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Haweswater
The village of Marsdale is a quiet corner of the world, cradled in a remote dale in England's lovely Lake District. The rhythm of life in the deeply religious, sheltered community has not changed for centuries. But in 1936, when Waterworks representative Jack Ligget from industrial Manchester arrives with plans to build a new reservoir, he brings the much feared threat of impending change to this bucolic hamlet. And when he begins an intense and troubled affair with Janet Lightburn—a devout local woman of rare passion and strength of spirit—it can only lead to scandal, tragedy, and remarkable, desperate acts.
From Sarah Hall, the internationally acclaimed author of the Man Booker Prize finalist The Electric Michelangelo, comes a stunning and transcendent novel of love, obsession, and the passing of an age.
From Sarah Hall, the internationally acclaimed author of the Man Booker Prize finalist The Electric Michelangelo, comes a stunning and transcendent novel of love, obsession, and the passing of an age.
267 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2002
31 people are currently reading
887 people want to read
About the author
Sarah Hall
57books591followersLibrarian Note: There is more than one author in the ŷ database with this name.
Sarah Hall took a degree in English and Art History at Aberystwyth University, and began to take writing seriously from the age of twenty, first as a poet, several of her poems appearing in poetry magazines, then as a fiction-writer. She took an M Litt in Creative Writing at St Andrew's University and stayed on for a year afterwards to teach on the undergraduate Creative Writing programme.
Her first novel, Haweswater, was published in 2002. It is set in the 1930s, focuses on one family - the Lightburns - and is a rural tragedy about the disintegration of a community of Cumbrian hill-framers, due to the building of a reservoir. It won several awards, including the 2003 Commonwealth Writers Prize (Overall Winner, Best First Book).
Sarah Hall currently lives in North Carolina. Her second book, The Electric Michelangelo (2004), set in the turn-of-the-century seaside resorts of Morecambe Bay and Coney Island, was shortlisted for the 2004 Man Booker Prize for Fiction and the 2005 Commonwealth Writers Prize (Eurasia Region, Best Book).
The Carhullan Army (2007), won the 2007 John Llewellyn-Rhys Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for the 2008 Arthur C Clarke Award for Best Science Fiction.
Her latest novel is How to Paint a Dead Man (2009).
Sarah Hall took a degree in English and Art History at Aberystwyth University, and began to take writing seriously from the age of twenty, first as a poet, several of her poems appearing in poetry magazines, then as a fiction-writer. She took an M Litt in Creative Writing at St Andrew's University and stayed on for a year afterwards to teach on the undergraduate Creative Writing programme.
Her first novel, Haweswater, was published in 2002. It is set in the 1930s, focuses on one family - the Lightburns - and is a rural tragedy about the disintegration of a community of Cumbrian hill-framers, due to the building of a reservoir. It won several awards, including the 2003 Commonwealth Writers Prize (Overall Winner, Best First Book).
Sarah Hall currently lives in North Carolina. Her second book, The Electric Michelangelo (2004), set in the turn-of-the-century seaside resorts of Morecambe Bay and Coney Island, was shortlisted for the 2004 Man Booker Prize for Fiction and the 2005 Commonwealth Writers Prize (Eurasia Region, Best Book).
The Carhullan Army (2007), won the 2007 John Llewellyn-Rhys Memorial Prize and was shortlisted for the 2008 Arthur C Clarke Award for Best Science Fiction.
Her latest novel is How to Paint a Dead Man (2009).
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 142 reviews
September 16, 2008
Ok, I selected this from our stacks because it was of reasonable length, and I figured that if it was good, I could blast through two others of hers that we have on hand. BUT, I wondered what the hell I was reading in short order. There is payload about the small, isolated, Lake District community, Mardale, in which the action is set. The story has to do with the Manchester Waterworks coming to town and telling folks sorry, but we will be filling up your lovely valley and village. A dam is planned. The messenger is the suave, somewhat mysterious Jack Liggett, who has a knack, and seems determined to get the town to agree with the rationale for the project. He seems to want to be liked. Then there is Janet Lightburn, the strong, intelligent and feisty daughter of Sam and Ella. Is this a serious novel or a silly romance? 200 pages in, I felt no real desire to read anything more by this author. By the end of the book, I was a little more open to the possibility.
There is some very nice writing in here, to be sure, and we do learn something about the area and the times (depression). She does a lot with water, the image of which pervades the book in various forms. And her nature writing is quite lovely. I was troubled by the jarring shift in character applied to Janet, the very strong leading lady, who, after a very dire event, completely loses it. Her final swipe at the project seemed rather pathetic. And I wanted for much more to be done with her brother, Isaac. He was intriguing while on stage, but was never explained or given much depth. What happens with him also seemed inexplicable. I suppose one can forgive such in a first novel. Does Hall improve enough with subsequent works to be granted a second chance? That feeling of bodice-ripping lingers.
Why was it that the lovemaking between Jack and Janet was always violent, leaving one or both bruised or bleeding every time?
The eagle Jack has killed was intended to be an affront to the uppers among whom he swims, but when it is brought to him, he feels shame for what he has done. This echoes his mixed feelings at killing Marden. He dies trying to make some amends for this sin.
