Set in a holiday camp on the shore of a Scottish loch, ‘Summerwater’ by Sarah Moss depicts a single day of a nightmarish staycation - biblical amounts of rain, a cast of characters including an elderly couple, teenagers and stressed mothers, and a growing sense of dread that something very bad is definitely going to happen. Brexit and climate change provide the main political commentary and there also seem to be some unintentionally prescient shadows of the pandemic with the characters all confined to their cabins, but it’s possible I was reading too much into this at the height of lockdown.

‘Summerwater’ easily matches ‘Ghost Wall‘ in terms of Moss’s skill at building tension and atmosphere. It also revisits the menacing toxic masculinity theme of that novel through Justine’s husband Steve and other recurring motifs of her whole body of work including parenting, health issues and national identity. Due to its brevity at just over 200 pages with a relatively large cast of 12 characters, ‘Summerwater’ reads best as a series of vignettes without the extra padding of a fully fleshed-out novel. The impact of the ending is just as powerful though. Many thanks to Pan Macmillan for sending me a review copy via NetGalley.

I was intrigued by the description of this book, but for me it just didn’t quite meet my expectations. It was good and I found the story interesting, but I felt like there was slightly too much build up and very little pay off at the end. The stream of consciousness style was unusual and there were a lot of characters to keep track of with not much detail to distinguish between them, but I can see why others would like it.

Thank you to NetGalley and Pan Macmillan for the ARC of this book in exchange for an honest review.

Beautifully crafted and moving from humour to great poignancy with easy, this is a gripping, haunting and memorable book. Hugely enjoyable and a story that remains in the mind

Well, nothing really happens in this novel and yet it is so beautifully written that it's totally worthy a reading.

Sarah Moss has this magical way of putting words to work in such a way that it's prose but sounds like poetry.

I'd like to thank Netgalley and the publisher for providing me with an ARC of this novel in exchange for my honest review.

I spent many of my childhood holidays in the damp environs of the Scottish Borders, including in a log cabin, so the premise of Sarah Moss’s latest book immediately appealed to my nostalgic sensibilities. I had no idea what a rich, densely-packed, insightful read it was going to be in so many other ways.

The story, such as it is, follows twelve people relaxing in a Scottish holiday park, where the main, visible feature is the endlessly falling rain. There is no real meaty plot to form the book, instead we are given a series of internal monologues by different residents of the park, who range in age from children to retirees. The author makes the most remarkable job of giving us the authentic voices of each of the different characters which, although they are doing anything particularly memorable, bring the people vividly to life.

It may sound like not much occurs in the story, and this is a valid observation, but it matters not one jot to the appeal and rewards of the book. The internal observations we gain from the different narrators in their stream-of-consciousness internal pronouncements are more than enough to intrigue, engross and entertain. Moss has captured each of the characters perfectly, their thoughts so searing and authentic that you will find yourself laughing, crying, cringeing, grimacing and nodding along with them as you recognise the reflections and concerns that flit ethereal through their minds, and the way their thoughts skip and jump, making connections that make no sense and perfect sense at the same time. The writing is captivating and I could not get enough of it.

The thread tying all of the strands together is the reaction of the park residents to the inconsiderate behaviour of the occupants of one of the cabins, and the way this eventually played out left me shaken, disturbed and moved all at the same time. It was a shocking and perfect ending to the story, and captured and not-quite-tied up the mood of the novel in a lingering, melancholy and thought-provoking bow. This is a book that hangs around in your subconscious long after you’ve finished it, like a dream you haven’t fully deciphered and can’t quite shake.

The chapter featuring the young couple on their first holiday away together, particularly the thoughts running through the girl’s head during an intimate encounter, and the young mother given the blissful hour to herself that she has long been craving were my favourites. The first because it was so humorous and painful to read, the latter because I could relate to it so closely, but the whole book, which is so short it is really a novella, is packed full and dense with marvel and I know I will go back to it again and again to find fresh nuance to enjoy.

This book packs a massive and powerful bang for its size and was joyful to read. When I look back over the 2020’s reading at the end of the year, I know that this is one book I will remember and treasure as one of the stand out novels of the year. Given how unusual this year has been, and how I have lost myself in a larger than average number of great books, this is no mean epithet.

Well written but very short and alot of characters so it does not flow very well. I enjoyed The Tidal Zone much more.

Whilst very well written, the stream of consciousness style of writing in this story did not appeal to me, or grab my attention. I found many of the descriptive passages overlong and tedious. I could not connect with any of the characters, and found it ultimately a depressing story.

I am in a minority judging by other reviews, but unfortunately this book is just not for me.
My thanks to the publisher and Netgalley for my advance copy of this book.

