she returns, nothing is as it was. We experience their lives before as flashbacks, their lives during the ordeal, and what happens afterward. Although that seems like a straightforward story, this book is anything but that.
This isn't an easy read, and there are no easy answers or interpretations. This is the kind of book that burrows itself deep inside of you and begs to be talked about. Armfield's prose is delicate, yet fierce; brutal in its imagery yet fragile in its meaning.
It's a book for a particular reader at a particular time, one who wants to take the time to ponder and mull over the different parts of it. If I had read this at another time would I have liked it this much? Maybe, maybe not. I listened to the audiobook, which is fabulously produced. The two narrators give perfect voices to the main characters and make them more relatable to me.
I voluntarily reviewed a complimentary copy of this book, all opinions are my own.
March 2, 2022
(2.5) File under ‘not for me�. The premise is striking (Miri’s wife Leah returns from a deep-sea mission mysteriously changed) and the opening sentences irresistible (‘the deep sea is a haunted house� is a perfect line, quoted in every other review for good reason). The book is full of water imagery and metaphors, which also seem apt for my feelings about the story and characters; like they were slipping away, pouring through my fingers, before I had a chance to get a grip on anything. Every time I got excited about some element of the story � the dramatic potential of the botched submarine dive, the mystery surrounding ‘the Centre�, the online forum where people pretend to have husbands lost in space! � I soon found myself plunged back into more of Miri reminiscing about the early stages of their relationship, or Leah’s very slow-paced chapters. Our Wives is really all about Miri and Leah’s love story, and there’s only so much I can bring myself to care about a love described in such cold, glancing terms. I felt it would’ve worked better as a short story.
I received an advance review copy of Our Wives Under the Sea from the publisher through .
|
I received an advance review copy of Our Wives Under the Sea from the publisher through .
|
March 28, 2023
My brain is just not wired to enjoy these cool girl sad books and I am very bummed about it!!!
July 11, 2022
I really really did not like this book, I had such high hopes when I requested it on netgalley. It could have been a great read but every time the story started to take shape, the author was like nope, can’t have that and started a new chapter.
This story was watery. It had no substance. It tried too hard. This whole book is vague. Like what even happened? Why was Leah on a submarine? Why did Miri just like accept her wife was becoming a sea creature? Why did I keep reading? What was the weird voice they heard in the submarine? What was the Centre? Was this supposed to be an allegory for letting go?
It just felt like there was no point to the story. Maybe I’m not deep enough to get it 🤷🏼♀�
I’m not a fan of books like this but I know some people jizz themselves over these vague style books, I’m just not one of them. Maybe you are. I’m not judging.
This story was watery. It had no substance. It tried too hard. This whole book is vague. Like what even happened? Why was Leah on a submarine? Why did Miri just like accept her wife was becoming a sea creature? Why did I keep reading? What was the weird voice they heard in the submarine? What was the Centre? Was this supposed to be an allegory for letting go?
It just felt like there was no point to the story. Maybe I’m not deep enough to get it 🤷🏼♀�
I’m not a fan of books like this but I know some people jizz themselves over these vague style books, I’m just not one of them. Maybe you are. I’m not judging.
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
October 10, 2023
“I feel exhausted, a feeling of catching up, a feeling of something finding me. My heart is a thin thing, these days—shred of paper blown between the spaces in my ribs.�
I can’t think of a more perfect way to phrase how I felt after reading this beautiful novel, so I might as well borrow that exquisite passage from Julia Armfield. I grabbed this book on a whim, needing an audio book to make the time pass more quickly on my little hikes in the fields behind the house. I wished for an adequate distraction, but what I found was so much more. Our Wives Under the Sea is one of the most deeply moving books I’ve read this year (or ever, really!).
“The deep sea is a haunted house: a place in which things that ought not to exist move about in the darkness.�
The story begins when Miri’s wife, Leah, returns from a deep sea expedition that lasted months beyond the original plan. When she returns, it is clear that something is wrong. Miri can’t quite put her finger on it immediately, but as the story unfolds, the reader is taken on a journey to the sea floor as well as through the process of a relationship unraveling. ŷ labels this as a horror novel, and I think that is perhaps a bit misleading. Those that expect full-on horror will be disappointed. Those that run in the opposite direction from that genre likely won’t give this a well-deserved chance. Instead, this is a deeply unsettling, introspective novel. You could take the theme of this book for what it is on the surface - the repercussions of a submarine sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor without detection for weeks on end. The trauma that resulted from this accident. Or, the reader could look at this from the bigger picture. What would it be like to have your partner become so utterly changed that the ache of that drifting apart is so raw, bewildering and unbearable? I could see this working as a metaphor for a debilitating disease as well. This is more about what the partner of the afflicted goes through, rather than the affected person him or herself.