Why must the strong, strong, strong Janet fall to pieces at the end?
There is some very nice writing in here, to be sure, and we do learn something about the area and the times (depression). She does a lot with water, the image of which pervades the book in various forms. And her nature writing is quite lovely. I was troubled by the jarring shift in character applied to Janet, the very strong leading lady, who, after a very dire event, completely loses it. Her final swipe at the project seemed rather pathetic. And I wanted for much more to be done with her brother, Isaac. He was intriguing while on stage, but was never explained or given much depth. What happens with him also seemed inexplicable. I suppose one can forgive such in a first novel. Does Hall improve enough with subsequent works to be granted a second chance? That feeling of bodice-ripping lingers.
Why was it that the lovemaking between Jack and Janet was always violent, leaving one or both bruised or bleeding every time?
The eagle Jack has killed was intended to be an affront to the uppers among whom he swims, but when it is brought to him, he feels shame for what he has done. This echoes his mixed feelings at killing Marden. He dies trying to make some amends for this sin.
Why must the strong, strong, strong Janet fall to pieces at the end?
This entire review has been hidden because of spoilers.
November 16, 2014
This is the third book I have read by Sarah Hall, and I have to say she is an amazingly gifted writer. I loved and approached Haweswater with eager anticipation. It did not disappoint.
Haweswater tells the story of the quaint English farming village of Marsdale which in 1936 is due to be flooded through the creation of the Haweswater dam and reservoir, to be sacrificed for the greater good. Jack Ligget is a Waterworks representative who arrives to apprise the village residents of the plan, an objective outsider who finds the village and its people having an unexpected and transformative effect on him.
This is also the story of the Lightburn family; father Samuel, mother Ella, young son Isaac, forever drawn to the water, and daughter Janet, a passionate and strong-willed young woman who faces Jack Ligget head-on.
This book is ultimately about transformation in its various forms and lays bare the human experience without reservation. Love and hatred, lust and anger, grief and redemption are offered up for the reader to take into themselves, to feel and absorb. Through vivid and beautiful language this author creates settings and characters which draw the reader in as one of them. This is a book that will stay with me for a long time.
Haweswater tells the story of the quaint English farming village of Marsdale which in 1936 is due to be flooded through the creation of the Haweswater dam and reservoir, to be sacrificed for the greater good. Jack Ligget is a Waterworks representative who arrives to apprise the village residents of the plan, an objective outsider who finds the village and its people having an unexpected and transformative effect on him.
This is also the story of the Lightburn family; father Samuel, mother Ella, young son Isaac, forever drawn to the water, and daughter Janet, a passionate and strong-willed young woman who faces Jack Ligget head-on.
This book is ultimately about transformation in its various forms and lays bare the human experience without reservation. Love and hatred, lust and anger, grief and redemption are offered up for the reader to take into themselves, to feel and absorb. Through vivid and beautiful language this author creates settings and characters which draw the reader in as one of them. This is a book that will stay with me for a long time.
September 21, 2022
I recently read, and was somewhat blown away by, Sarah Hall's most recent novel "Burntcoat". Having not read this author before I decided to explore her back catalogue and requested "Haweswater" from the library.
This novel follows the demise of the small, religious and largely unchanged village of Marsdale in England's Lake District. In the 1930s the village and its's surroundings are submerged for a new reservoir to feed the growing Manchester. This event brings together Jack Ligget, the Waterworks representative and Janet Lightburn, a local woman. The characters and events within the novel are fiction woven around fact as Haweswater is a real reservoir in the valley of Mardale, in the Lake District. The natural lake was controversially dammed by the Manchester Corporation having gained permission via a Private Act of Parliament.
In the following pages so many themes are explored around this relationship, the Lakes, the village way of life and its inhabitants. This is a beautifully written novel that captures the times and the landscape superbly.
"It began to rain, a fat slapping rain that ringed in the water and leapt up out of it. The air became blue with its speed. Rain hissed like soft glass coming from the sky. A cough of distant thunder in the throat of the hills to the north-east. The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a flat cloth cap ..."
This novel follows the demise of the small, religious and largely unchanged village of Marsdale in England's Lake District. In the 1930s the village and its's surroundings are submerged for a new reservoir to feed the growing Manchester. This event brings together Jack Ligget, the Waterworks representative and Janet Lightburn, a local woman. The characters and events within the novel are fiction woven around fact as Haweswater is a real reservoir in the valley of Mardale, in the Lake District. The natural lake was controversially dammed by the Manchester Corporation having gained permission via a Private Act of Parliament.
In the following pages so many themes are explored around this relationship, the Lakes, the village way of life and its inhabitants. This is a beautifully written novel that captures the times and the landscape superbly.
"It began to rain, a fat slapping rain that ringed in the water and leapt up out of it. The air became blue with its speed. Rain hissed like soft glass coming from the sky. A cough of distant thunder in the throat of the hills to the north-east. The man reached into his pocket, pulled out a flat cloth cap ..."
March 19, 2020
Wow. W jakiś sposób duch Wichrowych Wzgórz unosi się nad tą powieścią.