Set over the course of one day at the height of summer in a run-down Scottish cabin park in the Trossachs, Summerwater is a short novella (not so easy to tell when reading on a kindle) that gives us access to the innermost thoughts of the inhabitants of six of these cabins – one from each in the morning and another in the afternoon.
With so many different viewpoints, it is almost like a series of linked short stories and does feel a bit disjointed at times. The stream of consciousness style of writing gives the reader a unique insight into every thought and feeling that passes through the character’s mind; in some cases we get the same situation from both partners, and the difference in their thoughts is very revealing.
Anyone who has ever taken a similar holiday in Scotland will be familiar with this type of weather; it’s par for the course. What I found strange was that very few of them ventured out, allowing themselves to be stuck indoors, as you don’t go to Scotland for the weather. One lady goes running, a teenage boy goes for a trip in his kayak, and the elderly couple go out in the car; otherwise everyone else mostly stays indoors. The writing emphasises the claustrophobic feeling of being trapped and shut in.
By being party to the thoughts of each of the characters, we learn that they watch each other, but there is very little interaction between them. There are some Ukrainians in one cabin having parties and playing loud music late into the night; also an ex-soldier camping in the woods. We do not hear what they are thinking which only adds to the suspicion and the tension.
Each of the characters has a distinct voice, but some of their thoughts are a bit insular and depressing. Between each chapter is a short piece on the natural world surrounding the park; perhaps a reminder that the humans are not the only creatures living there.
I have not read anything by Sarah Moss before, but will definitely try some of her earlier novels as the quality of the atmospheric prose more than made up for the abrupt and unsatisfying ending.
Thanks to Picador and NetGalley for a copy to review.

On the longest day of the summer, twelve people sit cooped up with their families in a faded Scottish cabin park. The endless rain leaves them with little to do but watch the other residents.

Summerwater was inspired by a family holiday that Sarah Moss had in Scotland where it relentlessly rained.

‘You can’t wait for the fucking weather, not here, you’ll be dead before it stops raining.’

The story revolves around twelve very different families over a twenty four hour period. But in fact, they have a lot more in common with each other than they actually realise.

‘...who the fuck goes on holiday where there isn’t even a chippy?’

This book is a ‘people-watchers’ dream. After all, what else is there to do when it’s pouring down outside? You’ve just spent a small fortune on a musty old cabin in the woods, and the sun seems like a long distant memory. You’d sit and watch the world go by from inside that cabin and judge each other of course! That’s what I would do anyway. Get my moneys worth one way or another. British holidays are a lot to be desired at times.

‘People get on best, in Claire’s view, when they’re apart at least half the time...’

We get to meet bored young children and angsty teenagers, newly engaged young things and married couples whose relationships have become stagnant and barely tolerable as they approach old age.

What they all have in common is they are disgruntled by the weather, their lives in general, and most of all each other.

‘What do you want, Josh whispers in her ear. A cup of tea and a bacon bap, she thinks, would be excellent, but she says kiss me...’

We’ve all been there, those family holidays where we try our hardest to make the best of a bad situation. Sitting indoors with no phone signal or WiFi can force our minds back into the real world, whether we like it or not. What is it about the British, is it really such a strain to talk and connect with each other?

‘Have a bath, he said’ ...Women’s magazines always say that, a long scented bath, as if everything from baby weight to infidelity will dissolve in enough hot water, as if you can spend enough on bath salts to cover the smell of self-loathing and rage.’

In between each chapter, Moss delicately brings in another aspect to the story. Brief, evocative description of the surroundings, vignette style chapters which connect the surrounding natural world to the characters. Whilst reading these, they gave me welcomed respite from the character-driven trope. A breather almost, to prepare me for the next ‘human’ instalment.

‘You probably don’t notice when you’re in your prime, do you; in fact, if you’re thinking about your prime it’s almost certainly over.’

What I loved most about Summerwater was it’s simple concept mixed with the complexities of being human, being loved and being angry.
This story is littered with a dark humour I wasn’t expecting. I experienced real hearty belly laughs on numerous occasions. I read some of it in the bathtub too, soaking away my own ‘self-loathing and rage’! At one point I looked up into the bathroom mirror and saw my facial expression which I think was mixture of a ‘knowing smirk’ and a deep connective understanding.

I read about 30 pages towards the end out loud to myself as I had a few hours on my own. I wanted to properly ‘hear’ the characters’ voices. The dialogue was chatty, easy. The descriptions breathtakingly beautiful.

The final few pages of Summerwater was phenomenal. I’ll say no more on that subject, I suggest you read it.

This is the first time I’ve read anything by Sarah Moss, and I’m delighted to discover she has a back catalogue which I will definitely get through.

I’ll leave you with a final quote, from Justine. She’s a Mum of two with a running-obsession, but what is she REALLY running from? She was definitely my most favourite character of all;

‘...old ladies, powder and lipstick to totter to the corner shop with one of those trolleys because they’ve not bothered to lift anything heavier than a biscuit since the menopause...’

