Lungfish
A Novel
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- $20.99
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- $20.99
Publisher Description
A New York Times Book Review Editors' Choice
Longlisted for The Center for Fiction 2022 First Novel Prize
Finalist for the Maine Literary Award for Fiction
"Lungfish is a force of nature—a deeply felt marvel of a book that navigates grief, parenthood, and the mysteries of family with unrelenting power and precision. Here is a story about the islands we build and carry with us. Here is storytelling at its best." —Paul Yoon, author of Snow Hunters and Run Me to Earth
Tuck is slow to understand the circumstances that have driven her family to an uninhabited island off the coast of Maine, the former home of her deceased grandmother where she once spent her childhood summers. Squatting there now, she must care for her spirited young daughter and scrape together enough money to leave before winter arrives—or before they are found out.
Relying on the island for sustenance and answers—bladderwrack, rosehips, tenacious little green crabs; smells held by the damp walls of the house, field guides and religious texts, a failed invention left behind by her missing father—Tuck lives moment-by-moment through the absurdity, beauty, paranoia, and hunger that shoots through her life, as her husband struggles to detox.
Exquisitely written and formally daring, Lungfish tells the story of a woman grappling through the lies she has been told—and those she has told herself—to arrive at the truth of who she is and where she must go. Meghan Gilliss’s debut is a brilliant and heartbreaking novel about addiction, doubt, marriage, motherhood, and learning to see in the dark.
PUBLISHERS WEEKLY
Gilliss debuts with a pungent and riveting story set on a tiny, isolated Maine island. After Tuck's grandmother dies, the family's island house is left to her father, but he's been missing ever since Tuck was in high school. Tuck's family desperately needs a change from their "strange, failed home" in Pittsburgh, so she surreptitiously moves to the island with her husband, Paul, and her young daughter, Agnes. Once they arrive, Paul, who is addicted to kratom, an opioid herbal extract, goes through an excruciating detox. When he's mobile, money disappears; when he isn't, there isn't enough food or gas, and the mainland is only accessible by boat. In memorable sequences, Tuck and Agnes forage for sustenance, stretching their diets over the summer to accommodate little more than seaweed and mussels (when Tuck throws a starfish back in the water, Agnes screams in hunger). Tuck also makes a bit of money by designing and printing comical bumper stickers, which she sells on the mainland. As she puts off telling the pesky executor about her father's long-ago disappearance, she wonders if the family could make a go of it through the winter. Gilliss shines with a lyrical style and bold, fragmented structure, as Tuck's frequent meditations on lungfish, which can go without food for three years and survive in "the hardest place, the intertidal zone," contrast with her own predicament. Indeed, Tuck's resilience makes her an indelible creation. Out of a tangible sense of desperation, Gilliss produces a triumph.
