Ian McGuire’s The North Water is a disturbing and darkly poetic case study on human depravity. The author’s style is one of extreme realism with the introspection of Herman Melville and the themes of survival and primitivism of Jack London.

The strength of the tale lies in the writing. McGuire’s prose is stunningly and graphically lyrical, vividly detailed and eloquent even as it delves into the basest acts of humanity. McGuire does an impeccable job of exploring the psyche of brutal men. In the character of Henry Drax, the author has created a figure who wears only the sheerest guise of humanity but who operates on an animal level, primal and reactive. Through his characters, McGuire explores the truth that lies at the heart of mankind: When stripped of the constraints of a civilized, safe existence, man is but an animal.

While the writing is gripping, the story itself drags and flounders, and the present tense is jarring and inelegant. The only plot is the loose arch of survival on a whaling ship in the midst of brutal elements and even more dangerous crew members. The author does not give the reader any character with whom to empathize, making for a detached, clinical read. McGuire misses the mark with Patrick Sumner, the character with whom the reader is supposed to empathize. Sumner falls flat as a hero—or even an anti-hero. With no driving plot or truly sympathetic characters, the tale begins to read as a droning competition to see how much depravity the author can pack onto the page.

The story had a promising start, but the taut grip of the tale waned. The exploration of barbarity, of cruelty toward animals and fellow man is too repetitive to be powerful. While McGuire’s writing style is stellar, visual, and visceral, the execution of The North Water made for a tiresome read that ended none too soon.

Recommended for the writing style: the author is an impressive wordsmith, but the story lacks tight plotting; not recommended for the squeamish or sensitive reader.