“I look at her and feel unusually sure that the Leah of the previous night was my Leah, but that this one almost certainly isn’t. If I cut her, I’m not altogether sure she would bleed. I feel, at once, a sense of cavernous terror at being left alone and then set it aside.�
A note about the structure of this book � it was brilliant and worked exceedingly well. The voice and chapters alternate between Miri and Leah. All of Leah’s chapters are from her expedition. In this way, the reader learns a little at a time about the misadventure beneath the sea. Miri’s chapters alternate between the present time with Leah’s return and reflections of the past when she first met her partner. Some of Miri’s thoughts are about the grief of having recently lost her mother. There are some ancillary characters that aren’t greatly fleshed out but they teach us even more about Miri and Leah in the way that they interact with these friends, family and coworkers. There are so many things that could have gone wrong with this structure but consider me enormously impressed!
I want to say so much more about this little book. It was an expansive reading experience but so hard to put into words. I felt on edge, knowing that something was not right and waiting to find out exactly what was wrong. I lived Miri’s fear and dreaded anticipation. My heart was in my mouth, and then it was ripped right out. Oh, and the marine biology bits that were scattered throughout were super cool! Nothing hard for a layman like myself to grasp. Julia Armfield did some legwork in that regards as well. It’s a love story minus the sappy romance. It’s a story of transformations, and it has made a huge impact on me.
“I used to think there was such a thing as emptiness, that there were places in the world one could go and be alone. This, I think, is still true, but the error in my reasoning was to assume that alone was somewhere you could go, rather than somewhere you had to be left.�
“� loving is something we all do alone and through different sets of eyes."
I can’t think of a more perfect way to phrase how I felt after reading this beautiful novel, so I might as well borrow that exquisite passage from Julia Armfield. I grabbed this book on a whim, needing an audio book to make the time pass more quickly on my little hikes in the fields behind the house. I wished for an adequate distraction, but what I found was so much more. Our Wives Under the Sea is one of the most deeply moving books I’ve read this year (or ever, really!).
“The deep sea is a haunted house: a place in which things that ought not to exist move about in the darkness.�
The story begins when Miri’s wife, Leah, returns from a deep sea expedition that lasted months beyond the original plan. When she returns, it is clear that something is wrong. Miri can’t quite put her finger on it immediately, but as the story unfolds, the reader is taken on a journey to the sea floor as well as through the process of a relationship unraveling. ŷ labels this as a horror novel, and I think that is perhaps a bit misleading. Those that expect full-on horror will be disappointed. Those that run in the opposite direction from that genre likely won’t give this a well-deserved chance. Instead, this is a deeply unsettling, introspective novel. You could take the theme of this book for what it is on the surface - the repercussions of a submarine sunk to the bottom of the ocean floor without detection for weeks on end. The trauma that resulted from this accident. Or, the reader could look at this from the bigger picture. What would it be like to have your partner become so utterly changed that the ache of that drifting apart is so raw, bewildering and unbearable? I could see this working as a metaphor for a debilitating disease as well. This is more about what the partner of the afflicted goes through, rather than the affected person him or herself.
“I look at her and feel unusually sure that the Leah of the previous night was my Leah, but that this one almost certainly isn’t. If I cut her, I’m not altogether sure she would bleed. I feel, at once, a sense of cavernous terror at being left alone and then set it aside.�
A note about the structure of this book � it was brilliant and worked exceedingly well. The voice and chapters alternate between Miri and Leah. All of Leah’s chapters are from her expedition. In this way, the reader learns a little at a time about the misadventure beneath the sea. Miri’s chapters alternate between the present time with Leah’s return and reflections of the past when she first met her partner. Some of Miri’s thoughts are about the grief of having recently lost her mother. There are some ancillary characters that aren’t greatly fleshed out but they teach us even more about Miri and Leah in the way that they interact with these friends, family and coworkers. There are so many things that could have gone wrong with this structure but consider me enormously impressed!