Ciemna, namiętna, przesiąknięta smutkiem jak wszechobecną w tej historii wodą, symboliczna opowieść, z niesamowitym klimatem stworzonym przez obłędne opisy przyrody. Z postaciami, których portretów nie da się zapomnieć. Właściwie nie zaskakująca żadnym z tragicznych wydarzeń, bo od pierwszych zdań wiemy, ku czemu to wszystko zmierza. Ale fabuła (jak i jej alegoryczne przesłanie) zrobiły na mnie mniejsze wrażenie, niż sam styl.
Jestem zachwycona twórczością Hall (jej opowiadania były jednak zupełnie inne; to zaskakujące, że jedna autorka potrafi pisać na tak różne sposoby).
Ciemna, namiętna, przesiąknięta smutkiem jak wszechobecną w tej historii wodą, symboliczna opowieść, z niesamowitym klimatem stworzonym przez obłędne opisy przyrody. Z postaciami, których portretów nie da się zapomnieć. Właściwie nie zaskakująca żadnym z tragicznych wydarzeń, bo od pierwszych zdań wiemy, ku czemu to wszystko zmierza. Ale fabuła (jak i jej alegoryczne przesłanie) zrobiły na mnie mniejsze wrażenie, niż sam styl.
Jestem zachwycona twórczością Hall (jej opowiadania były jednak zupełnie inne; to zaskakujące, że jedna autorka potrafi pisać na tak różne sposoby).
July 13, 2008
There is always a danger when you have such high hopes for a book. 'The Electric Michelangelo' was one of my favourite reads of 2004 and I quickly sought out Hall's previous novel. 'Haweswater' has been waiting on my shelves since as I was worried it might not live up to my hope.
It did. And possibly exceeded them. This is straight up there as one of the best reads of this year. I'm not a great one for The Classics but this has the classic weight and tone that I do respect (like it says on the cover, it is very Lawrence). Its visionary whilst always staying grounded. People and places are weaved from vital sentences.
Its a great story (I knew a little about the idea of drowned villages but this has brought the idea to life), exciting, interesting and profoundly moving. Hall manages to keep herself firmly within the characters minds and hearts never straying out into the territory of rights or politics.
It did. And possibly exceeded them. This is straight up there as one of the best reads of this year. I'm not a great one for The Classics but this has the classic weight and tone that I do respect (like it says on the cover, it is very Lawrence). Its visionary whilst always staying grounded. People and places are weaved from vital sentences.
Its a great story (I knew a little about the idea of drowned villages but this has brought the idea to life), exciting, interesting and profoundly moving. Hall manages to keep herself firmly within the characters minds and hearts never straying out into the territory of rights or politics.
June 8, 2016
I think it's just me -- I don't get Sarah Hall. I struggled to the halfway point and gave up. It just seemed dreadfully overwritten and portentous to me, laden with overdone symbolism to such an extent that however realistic the descriptions and setting, the characters didn't seem like real people, more mythic creatures. The encounter between Jack and Janet sheltering from the rain seemed directly lifted from the encounter of Aeneas and Dido in a thunderstorm in the Aeneid!
October 3, 2023
I have read, and rather enjoyed, quite a large chunk of Sarah Hall’s oeuvre to date. When I saw a copy of her debut novel, Haweswater, in my favourite local charity shop for just 50 pence, I had to pick it up. I hadn’t read any reviews of Haweswater before I started to read, and I admit that I was rather intrigued by it. The novel won the Commonwealth Writers First Book Award just after its publication in 2002.
Set in 1936, in the ‘old, northern county of Westmorland�, which has since been absorbed into Cumbria, Haweswater is described as a ‘first novel of love, obsession and the destruction of a community told with grace and artistry.� In the dale, there arrives a man named Jack Liggett, a ‘spokesman for a vast industrial project to create a new reservoir.� Based in Manchester, Jack soon begins ‘a troubled and intense� affair with a local woman, Janet Lightburn. Janet is ‘a woman of force and strength of mind, [and] her natural orthodoxy deeply influences him.�
This is not just a novel about a relationship; rather, it focuses more on the valley itself, and the changes brought upon it. All of the villagers are forced to move away before the reservoir can be completed, with their houses, many of which have been lived in by their families for generations, forecast to be completely underwater.
In the novel’s prologue, Hall sets up the changed landscape: ‘This was a monumental flood, water of epic proportions. It turned through the wooden spokes relentlessly, and as it did so it became like a music that is accidental, deeply beautiful and made only once. Somatic music that fills in space and time. A corrugated harp of orchestral rivers� And even as the man hated this water, he could not help but find it beautiful. It stood for more than itself and it sang of its presence.�
From the first, I was struck by the way Hall has with words; her descriptions are quite unusual, but perfectly capture things. She is particularly skilled at doing so with the emotions of her characters: ‘Then there is the matter of his heart. Inside his old heart a new one was growing and pushing to get out, and inside that one another one, and another, all pushing to get out. So many hearts. And that was how grief worked inside the man. Filling his chest cavity he stooped over with the weight. So much of his life was gone. More than his home and his fields, more than the valley…�.
Haweswater is not the most action-packed novel; however, I personally love reading about small, rural communities. I found Hall’s perspective on this particular village, in the face of a huge amount of change, very interesting indeed. In my opinion, Haweswater is not her best novel, but I did really enjoy the reading experience.