Big thanks to Sarah Moss and Picador for sending me an advanced copy via the NetGalley platform in exchange for an honest review.

Wow. Another short but utterly gruelling and impactful read from Sarah Moss. She is so keenly observant and I love the sparseness of her writing.

Sarah Moss does it again.

This is a 'slice of life' novel set over the course of one day in a very rainy Loch Lomond chalet park. Each chapter has a different narrator which gives the multiple perspectives of the staycationers. There's bickering, tenderness, frustration, confusion and Moss channels these emotions and situations so vividly that each character captivates you.

The tension is palpable from the very first page to its shocking climax. I don't know how she does it. I'm now going to buy her entire back catalogue!

love Sarah Moss’s evocative, observant and very readable writing style, and I really enjoyed her latest novella Summerwater, which I believe has also been published under the title A Day Like This.

Summerwater is set over a couple of days in a remote loch-side holiday park in Scotland. The weather is definitely more water than summer, with torrential rain forcing the holidaymakers to spend most of the time inside their (once luxurious but now slightly faded) wooden cabins. Events unfold over a couple of days, as the inhabitants of the cabins spend their holiday reading, watching TV and getting on each other’s nerves. Tensions are also directed towards an Eastern European family who keep everyone awake at night with loud music and raucous partying.

Each chapter focuses on a different inhabitant of the cabins. There’s a retired doctor and his ailing wife, a young couple using the bad weather as an excuse to spend the day in bed and three families (or was it four, I have to admit I found it hard to differentiate between them) who are struggling to keep their children entertained due to the abysmal weather and lack of wifi. The strained, claustrophobic nature of family holidays, with their enforced proximity and pressure to have fun and the observant stream of consciousness narrative reminded me of Jon McGregor’s novels (which I love). It’s one of those books where nothing very much seems to happen but you can feel the tension mounting (a bit like the family holidays it depicts), which made the shocking ending even more powerful and unnerving.

'Under the hedges, in the hollows of tall trees, birds droop and wilt, grounded, waiting. Small creatures in their burrows nose the air and stay hungry.
There will be deaths by morning.'

Not having read any Sarah Moss before I was attracted to this book solely by the premise: over the course of one day, in a rain-soaked cabin park in Scotland, a group of disparate people try to keep themselves occupied before cabin fever sets in. We've all been there, right?

The first six chapter focuses on each of the families one at a time, and then the next six revisit them but from a different perspective (the husband rather than the wife, the child rather than the parent). Justine is addicted to running; David's wife Mary is struggling with the onset of dementia; Josh is determined that if he and Millie have good enough sex they will stay together forever; Alex just wants to escape his family and go kayaking; all Claire craves is some peace and quiet away from her family, but then doesn't know what to do with it; and Jack and Lola are determined to play outside, despite the rain, where they meet another child, Violetta.

Interspersed with these are small vignettes of descriptions of the natural world and the local wildlife, who themselves are trying to survive in the teaming rain. The overall impression, if I can compare other authors, is a blend of Jon McGregor meets Robert Macfarlane with Moss's unique voice, all of them blending beautiful and precise descriptions of the natural world whilst comparing and contrasting them to humankind's trivial little lives. There is beauty to Moss's prose, and in such a short book she gives a pretty rounded characterisation of those whom we meet. There is one family, however, that we don't hear from - an eastern European mother and her daughter, Violetta. We see them only through the (sometimes) hostile eyes of others, and there is perhaps a clue in the title to how we are meant to see this. Summerwater echoes the Yorkshire lake Semerwater, and indeed one of the characters, Mary, tries to remember a poem based on the legend of the creation of the lake, which pivots on a society spurning a visitor only for a poor couple on the outskirts of the city who take him in and feed him. A curse was laid on the town and it flooded. Clearly, Moss intends us, at least in part, to make connections between outsiders, water and a deadly reckoning.

Indeed, a sense of menace hangs over the whole book, with not only the descriptions of nature but also with the coming of night and the music blaring from one of the chalets. Ominously, all of the attention now lies on the chalet of the eastern European family, the 'other' and the 'outsider'.

Quietly devastating, this is a powerful and beautifully written novel than in 200 pages has enough impact to linger in your mind. The landscape dominates everything, and one of the unintended consequences of releasing the book now, in the middle of a global pandemic, is that as we all emerge from our enforced lockdown, the claustrophobia and sense of being stuck inside will resonate with many. Moss writes beautiful, lyric prose that haunts the novel. Subtle yet ominous, this is a wonderful book.

(With thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an ARC of this title.)

Set in a Scottish cabin park, Sarah Moss' story is a sparse, delicate tale of 12 people going about their lives on a very rainy day.