I want to say so much more about this little book. It was an expansive reading experience but so hard to put into words. I felt on edge, knowing that something was not right and waiting to find out exactly what was wrong. I lived Miri’s fear and dreaded anticipation. My heart was in my mouth, and then it was ripped right out. Oh, and the marine biology bits that were scattered throughout were super cool! Nothing hard for a layman like myself to grasp. Julia Armfield did some legwork in that regards as well. It’s a love story minus the sappy romance. It’s a story of transformations, and it has made a huge impact on me.
“I used to think there was such a thing as emptiness, that there were places in the world one could go and be alone. This, I think, is still true, but the error in my reasoning was to assume that alone was somewhere you could go, rather than somewhere you had to be left.�
“� loving is something we all do alone and through different sets of eyes."
May 11, 2022
Sapphic Annihilation and/or Arrival under the sea. Through alternating timelines the author deals with trauma and its aftermath, but I found the conclusion a bit unsatisfying
It was very easy to offend my mother, rather in a way it is very easy to kill and orchid, it often seemed little short of inevitable
alternates between two perspectives: Miri in a current timeline and Leah, her wife, during the undersea expedition gone wrong.
Miri her tale focusses on trauma (Living means relinquishing the death), closeness with a partner, loneliness, fear of mental disease and an overall battle with unseen, bureaucratic forces. Despite the wittiness and sharp observations in these sections I felt a bit unmoved overall, with Miri being very passive despite the disturbing things happening with Leah.
The observations Miri makes speak of a keen observer, so it is rather a shame she turns out to be less of an actor overal:
Carmen typically speaks about him the way one might refer to a degree, a three year period one has to enjoy for one to talk with overbearing authority on exactly one subject.
She is the world’s living expert on loving and losing thirty year old men named Tom.
In her quest for understanding, she visits message boards for fictitious husbands lost in space, while her own wife starts to feel more and more fictional as well:
If I cut her, I am not sure she would bleed
Catholicism has an important role in Leah her story, a claustrophobic tale that for me really breathed with an expedition gone awry and forces ill understood. Also crossed my mind.
These sections would work so wel as a movie, I don’t know how to tell you this, really one of the main characters says, and that is kind of a problem with these sections of the book in general. It just feels to me that the story that tells would work better in a different medium.
Also the narrative voice is a bit too similar in the two alternating segments.
Still an intriguing book and tender and fun at times as well: You are the kindest person I know, and I know 6 or 7 people.
It was very easy to offend my mother, rather in a way it is very easy to kill and orchid, it often seemed little short of inevitable
alternates between two perspectives: Miri in a current timeline and Leah, her wife, during the undersea expedition gone wrong.
Miri her tale focusses on trauma (Living means relinquishing the death), closeness with a partner, loneliness, fear of mental disease and an overall battle with unseen, bureaucratic forces. Despite the wittiness and sharp observations in these sections I felt a bit unmoved overall, with Miri being very passive despite the disturbing things happening with Leah.
The observations Miri makes speak of a keen observer, so it is rather a shame she turns out to be less of an actor overal:
Carmen typically speaks about him the way one might refer to a degree, a three year period one has to enjoy for one to talk with overbearing authority on exactly one subject.
She is the world’s living expert on loving and losing thirty year old men named Tom.
In her quest for understanding, she visits message boards for fictitious husbands lost in space, while her own wife starts to feel more and more fictional as well:
If I cut her, I am not sure she would bleed
Catholicism has an important role in Leah her story, a claustrophobic tale that for me really breathed with an expedition gone awry and forces ill understood. Also crossed my mind.
These sections would work so wel as a movie, I don’t know how to tell you this, really one of the main characters says, and that is kind of a problem with these sections of the book in general. It just feels to me that the story that tells would work better in a different medium.
Also the narrative voice is a bit too similar in the two alternating segments.
Still an intriguing book and tender and fun at times as well: You are the kindest person I know, and I know 6 or 7 people.
July 30, 2022
"Our Wives Under the Sea" by Julia Armfield is a story about love, grief, and loss!
Miri's marine biologist wife, Leah, is finally coming home after six months at sea. A submariner exploratory mission that should have taken three weeks, ends in a mysterious disaster without meaningful communication from the 'Centre' for months. Miri still has questions that remain unanswered by Leah's employer.