Set in 1936, in the ‘old, northern county of Westmorland�, which has since been absorbed into Cumbria, Haweswater is described as a ‘first novel of love, obsession and the destruction of a community told with grace and artistry.� In the dale, there arrives a man named Jack Liggett, a ‘spokesman for a vast industrial project to create a new reservoir.� Based in Manchester, Jack soon begins ‘a troubled and intense� affair with a local woman, Janet Lightburn. Janet is ‘a woman of force and strength of mind, [and] her natural orthodoxy deeply influences him.�
This is not just a novel about a relationship; rather, it focuses more on the valley itself, and the changes brought upon it. All of the villagers are forced to move away before the reservoir can be completed, with their houses, many of which have been lived in by their families for generations, forecast to be completely underwater.
In the novel’s prologue, Hall sets up the changed landscape: ‘This was a monumental flood, water of epic proportions. It turned through the wooden spokes relentlessly, and as it did so it became like a music that is accidental, deeply beautiful and made only once. Somatic music that fills in space and time. A corrugated harp of orchestral rivers� And even as the man hated this water, he could not help but find it beautiful. It stood for more than itself and it sang of its presence.�
From the first, I was struck by the way Hall has with words; her descriptions are quite unusual, but perfectly capture things. She is particularly skilled at doing so with the emotions of her characters: ‘Then there is the matter of his heart. Inside his old heart a new one was growing and pushing to get out, and inside that one another one, and another, all pushing to get out. So many hearts. And that was how grief worked inside the man. Filling his chest cavity he stooped over with the weight. So much of his life was gone. More than his home and his fields, more than the valley…�.
Haweswater is not the most action-packed novel; however, I personally love reading about small, rural communities. I found Hall’s perspective on this particular village, in the face of a huge amount of change, very interesting indeed. In my opinion, Haweswater is not her best novel, but I did really enjoy the reading experience.
April 10, 2014
I make it my job to buy a book in an indie bookstore in every new place I visit. My choice in Sam Read's Bookshop in Grasmere was Haweswater. With Sarah's powers of description, I felt as if I carried a piece of the Lake District home with me.
This is a story of a close-knit and insular community, the glue of which is the land their families farm, some for generations. A community of just 25 houses, a manor house, a pub, a church and a one-roomed schoolhouse, set in a stone valley. Into this community comes a man from the city, driving a shiny red motor vehicle. His message is that the few will have to make a sacrifice, so that the many are supplied with water.
This is the not the first time that the men of the valley have been asked to make personal sacrifices. Several of them left this beloved country to fight in the Great War. Perhaps they fought so that they could protect this small and isolated valley. But Manchester Waterworks have bought the land, a law has been passed, and the farmers tenancies will not be renewed. They have no legal claim over the land. There are to be no awards of compensation.
Janet Lightburn, a young woman who both shows great promise but is a product of her landscape, should not fall in love with the man from the Manchester Waterworks. Any other man would have done his job and left the building of the Haweswater dam to the engineers and the navvies. But Jack Liggett was not the man the people of Hawswater first had him pegged as. Coming from the poverty of the city, as a boy, he had jumped the train to escape from a violent father, and his destination had been the Lakeland fells. He wanted to see the Haweswater dam project through.
This is a love story to the land and to a disappearing way of life. The secretive and sometimes violent collision between two of the novel's central characters is a perfect reflection of both the landscape, the unsettling time between the wars, and the pace of unstoppable change.
This is a slow and thought-provoking read. Avoid if you like your fiction plot-driven and fast-paced.
This is a story of a close-knit and insular community, the glue of which is the land their families farm, some for generations. A community of just 25 houses, a manor house, a pub, a church and a one-roomed schoolhouse, set in a stone valley. Into this community comes a man from the city, driving a shiny red motor vehicle. His message is that the few will have to make a sacrifice, so that the many are supplied with water.
This is the not the first time that the men of the valley have been asked to make personal sacrifices. Several of them left this beloved country to fight in the Great War. Perhaps they fought so that they could protect this small and isolated valley. But Manchester Waterworks have bought the land, a law has been passed, and the farmers tenancies will not be renewed. They have no legal claim over the land. There are to be no awards of compensation.
Janet Lightburn, a young woman who both shows great promise but is a product of her landscape, should not fall in love with the man from the Manchester Waterworks. Any other man would have done his job and left the building of the Haweswater dam to the engineers and the navvies. But Jack Liggett was not the man the people of Hawswater first had him pegged as. Coming from the poverty of the city, as a boy, he had jumped the train to escape from a violent father, and his destination had been the Lakeland fells. He wanted to see the Haweswater dam project through.
This is a love story to the land and to a disappearing way of life. The secretive and sometimes violent collision between two of the novel's central characters is a perfect reflection of both the landscape, the unsettling time between the wars, and the pace of unstoppable change.
This is a slow and thought-provoking read. Avoid if you like your fiction plot-driven and fast-paced.
January 11, 2025
Really enjoyed this book, a hidden Jem, well worth a read.
