Steel, Flesh and Floods: Mariette Navarro’s debut novel “Over the Sea”

This scene will surely be remembered: The crew of a container ship lowers a lifeboat to go swimming in the middle of the Atlantic. Kilometers of water below them, they splash about on the high seas, while only the captain remains on deck. It is a large, a magnificent image with which Mariette Navarro introduces her debut novel “Über die See”.

But it is also daring, as it evokes associations with refugees in distress at sea. They, too, cast aside all thoughts of security while those at borders demand the utmost urgency. The route their boats usually take is from the south to the north, in the opposite direction to that of the sailors, who here, out of sheer thirst for adventure, expose themselves to danger for a moment in order to be reborn in the waves.

Is it opportune to work with this picture, to use it as the starting point of a story that deals with existential themes, but not in the sense of an escape from persecution or poverty, but rather as an escape from mental homelessness? At least the author hardly shows any sense that her picture is not her picture, that it is not new and devoid of any meaning.

Sensitive, wide awake narrator

This is surprising because otherwise Navarro proves to be a sensitive and wide-awake narrator. Translated from French by Sophie Beese, her prose sparkles and shimmers between a multitude of models and themes. Borrowings from feminist classics shine through, as does Herman Melville, who, with his Moby Dick, negotiated the relationship between humans and animals, between technology and nature. In “Über die See” completely new connections between steel, flesh and floods take place, the fight becomes a ménage à trois in which no one can be sure in which corner he is standing.

After the men have returned from their bathing excursion, the ship takes on a life of its own. It drives slower and slower, then suddenly faster, its engine composes a piece, the captain feels the rhythm as a heartbeat and can hardly distinguish it from her own. If you like, you can discover references to Anthropocene literature that deals with the question of how to react to the certainty that humans are the decisive factor on this planet. Navarro first responds with gentle mockery – how small and childish the sailors float on the surface of the ocean – whereupon a melancholy creeps in: the loneliness of that species, which bears the weight of the crown of creation, which it lets its chin sink into the rising water level.

But now the course of the world is changing course. Not only can the ship no longer be controlled, a mysterious fog arises and the captain discovers a stowaway. A mysterious man with pale eyes has crept in, he promises evil, is possibly death itself. According to the legend of Iphigenia, does a sacrifice have to be made in order to reach the safe haven? Despite all the literary ambitions that Navarro allows, her novel is also simply exciting, it is based on both myth and thriller. One wonders if this book wouldn’t come close to what a director like Terrence Malick would have conjured up from the silly script of the film Speed ​​II.

Without false modesty, Navarro initially divides humanity into three groups: there are only the living, the dead and the seafarers. “Deep down they already know which category they belong to, that’s no real surprise, no real insight.” At least the second part of this determination is questionable, as the novel narrows and controls all its themes and motifs later on towards the narrative of an identity crisis.

Apparently, nature and technology are going haywire here because the people, in this case the captain, are not in the right category. She always thought she was born for the sea. Her father was also a captain. He also got into similar difficulties on a voyage off the Argentine coast, his ship disappeared from the radar for weeks. When it finally put into port, the sailors had no memory of their odyssey. The captain’s father never recovered from the shock, fell silent, gave up his job and died soon after. There is evidence that he learned a truth about himself in those days when time stood still. One that is now also waiting for his daughter – and unfortunately also for the readership.

Because this novel, which is as light as a feather and exciting over the longest stretch, also belongs to those that are better left unfinished, whose size and beauty are not revealed in the resolution of a plot, but in the balance, in the mystery.

It is recommended to read up to the 137th page at the most. After that, not only does the fog over the sea break up again, the captain also has to quickly find a love interest and happiness on land. Very simply and hastily all the loose ends of existence are now tied up. Rather than disembark like this, one would continue on the ghost ship, listen to the rhythm of its heartbeat, and tentatively stick a toe in the ocean.

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