Miri and Leah live together in the same flat but in different spaces now. Miri eats alone in the kitchen and sleeps alone in the spare bedroom. Leah spends a great deal of time locked in the bathroom running water from both taps. She doesn't eat but craves copious amounts of salted water.
Miri notices the differences in Leah. She sees Leah doing these alarmingly odd things and how her body is physically changing. Leah seems to be fading away. Is Miri different now, too?
I will say, and I'm sure about this, I have not ever read anything quite like this book before. It's beautifully written, oddly slow, a bit repetitive, thoughtful, and deeply sad. It's the kind of book that causes you to dig deep within and continue to think about it for a long time afterwards.
The alternating chapters tell the story via the first-person voices of both Miri and Leah. The story travels back into the memories of their relationship, with snippets of what happens under the sea, mingled with the current timeline once Leah is back home.
I read the digital copy and listened to the audiobook choosing to switch back and forth between the two short formats. The audiobook has two narrators, Annabel Baldwin & Robyn Holdaway, who give a unique voice to each of the main characters. I believe this is what gives listening a more emotional experience. With the digital copy, the visual experience of reading the printed word is an experience I will always find comforting!
I enjoy reading books that are different and this creative and beautifully written debut novel hits that mark for me. It's a story that I continue to think about and dissect over and over again. Like Leah, it keeps changing. It's that kind of story for me. I highly recommend!
Thank you to NetGalley, Flatiron Books, Dreamscape Media and Julia Armfield for a free ARC and ALC of this book. It has been an honor to give my honest and voluntary review.
Miri's marine biologist wife, Leah, is finally coming home after six months at sea. A submariner exploratory mission that should have taken three weeks, ends in a mysterious disaster without meaningful communication from the 'Centre' for months. Miri still has questions that remain unanswered by Leah's employer.
Miri and Leah live together in the same flat but in different spaces now. Miri eats alone in the kitchen and sleeps alone in the spare bedroom. Leah spends a great deal of time locked in the bathroom running water from both taps. She doesn't eat but craves copious amounts of salted water.
Miri notices the differences in Leah. She sees Leah doing these alarmingly odd things and how her body is physically changing. Leah seems to be fading away. Is Miri different now, too?
I will say, and I'm sure about this, I have not ever read anything quite like this book before. It's beautifully written, oddly slow, a bit repetitive, thoughtful, and deeply sad. It's the kind of book that causes you to dig deep within and continue to think about it for a long time afterwards.
The alternating chapters tell the story via the first-person voices of both Miri and Leah. The story travels back into the memories of their relationship, with snippets of what happens under the sea, mingled with the current timeline once Leah is back home.
I read the digital copy and listened to the audiobook choosing to switch back and forth between the two short formats. The audiobook has two narrators, Annabel Baldwin & Robyn Holdaway, who give a unique voice to each of the main characters. I believe this is what gives listening a more emotional experience. With the digital copy, the visual experience of reading the printed word is an experience I will always find comforting!
I enjoy reading books that are different and this creative and beautifully written debut novel hits that mark for me. It's a story that I continue to think about and dissect over and over again. Like Leah, it keeps changing. It's that kind of story for me. I highly recommend!
Thank you to NetGalley, Flatiron Books, Dreamscape Media and Julia Armfield for a free ARC and ALC of this book. It has been an honor to give my honest and voluntary review.
March 17, 2023
**Many thanks to NetGalley, Flatiron, and Julia Armfield for an ARC of this book! Now available as of 7.12!**
That's where I belong
And you belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea - Coldplay
Strange and lyrical, confusing and haunting, this is an interesting look at love, loss, and unexplained change with a bit of Guillermo Del Toro's tossed in for good measure!
Leah and Miri are in love, but circumstances have thrown a wrench into their relationship. Leah is an underwater explorer, and her last expedition via submarine working as an employee for the Centre went terribly wrong. She was gone for a whopping SIX months. When she returns, Miri notices stark and alarming changes...Leah constantly runs taps in the house. and has a need for salt water in and around her. Blood leaks from her gums, and her skin takes on an odd sheen. The divide between these two women widens, and although Miri searches on her own for more information on what REALLY transpired during this unusual expedition, she feels the woman she once loved fading away, possibly becoming something else entirely. Is it possible for Miri to reclaim what she once had...or has Leah given her mind, body, and soul irrevocably to the sea?