December 24, 2013
Book lovers haunting the moors of literary fiction in search of another tryst as stirring as Wuthering Heights should embrace Sarah Hall's first novel, Haweswater. Although the book's tardy, modest arrival in the United States (four years after it first appeared in England, and now only in paperback) probably condemns it to obscurity here, this young writer has enjoyed extraordinary success in England. Haweswater won the Commonwealth Best First Novel Award, and her second book, The Electric Michelangelo, was a finalist for the Man Booker Prize in 2004. Ideally, American book clubs -- preferring paperbacks and perpetually torn between the newest releases and the classics -- will discover this lush, tragic story about the obliteration of a real-life village in the Lake District.
Hall grew up in a farming community in northwest England near the Scottish border, not far from the Haweswater Reservoir. Built in the early 1930s, the four-mile-long reservoir was a cutting-edge feat of engineering at the time, but it involved flooding the little town of Mardale, where tenant farmers had worked and worshiped for centuries. Hall's novel, grounded in the stones and loam of this doomed village, is a celebration of that way of a life and a memorial of its passing -- unutterable sorrow balanced delicately with the intoxicating beauty of this place.
The story is full of subtly drawn characters -- some introduced even in the final chapters -- but it revolves around Janet Lightburn, the daughter of a respected tenant farmer. She was born in a hail of curses from her usually devout mother, and something of that surprising anger hovers around her as she grows up. "Her ways were not in keeping with her youth or her sex," Hall writes. "She had developed a disturbing habit of staring at things, staring clear into them, so that her eyes never dropped during chastisement or argument." Despite her raw beauty, she vexes the young men of Mardale, who find her too intimidating, too smart, too manly.
But then a stranger named Jack Liggett arrives in a new sports car, like something from another country, or even the future. "He was dressed for a dinner, or a dance, like an unusual, exotic bird," Hall writes, and he announced "a project so strange and vast that at first it was not taken seriously by the village." The farmers simply ignore the reservoir plans for months, as though it's too preposterous to worry about. But Janet "had both the intellectual dexterity of an adult and the reckless tongue of any youth running to catch up with their own life. . . . A volatile combination." She dives into the details of the project, exhorts the passive farmers to resist and finally confronts the dashing spokesman who has announced their demise.
Their sparring bristles with wry wit, a touch of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Neither Jack nor Janet can understand the attraction to the other. "It could have been sheer mischance," Hall writes. "For there are times when passion can describe a random passage of its own accord, like electrical energy in the atmosphere which will strike out in any direction, seeking a high object to ground itself on." When that first strike finally hits, it's a fantastically charged moment -- cover your eyes, Jane Austen! -- erotic and rough. These two forbidden lovers keep at it secretly in the forest, under a waterfall, behind the barn, leaving them scarred and bruised, with pebbles ground into their shoulders and pine sap in their hair. Jack falls in love with her and the land he's pledged to flood, while Janet burns with conflicted passion for "this beautiful, hateful, loved man." It's "the sort of romance that shakes up history and devastates valleys." That it results in a climax of legendary tragedy is signaled in the book's opening chapter without any reduction of its final power.
But their fated affair competes with another one just as passionate: the author's yearning for the village. Mardale is so beautiful that it seems to hover between our world and the land of myth. Hall never projects any modern-day environmental notions onto the past. Instead, she laments the loss of this valley with sentences that pass over the pages like a lover's caress: "In the morning the light was terracotta, a burnt orange lapping over the eastern fells. The road to Swindale was still eerie and unlit, twisting through trees on the steep valley side, soaked by shadow."
During periods of drought, the remains of stone buildings still rise above the surface of the Haweswater Reservoir. Hall's incantatory prose might call them forth again, too.
Hall grew up in a farming community in northwest England near the Scottish border, not far from the Haweswater Reservoir. Built in the early 1930s, the four-mile-long reservoir was a cutting-edge feat of engineering at the time, but it involved flooding the little town of Mardale, where tenant farmers had worked and worshiped for centuries. Hall's novel, grounded in the stones and loam of this doomed village, is a celebration of that way of a life and a memorial of its passing -- unutterable sorrow balanced delicately with the intoxicating beauty of this place.
The story is full of subtly drawn characters -- some introduced even in the final chapters -- but it revolves around Janet Lightburn, the daughter of a respected tenant farmer. She was born in a hail of curses from her usually devout mother, and something of that surprising anger hovers around her as she grows up. "Her ways were not in keeping with her youth or her sex," Hall writes. "She had developed a disturbing habit of staring at things, staring clear into them, so that her eyes never dropped during chastisement or argument." Despite her raw beauty, she vexes the young men of Mardale, who find her too intimidating, too smart, too manly.
But then a stranger named Jack Liggett arrives in a new sports car, like something from another country, or even the future. "He was dressed for a dinner, or a dance, like an unusual, exotic bird," Hall writes, and he announced "a project so strange and vast that at first it was not taken seriously by the village." The farmers simply ignore the reservoir plans for months, as though it's too preposterous to worry about. But Janet "had both the intellectual dexterity of an adult and the reckless tongue of any youth running to catch up with their own life. . . . A volatile combination." She dives into the details of the project, exhorts the passive farmers to resist and finally confronts the dashing spokesman who has announced their demise.
