Fishfolk

I read this book under the impression that it was set in a dystopian future, a world ravaged by climate change. It wasn’t until I reached the author’s note at the end that I realised it’s actually set 8,000 years in the past. That duality – feeling both ancient and futuristic – makes it an outstanding fable about what happens to humanity when the land they rely on is literally shifting beneath them.

The story follows twins Oona and Luna, who live with their grandfather, Mull, on a windswept, isolated island they call ‘The High and Dry’. Mull tells them stories of the past and of the fearsome, magical Fishfolk – creatures said to be bent on destroying humans, especially the girls. But when Oona and Luna encounter a Fishfolk themselves, they begin to question everything they’ve been told. The truth, it turns out, is complex and deeply rooted in survival, fear, and misunderstanding.

What truly sets this book apart is its inventive use of language. Oona and Luna speak in a distinctive vocabulary and rhythm that mirrors the wild, unpredictable natural world around them. Though written in prose, the narrative often feels like a verse novel, employing concrete poetry techniques to powerful effect. In one striking moment, pages filled with repeated ‘OOOOOOOO’ convey the thick, disorienting silence of the ‘Fogwall’ more vividly than description ever could.

This is a book of big ideas and bold execution. It explores the resilience of humanity, the brutality of survival, and the fragility of the stories we tell ourselves. It doesn’t shy away from the darker realities of life – there are scenes of death, cruelty, and fear – but they are handled with honesty and purpose.

Ultimately, this is a beautifully written, thought-provoking story about humanity’s relationship with the natural world – how we adapt, how we endure, and how we understand one another across differences. It is poetic, unsettling, and possibly, in the end, hopeful.