This is a novel that dwells in details, there is no fast moving plot here. The story unfolds through views of different people as they go about their day in the holiday park; Justine who goes out running in the morning, Alex who takes his kayak out in wet and windy conditions; Mary who has retired and is beginning to lose her memory.

Each individual character is delicately drawn, each giving us a window into their hopes, fears and dreams whilst still interacting enough with the community that the tension heightens as the story draws to it's conclusion.

This book excels at drawing you and having you live the characters, the command of voice is wonderful and there is some great nature writing in between the larger character driven sections. Whilst there is little plot to speak off (one family making a lot of noise on the cabin site, other families unhappy), the motivations of the cabin dwellers is expertly teased out, and we are drawn along with them, whilst the tension builds and resolves to a satisfying conclusion.

This is a fine, fine, novel. It's characters feel real, their fears and anxious expertly laid out, each psyche laid bare, and relatable whilst the thin strands of narrative web weave around them and pull them together. I hope that Sarah Moss continues to write novels as good as this and I look forward to reading them.

Sarah Moss is at her observant and insightful best in this entertaining novel set during a long rainy summer’s day in a holiday park in Scotland, where we get inside the heads of 12 disparate people trying, with varying levels of success, to enjoy their vacation. The rain is relentless and each household has to deal with this enforced isolation as best they can. Some even feel brave enough to venture outside but most stay indoors and reflect on their lives and current situation - and we listen in to their thoughts. And, inevitably, they all watch each other and judge each other. The thread that binds them is that they are British, white, middle-class, privileged – except one cabin which houses someone from “eastern Europe”, whose thoughts we are not privy to and who by their otherness evoke ambiguous feelings in the other holidaymakers. It’s a claustrophobic portrait of a community effectively in lockdown, and it’s a moot point as to what sort of neighbourliness and sense of community they will demonstrate. A darkly comic post-Brexit, post-Covid novel and a great read.

"Summerwater" is a story of a group of holidaymakers cooped in a cabin park in the Scottish highlands, during the longest day of summer. Torrential rain, lack of wifi or telephone signal and the remote location, leaves them all restless. Each chapter of this slim novel is told from the perspective of a different person, their thoughts, worries and pettiness exposed. This is a case of a novel where very little happens, but the tension is right there, in beautiful descriptions of unleashed elements, in precise monologues, where people vent their frustrations, boredom and impatience. There are glimpses into the forest, the lake, the animals living there, each of them going on about their lives while humans talk, think and pass judgement. Sarah Moss is brilliant at internal monologues and observations, and we are pulled into the story, as we stare at the families enclosed in their own bubbles, each of the chapters a little window into someone’s life.

Before I requested a copy of this book I had read a lot of positive reviews and I was not disappointed. I loved this book from the beginning and could not stop reading. The descriptions are so detailed it's almost like you're watching a movie instead of reading a book. I could not put it down until it was finished.

It's a wet day in Scotland and the occupants of six cabins on a campsite have nothing to do except look out of their windows at the view and contemplate their lives and those of their neighbours.

All of life is here - children, teenagers, middle-aged parents, and the retired. They have different experiences, lifestyles and viewpoints so how will they relate to each other? Will we see friendship or conflict?

It's fascinating as the long, slow day stretches on, with a sense of gloom and foreboding building. The ending, though, is surprising and devastating.

A book to read on a long, slow, wet day, stuck inside with nowhere to go! Brilliant.

I was hand selling this title months before it was due out, I LOVE Sarah Moss, 'Ghost Wall' was my hightlight book from last year.
Summerwater not only met my expectations but exceeded them in everyway, Moss presents the conflicting voices of our day through holidaying strangers, creating a carefully crafted tale of the terrifying price of ignorance. Not one to miss.

Summerwater, Sarah Moss' latest book, has been described as a companion novel to her earlier release Ghost Wall. I can, having now read both novels, see the connection. Both books follow people who have left the comforts of modern life to in some way get closer to nature. In doing so they also get closer to the baser and more carnal aspects of being human they become more aware of their bodies, how they smell, their physical desires.

The book is broken up into headings and each section focuses on a different cabin in a Scottish holiday camp over the course of a day on during an unusually wet, cool summer. Each cabin contains its own climate, there is tension and conflict but there is also love and humour.

Summerwater would make a fantastic television adaptation as it is full of material ripe for expansion and development. The undercurrents of racism in post-Brexit Britain, for example, were acutely observed and didn't feel shoe-horned in for effect. I real the final pages desperate to know how it would all end and how all these lives would come together. It was a fascinating, devastating ending and one I will no doubt think about for days to come. Sarah Moss' writing style is wonderful, it takes some getting used to but once you do it is utterly compelling and engrossing. If you're looking for an intelligent summer read with a dark thread running through it, Summerwater would be well worth your time.