Their sparring bristles with wry wit, a touch of Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth Bennet. Neither Jack nor Janet can understand the attraction to the other. "It could have been sheer mischance," Hall writes. "For there are times when passion can describe a random passage of its own accord, like electrical energy in the atmosphere which will strike out in any direction, seeking a high object to ground itself on." When that first strike finally hits, it's a fantastically charged moment -- cover your eyes, Jane Austen! -- erotic and rough. These two forbidden lovers keep at it secretly in the forest, under a waterfall, behind the barn, leaving them scarred and bruised, with pebbles ground into their shoulders and pine sap in their hair. Jack falls in love with her and the land he's pledged to flood, while Janet burns with conflicted passion for "this beautiful, hateful, loved man." It's "the sort of romance that shakes up history and devastates valleys." That it results in a climax of legendary tragedy is signaled in the book's opening chapter without any reduction of its final power.
But their fated affair competes with another one just as passionate: the author's yearning for the village. Mardale is so beautiful that it seems to hover between our world and the land of myth. Hall never projects any modern-day environmental notions onto the past. Instead, she laments the loss of this valley with sentences that pass over the pages like a lover's caress: "In the morning the light was terracotta, a burnt orange lapping over the eastern fells. The road to Swindale was still eerie and unlit, twisting through trees on the steep valley side, soaked by shadow."
During periods of drought, the remains of stone buildings still rise above the surface of the Haweswater Reservoir. Hall's incantatory prose might call them forth again, too.
December 2, 2010
In the early 1930s the Haweswater Dam was built to help to meet the increasing demand for water in the increasingly industrialised north of England.
And so a valley was flooded. And two villages � Measand and Marsdale Green � were destroyed.
The price of progress is high. Landscapes, communities and homes, all lost.
And Sarah Hall brings all of this back to life, using words oh so beautifully. Images of farming communities, whose lives follow ways established generations ago, are sent against the rising tide of industrialisation, modernisation, and the demands that they bring.
And then there’s the human story, a story that lays bare the emotional consequences of the flooding of the valley.
Sam and Ella Lightburn have both lived there for all their lives. They have two children. A grown daughter, Janet, and a young son, Isaac. The family farm and the surrounding countryside makes up the very fabric of their lives. They know nothing else. They want nothing else.
But change is inevitable.
Jack Liggett is sent by Manchester City Waterworks to supervise the construction of the dam and oversee the evacuation of the valley. He appreciates the countryside and the community that he is come to, but he cannot save them.
And so the stage is set.
The characters are lightly painted, but it is enough. It is the emotions that are important, and they are vivid and utterly real.
Janet, young, headstrong and desperate to save her home, is drawn to Jack, who must destroy it. A relationship grows, and deepens as the water levels rise and villagers begin to leave their homes.
It is quite impossible not to be entranced by the story that unfolds.
But it is clear from the start that this is a tragedy, and the building of the dam would have consequences that were utterly heartbreaking.
But there was a glimmer of hope - and a new local legend was born.
It is rare to find such wonderful images created and such wonderful storytelling inside a single book.
Haweswater really is an extraordinarily accomplished debut novel.
And so a valley was flooded. And two villages � Measand and Marsdale Green � were destroyed.
The price of progress is high. Landscapes, communities and homes, all lost.
And Sarah Hall brings all of this back to life, using words oh so beautifully. Images of farming communities, whose lives follow ways established generations ago, are sent against the rising tide of industrialisation, modernisation, and the demands that they bring.
And then there’s the human story, a story that lays bare the emotional consequences of the flooding of the valley.
Sam and Ella Lightburn have both lived there for all their lives. They have two children. A grown daughter, Janet, and a young son, Isaac. The family farm and the surrounding countryside makes up the very fabric of their lives. They know nothing else. They want nothing else.
But change is inevitable.
Jack Liggett is sent by Manchester City Waterworks to supervise the construction of the dam and oversee the evacuation of the valley. He appreciates the countryside and the community that he is come to, but he cannot save them.
And so the stage is set.
The characters are lightly painted, but it is enough. It is the emotions that are important, and they are vivid and utterly real.
Janet, young, headstrong and desperate to save her home, is drawn to Jack, who must destroy it. A relationship grows, and deepens as the water levels rise and villagers begin to leave their homes.
It is quite impossible not to be entranced by the story that unfolds.
But it is clear from the start that this is a tragedy, and the building of the dam would have consequences that were utterly heartbreaking.
But there was a glimmer of hope - and a new local legend was born.
It is rare to find such wonderful images created and such wonderful storytelling inside a single book.
Haweswater really is an extraordinarily accomplished debut novel.
October 24, 2011
*Spoiler Alert*
I was about to give this 3-stars, until being totally disappointed by the last 30 pages or so. Throughout, I had problems with character development and plot. She hooked me with initial descriptions of people, but then left much unexplored and no reason for some of the earlier narrative. It was like she was not totally clear which direction she wanted the story to go or which characters she wanted to focus on. I was willing to overlook this in light of what is still an engaging setting and story lines with alot of potential. However, in the final sections she kills off three main characters, only one of which has a sort of convincing reason why. It's really annoying, and any empathy or interest I had built up for the characters kinda vanished. Her later novels are much better - really liked Electric Michaelangelo - but this one I would skip.