This is an interesting book on a number of levels. It's a bit of a genre bender, with the obvious romance, a heavy dose of sci-fi/horror, and some drama and even non-fiction-esque writing about oceans thrown in. I figured this would be a quick read due to the page count, but it did take me a little bit longer than I'd guessed to get through it. At first, I was caught up in Armfield's lovely prose, which was haunting and eerie, and figured that would carry me through till the end.
However, as the book wore on, all of the strange happenings to Leah were sort of reiterated over and over to the point where it felt unnecessary to keep mentioning them. We get that she constantly needs the salt water...but WHY? After a while, in this sort of book, you want some sort of answers, but this book is more like one long unexplained mystery. The writing is strong and held my attention for quite a while and I thought I was going to rate this one higher than I decided I could by the end...but basically, I just wanted MORE!
We got so many glimpses into Leah and Miri's past relationship, Leah's time trapped on the sub with her colleagues, and of course their current situation, but nothing CONCRETE. I don't want to say too much as to not spoil potential theories, but although this story is beautiful crafted in many respects and evocative, there was so much room for expansion. Which of course makes sense, given the length of the book...but based on the content that WAS there, I tend to think the author probably would have cycled back over some of her themes and ideas without truly going the extra mile to make everything come together in a cohesive way if the book had been longer.
While this book does vary dramatically from del Toro's Shape of Water in certain respects, I do think fans of that book would connect to this one, and I will be looking for Armfield's next work. I hope that NEXT time, however, the answers and conclusions I'm seeking won't feel so much like buried treasure, lost at sea.
3.5 stars
Nominated in the ŷ Choice Awards for Best Horror!
That's where I belong
And you belong with me
Not swallowed in the sea - Coldplay
Strange and lyrical, confusing and haunting, this is an interesting look at love, loss, and unexplained change with a bit of Guillermo Del Toro's tossed in for good measure!
Leah and Miri are in love, but circumstances have thrown a wrench into their relationship. Leah is an underwater explorer, and her last expedition via submarine working as an employee for the Centre went terribly wrong. She was gone for a whopping SIX months. When she returns, Miri notices stark and alarming changes...Leah constantly runs taps in the house. and has a need for salt water in and around her. Blood leaks from her gums, and her skin takes on an odd sheen. The divide between these two women widens, and although Miri searches on her own for more information on what REALLY transpired during this unusual expedition, she feels the woman she once loved fading away, possibly becoming something else entirely. Is it possible for Miri to reclaim what she once had...or has Leah given her mind, body, and soul irrevocably to the sea?
This is an interesting book on a number of levels. It's a bit of a genre bender, with the obvious romance, a heavy dose of sci-fi/horror, and some drama and even non-fiction-esque writing about oceans thrown in. I figured this would be a quick read due to the page count, but it did take me a little bit longer than I'd guessed to get through it. At first, I was caught up in Armfield's lovely prose, which was haunting and eerie, and figured that would carry me through till the end.
However, as the book wore on, all of the strange happenings to Leah were sort of reiterated over and over to the point where it felt unnecessary to keep mentioning them. We get that she constantly needs the salt water...but WHY? After a while, in this sort of book, you want some sort of answers, but this book is more like one long unexplained mystery. The writing is strong and held my attention for quite a while and I thought I was going to rate this one higher than I decided I could by the end...but basically, I just wanted MORE!
We got so many glimpses into Leah and Miri's past relationship, Leah's time trapped on the sub with her colleagues, and of course their current situation, but nothing CONCRETE. I don't want to say too much as to not spoil potential theories, but although this story is beautiful crafted in many respects and evocative, there was so much room for expansion. Which of course makes sense, given the length of the book...but based on the content that WAS there, I tend to think the author probably would have cycled back over some of her themes and ideas without truly going the extra mile to make everything come together in a cohesive way if the book had been longer.
While this book does vary dramatically from del Toro's Shape of Water in certain respects, I do think fans of that book would connect to this one, and I will be looking for Armfield's next work. I hope that NEXT time, however, the answers and conclusions I'm seeking won't feel so much like buried treasure, lost at sea.