I was about to give this 3-stars, until being totally disappointed by the last 30 pages or so. Throughout, I had problems with character development and plot. She hooked me with initial descriptions of people, but then left much unexplored and no reason for some of the earlier narrative. It was like she was not totally clear which direction she wanted the story to go or which characters she wanted to focus on. I was willing to overlook this in light of what is still an engaging setting and story lines with alot of potential. However, in the final sections she kills off three main characters, only one of which has a sort of convincing reason why. It's really annoying, and any empathy or interest I had built up for the characters kinda vanished. Her later novels are much better - really liked Electric Michaelangelo - but this one I would skip.
February 15, 2013
This was a hard read for me. The writer is so lyrical, so poetic, she so loves this corner of England that the reader has to shift gears all the time. The setting is lovely, the plot good, the characters not lovable, the romance painful, the outcome even worse (spoiler, sorry).
I can understand the structure of the story, the yin and yang of the personalities. It's just that I would have been happier with an Annie Proulx version.
I can understand the structure of the story, the yin and yang of the personalities. It's just that I would have been happier with an Annie Proulx version.
January 29, 2017
I live surrounded by reservoirs, which nestle among the moors, drowning valleys that once were the centres of people's lives. So this novel about constructing a reservoir in Cumbria, designed to provide water for far away Manchester, appealed to me. The characters are beautifully drawn, and the tensions which tear the community apart are dramatically conveyed. The story is, I think, based on fact. Highly recommended.
October 28, 2022
Hall writes with an old soul. Her language is visceral and elemental. You can smell the lichen, feel the minerals in the water and touch the bark ridges rough under your hands. She’s taken a real event ( the flooding of a small northern village to create a reservoir to supply water to the city) and woven a human story around the event. How she connects her characters to the land is deeply moving.
March 16, 2014
Stunning. Exceptionally beautiful prose and an all pervading sense of threat make this an engaging and memorable read. Also includes one of the most heart-rending descriptions of grief I have ever read, I was welling up.
November 24, 2020
I cannot write a full review yet. I’m still processing the emotional impact this book has had on me.
March 14, 2024
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A tiny remote village, Mardale, in a deep Lake District valley inhabited by a small, but thriving with life, cast of characters rich in humanity, hardworking tenant farmers, their tiny local school, church and pub.
A decision taken by those holding power in Westminster changes the lives of all those characters including the main one, the landscape. It is decided that this valley, village and community are expendable - that the growing city of Manchester and, its thirst for water, trumps their very existence.
As my love affair with the Lakeland Fells and my slow accumulation of Wainwrights is ongoing and as a resident of South Manchester all my passions were heightened by this fabulous read.
The vibrant colours of the landscape, the sounds of nature, the greed of men, the inevitable passage of time, the key moments in history intersecting with the minutiae of our daily lives.
And the melancholy that pervades the whole tragic narrative, simply beautiful.
A more critical, discerning reader might talk of overwritten prose but not for me, I was consumed by this one; my thirst for knowledge, history, storytelling and a few familiar mountain peaks, leaving me utterly quenched.
“Loss of consciousness is perhaps her worst enemy. It will trick her with its powers of neglect, it’s forsaking of memory. It will bury the knowledge of loss until that quick awakening hours or minutes later restores the taste of death again, fresher than ever.�
Recommended.
4.5, almost 5 stars.
From Wikipedia
Haweswater is a reservoir in the valley of Mardale, Cumbria in the Lake District, England. Work to raise the height of the original natural lake was started in 1929. It was controversially dammed after the UK Parliament passed a Private Act giving Manchester Corporation permission to build the reservoir to supply drinking water to the city. The decision caused a public outcry because the farming villages of Measand and Mardale Green would be flooded and the valley altered forever.
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June 5, 2018
Beautifully written an absolute pleasure to read.
December 20, 2022
Like the landscape, compelling and beautiful.
November 30, 2022
There's nowt I love more in fiction than heartbreaking, devastating, brutality.
Haweswater is beautifully written. Poetic almost. I had to stop several times to read aloud to my partner, I had to stop to catch my breath.
Haweswater is beautifully written. Poetic almost. I had to stop several times to read aloud to my partner, I had to stop to catch my breath.
August 14, 2021
There is no question about it: Sarah Hall is an incredibly gifted writer. My only regret with this title is that I choose to listen to the audiobook rather than read it. And if there’s one thing you know about Sarah Hall, is that she is a writer for readers. What do I mean by that? Simply that her prose is elegant, visual, and visceral.
The only way to truly enjoy the marrow of such fiendishly good writing is to immerse yourself - not unlike noise cancelling headphones - into the book. It means to cut yourself off from the outside world. It means to divest yourself of sound and distraction. For this is the kind of writing that demands, no, deserves your undivided attention. Do not listen to this book. Do not pick it up if you’re looking for a light read. Do not expect a casual dalliance. This is a commitment. It will ask of you your naked vulnerabilities, your lowered guard, your open wounds.
This writing is resplendent and rich with the soil of what it means to be human. And what it is to love and live that love with every breath. Rarely do you come across the kind of passion that is shared between Janet and Jack - rarely in life, rare in fiction. Rarely are you drawn in by the shifting landscape of a place that is foreign to you and now feels like your own. It pulses and pulls. A book to take your time with, to nurse as you would an old single malt perhaps. Sit with yourself, be still, and immerse yourself into this absolute beauty.