3.5 stars
Nominated in the ŷ Choice Awards for Best Horror!
September 24, 2022
I had high hopes for this book because of the sapphic main characters! Sadly I was extremely disappointed by this book. It was not interesting, the characters were not developed well, and the plot was bad!
This is about a married lesbian couple in which one of them, Leah, comes back from a deep sea mission as a completely changed person. Miri has no idea what happened when Leah was down in the depths of the ocean and is seeking to find out what happened.
I have so many issues with this book. Let's start off with what bothered me most, the short chapters and POV changes. I like short chapters but it didn't work with this story. I often found myself getting interested in one character's POV and then all of a sudden the narrative changes, as well as the time and location. My brain broke while trying to read this book because it would be 2 pages of Miri's POV from the past, then 2 pages of Leah's POV in the past, then 2 pages of Miri's POV in the present. How am I supposed to get invested in these characters if the narrative is constantly flip flopping!
My second gripe is the pacing of this book. I understand trying to make the reader hooked to keep reading but you have to put some bait on the hook first. I desperately wanted more of Leah's POV throughout this story, but her chapters were SO short and never elaborated on anything important to the plot. One of her chapters was 2 ebook pages and 1 page she spends just talking about her crew mate. Like, I don't care about him!!! I want to know what happened to you down there!!
My last gripe, the ending of this book. What?????? The ending literally didn't explain ANYTHING about what happened to Leah on her deep dive mission. It was so vague and uninteresting.
I really wanted to like this book because I am CRAVING for some good sapphic rep, but this wasn't it. Miri and Leah each had their toxic moments and it was extremely unpleasant to read about.
This is about a married lesbian couple in which one of them, Leah, comes back from a deep sea mission as a completely changed person. Miri has no idea what happened when Leah was down in the depths of the ocean and is seeking to find out what happened.
I have so many issues with this book. Let's start off with what bothered me most, the short chapters and POV changes. I like short chapters but it didn't work with this story. I often found myself getting interested in one character's POV and then all of a sudden the narrative changes, as well as the time and location. My brain broke while trying to read this book because it would be 2 pages of Miri's POV from the past, then 2 pages of Leah's POV in the past, then 2 pages of Miri's POV in the present. How am I supposed to get invested in these characters if the narrative is constantly flip flopping!
My second gripe is the pacing of this book. I understand trying to make the reader hooked to keep reading but you have to put some bait on the hook first. I desperately wanted more of Leah's POV throughout this story, but her chapters were SO short and never elaborated on anything important to the plot. One of her chapters was 2 ebook pages and 1 page she spends just talking about her crew mate. Like, I don't care about him!!! I want to know what happened to you down there!!
My last gripe, the ending of this book. What?????? The ending literally didn't explain ANYTHING about what happened to Leah on her deep dive mission. It was so vague and uninteresting.
I really wanted to like this book because I am CRAVING for some good sapphic rep, but this wasn't it. Miri and Leah each had their toxic moments and it was extremely unpleasant to read about.
December 27, 2024
Niby podmorskie, a głębi jakoś brak.
January 16, 2022
This was like being stuck in the corner at a party and monopolized by somebody whose only topic of conversation is their partner.
August 5, 2024
*Forgot to update my rating upon my re-read at the end of last year, and will keep my initial thoughts in my OG review below, but this was beautiful and with the right expectations I think you’ll love it as much as I ended up loving it.*
Our Wives Under The Sea is a relationship drama with some very minor body horror and creepy horror elements sprinkled throughout. I loved reading about the relationship between Leah and Miri, it was so deeply moving and touching and complicated that they felt like real people, or like I was watching a movie and seeing it all play out. Despite my lower rating, I thought the writing was beautiful, and I want to reread the book with a physical copy so that I can underline my heart out.
As touching and as beautiful and sad as I thought it was, in the end, I was very underwhelmed unfortunately. I just thought this was going to be more horror than it was. This is because I have seen this on *countless* horror recommendation lists: queer horror, body horror, of course ocean horror etc, but this is very much literary fiction with some magical realism. I had a similar feeling while reading Lakewood by Megan Giddings because I just wanted *more*. I wanted more backstory about The Center, more explanation/time spent with the ending (no spoilers here lol), and just more horror elements because that’s what I thought this was. For a book that, for half of the read, took place in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean, it didn’t feel like it AT ALL. I had no sense of the environment or the vessel, and so unfortunately felt absolutely no tension or suspense.
I think my biggest thing is that this *could* have been one of my favorite books of the year had my expectations been geared towards the literary relationship drama that this really was. I’m not going so far as to say that I’ve been lied to or “did I read the same book as everyone else rah rah rah�, but yeah I’m just a bit disappointed. This definitely *could* have been terrifying, but the submarine bits were written in a surreal, almost abstract, fever dreamish way and it just fell so very flat for me. It felt like things were presented in a like �*meh* here go do with this what you will idrc🤷♂️� sorta way that I’ve encountered in some literary driven books before.
The ending also annoyed me. It’s written from the POV of Miri on the surface both before and after Leah’s departure, and from Leah’s under the sea, and we were building and building towards *something* that finally happened to them under there. But, at the end when it finally happens, it’s over and done with in a matter of seconds. Almost like an afterthought. Which was probably the point because again this wasn’t trying to be scary, and that’s where I’m gonna stop this because I feel like I’m rambling here 😂
Overall I definitely recommend it, I just wish my expectations were geared more towards the literary relationship drama that this really was.
(Note, I rate books based on how much I personally enjoy them, not on the craft/work/writing or whatever. This, just like every review, is an opinion, and if you think mine is wrong please just scroll and not argue 😅))
Our Wives Under The Sea is a relationship drama with some very minor body horror and creepy horror elements sprinkled throughout. I loved reading about the relationship between Leah and Miri, it was so deeply moving and touching and complicated that they felt like real people, or like I was watching a movie and seeing it all play out. Despite my lower rating, I thought the writing was beautiful, and I want to reread the book with a physical copy so that I can underline my heart out.
As touching and as beautiful and sad as I thought it was, in the end, I was very underwhelmed unfortunately. I just thought this was going to be more horror than it was. This is because I have seen this on *countless* horror recommendation lists: queer horror, body horror, of course ocean horror etc, but this is very much literary fiction with some magical realism. I had a similar feeling while reading Lakewood by Megan Giddings because I just wanted *more*. I wanted more backstory about The Center, more explanation/time spent with the ending (no spoilers here lol), and just more horror elements because that’s what I thought this was. For a book that, for half of the read, took place in a submarine at the bottom of the ocean, it didn’t feel like it AT ALL. I had no sense of the environment or the vessel, and so unfortunately felt absolutely no tension or suspense.
I think my biggest thing is that this *could* have been one of my favorite books of the year had my expectations been geared towards the literary relationship drama that this really was. I’m not going so far as to say that I’ve been lied to or “did I read the same book as everyone else rah rah rah�, but yeah I’m just a bit disappointed. This definitely *could* have been terrifying, but the submarine bits were written in a surreal, almost abstract, fever dreamish way and it just fell so very flat for me. It felt like things were presented in a like �*meh* here go do with this what you will idrc🤷♂️� sorta way that I’ve encountered in some literary driven books before.
The ending also annoyed me. It’s written from the POV of Miri on the surface both before and after Leah’s departure, and from Leah’s under the sea, and we were building and building towards *something* that finally happened to them under there. But, at the end when it finally happens, it’s over and done with in a matter of seconds. Almost like an afterthought. Which was probably the point because again this wasn’t trying to be scary, and that’s where I’m gonna stop this because I feel like I’m rambling here 😂
Overall I definitely recommend it, I just wish my expectations were geared more towards the literary relationship drama that this really was.
(Note, I rate books based on how much I personally enjoy them, not on the craft/work/writing or whatever. This, just like every review, is an opinion, and if you think mine is wrong please just scroll and not argue 😅))
July 14, 2022
2.5 stars
I really thought I would love this book; it simply didn't occur to me that I wouldn't. Julia Armfield's debut, Salt Slow, is one of my favourite short story collections ever; the inimitable SARAH WATERS blurbed this novel; every author who I've seen talk about this novel online has given it nothing less than a stellar review--all signs pointed to my loving this. And yet, quite frankly, I just didn't.