The only way to truly enjoy the marrow of such fiendishly good writing is to immerse yourself - not unlike noise cancelling headphones - into the book. It means to cut yourself off from the outside world. It means to divest yourself of sound and distraction. For this is the kind of writing that demands, no, deserves your undivided attention. Do not listen to this book. Do not pick it up if you’re looking for a light read. Do not expect a casual dalliance. This is a commitment. It will ask of you your naked vulnerabilities, your lowered guard, your open wounds.
This writing is resplendent and rich with the soil of what it means to be human. And what it is to love and live that love with every breath. Rarely do you come across the kind of passion that is shared between Janet and Jack - rarely in life, rare in fiction. Rarely are you drawn in by the shifting landscape of a place that is foreign to you and now feels like your own. It pulses and pulls. A book to take your time with, to nurse as you would an old single malt perhaps. Sit with yourself, be still, and immerse yourself into this absolute beauty.
October 24, 2015
I came to the books of the Cumbrian novelist Sarah Hall rather late with the short story collection The Beautiful Indifference. That was her fifth book and it blew me away. Since I read it I've been working backwards through the rest of her work - How to Paint a Dead Man, The Carhullan Army, The Electric Michelangelo, and now, finally, her first book, Haweswater. All have a sinewy Cumbrian feel to them, and that is most pronounced in Haweswater, a novel woven around the real-life creation of the Haweswater reservoir in the north-eastern corner of the Lake District in the late thirties, the drowning of the valley and the village of Mardale, and the displacement of the local tenant farmers. This is a tragic tale told in beautiful, glowing prose. For a first novel it is an astonishing achievement. I can't wait to read whatever she comes up with next. In the small sub-genre of drowned valley literature, Berlie Doherty's Deep Secret, about the creation of the Derwent dams west of Sheffield, is also very much worth a read. C
May 7, 2009
I read this book after discovering Sara Hall's second novel -- The Electric Michaelangelo -- and loving it. In this, her first book, you can see Hall's gift for crafting language but her pyrotechnical skills are much more subdued than in the Electric Michaelangelo. Perhaps that is an intentional part of the story. She evokes the time, place and characters of her tale beautifully. It is set in a remote valley in northern England, in the 1930's. It is a quiet farming community, both literally and figuratively. People don't talk much and not much has changed here over the years. Then word comes that a dam is being built and the valley will be flooded. Everyone must move. And with that the action of the book begins. Haweswater is slower moving and more mysterious than The Electric Michaelangelo. It didn't grab me as quickly or as strongly as her second book, but I enjoyed it very much nonetheless and would recommend it.
February 5, 2020
Befitting a tale of water, it flows, flows with power and grace, fills every angle and nook, carries with it depths and riches. But, also befitting a tale of water, it frequently drifts aimlessly, washing up and over this or that bank without purpose, before slowly trickling back to where it was probably meant to be, wherever that was.
I've now read two novels by Hall - How to Paint a Dead Man the other - and though Haweswater was by some distance the better, the impression I've got from both is an extraordinary technical, artful skill with word and phrase, tied to a sometimes irritatingly limited ability to tell a story.
I've now read two novels by Hall - How to Paint a Dead Man the other - and though Haweswater was by some distance the better, the impression I've got from both is an extraordinary technical, artful skill with word and phrase, tied to a sometimes irritatingly limited ability to tell a story.
January 9, 2024
This novel, in my opinion, attempts to manipulate the reader's emotions in a way that I do not find stimulating. It's as if I am not supposed to make up my mind about the various moral quandries posed in the novel. Rather, there's a clear answer that I should agree with. Because if we remove the moral aspect of this novel, we are basically left with a love story, which is another term for romance novel and that's OK, provided I was looking to read a romance novel.
September 16, 2021
Konusunu okuyunca bir köyün baraj yapacak şirkete karşı mücadelesini okuyacağımı düşünmüştüm. Hikayede bir mücadele yok ama tüm bu dönüşüm süreci içerisinde köyde yaşananlar var. Kötü değil kesinlikle. Hatta Sarah Hall'un bence çok zengin bir anlatımı var. Doğayı ve insanların duygularını tasvir edici çok iyi. Sadece aksiyonu az ama zengin dili için okunur bence. Kendimi o vadide hissettim ve o insanlarla birlikte üzüldüm.
January 10, 2015
The story of a Cumbrian village and its inhabitants who will soon be displaced by the drowning of their land to make way for a reservoir. I'd heard great things about Sarah Hall, but struggled to get through this book. Though there is a strong sense of place and some enjoyable parts - particularly focussed on the character of Janet Lightman - I found it heavy on research as opposed to story.
May 21, 2008
I couldn't get past page 40, unusual for me. I would be interested to know if other readers enjoyed this book and why. It sounded good but the author seemed so in love with her own prose that I felt I had to dig for the story - not worth it.
September 17, 2016
Beautifully written and very descriptive of the area in which it is set. But oh so gloomy and sad, there is not one whit of humour to counteract the sadness. It is pretty relentless.
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