Our Wives Under the Sea was, for me, the kind of novel that you forget about the second you finish it--honestly, the kind of novel you forget about as you're reading it. The biggest issue with this book is that its story doesn't have any meat, nothing to really sink your teeth into. You're given descriptions and vague impressions and feelings and moments and snippets of memory, but none of this ever feels like it's attached to anything solid, to any kind of substantial foundation. The result is that the novel feels like a collection of disparate parts rather than a cohesive whole, a bunch of jumbled elements that never really coalesce into anything that feels like a proper narrative. (Luce's review sums up my feelings perfectly.)
More than making the story forgettable, this lack of substance also makes Our Wives Under the Sea so hard to get through. This is a very short novel, and yet it felt like such a drag to read. There's no sense of momentum, here, nothing to make you want to keep reading. The novel is split into two timelines, and rather than becoming more complex or interesting as you go on, they just end up stagnating. Bad things happen, and then bad things keep happening, and then the characters keep thinking about how bad things are, and none of this feels particularly compelling because it's all so samey.
(I also didn't really like all the science-y facts about the ocean and aquatic life; they felt clunky, like they were included only because Armfield did the research and wanted to put them somewhere in the novel.)
I know a novel is a favourite of mine when I can look back on reading it and distinctly remember all of its best moments: the moments that moved me, the moments that surprised me, the moments that made me think. Our Wives Under the Sea is not a novel you can distinctly remember anything about because nothing in this novel ever feels distinct in any way. It all goes by in a blur, and then you're just left with a sense of nothingness that doesn't go anywhere.
Thanks so much to Picador for providing me with an e-ARC of this via Netgalley!
I really thought I would love this book; it simply didn't occur to me that I wouldn't. Julia Armfield's debut, Salt Slow, is one of my favourite short story collections ever; the inimitable SARAH WATERS blurbed this novel; every author who I've seen talk about this novel online has given it nothing less than a stellar review--all signs pointed to my loving this. And yet, quite frankly, I just didn't.
Our Wives Under the Sea was, for me, the kind of novel that you forget about the second you finish it--honestly, the kind of novel you forget about as you're reading it. The biggest issue with this book is that its story doesn't have any meat, nothing to really sink your teeth into. You're given descriptions and vague impressions and feelings and moments and snippets of memory, but none of this ever feels like it's attached to anything solid, to any kind of substantial foundation. The result is that the novel feels like a collection of disparate parts rather than a cohesive whole, a bunch of jumbled elements that never really coalesce into anything that feels like a proper narrative. (Luce's review sums up my feelings perfectly.)
More than making the story forgettable, this lack of substance also makes Our Wives Under the Sea so hard to get through. This is a very short novel, and yet it felt like such a drag to read. There's no sense of momentum, here, nothing to make you want to keep reading. The novel is split into two timelines, and rather than becoming more complex or interesting as you go on, they just end up stagnating. Bad things happen, and then bad things keep happening, and then the characters keep thinking about how bad things are, and none of this feels particularly compelling because it's all so samey.
(I also didn't really like all the science-y facts about the ocean and aquatic life; they felt clunky, like they were included only because Armfield did the research and wanted to put them somewhere in the novel.)
I know a novel is a favourite of mine when I can look back on reading it and distinctly remember all of its best moments: the moments that moved me, the moments that surprised me, the moments that made me think. Our Wives Under the Sea is not a novel you can distinctly remember anything about because nothing in this novel ever feels distinct in any way. It all goes by in a blur, and then you're just left with a sense of nothingness that doesn't go anywhere.
Thanks so much to Picador for providing me with an e-ARC of this via Netgalley!
July 9, 2022
If my wife ever tells me she’s going on a deep sea mission I will be running away.
TWs:
Graphic: Body Horror, Confinement
Moderate: Death (including: parent), Grief, Terminal Illness, Disordered Eating, Psychosis
Mild/Mention: Animal Death, Fatphobia, Homophobia, Misogyny
TWs:
Graphic: Body Horror, Confinement
Moderate: Death (including: parent), Grief, Terminal Illness, Disordered Eating, Psychosis
Mild/Mention: Animal Death, Fatphobia, Homophobia, Misogyny
December 31, 2022
Finished this at three a.m., wishing I had a nightlight. Elegant, literary, eerie horror.
April 2, 2022
no one: how many water/sea metaphors can we cram into one book?
julia armfield: yes
julia armfield: yes
Displaying 1 - 30 of 20,897 reviews
Can't find what you're looking for?
Get help and learn more about the design.