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69 pages 2 hours read

Caleb Azumah Nelson

Open Water

Fiction | Novel | Adult | Published in 2021

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Prologue-Chapter 4Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Prologue Summary

Content Warning: This text discusses systemic racism, police violence, and the death of a Black man.

Open Water opens with the protagonist and his lover at a barbershop. While cutting the lover’s hair, the barber catches the narrator and the woman watching each other in the mirror. The barber proclaims, “you two are in something” (1), identifying the two as a couple in some kind of intense relationship. When their eye contact is briefly broken, the narrator reflects that love is both cause for concern and for joy.

As the young man and his unnamed lover walk at night afterwards, he asks her not to look at him because her eyes force him to be truthful. The narration becomes reflective, repeating, “[y]ou came here to” while listing what are eventually revealed to be reasons for writing the text (2). These include the following: to depict falling in love with one’s closest friend, to explore the interconnection between shame and desire, and to ask the lover if she remembers their first kiss.

The narrator remarks that feeling lust for one’s best friend is an unusual experience. He states that he cries under covers in the darkness.

Chapter 1 Summary

It is the night that the narrator meets his future lover in a pub basement during a birthday party. The young man takes his friend Samuel aside, saying that he’s about to make an atypical request. Samuel teases him that such a disclaimer usually means the narrator has actually done this before. The protagonist asks Samuel to make an introduction between himself and the woman, Samuel’s friend.

The narrator imagines a background fantasy for the coming meeting, giving it a soundtrack of upbeat classic R&B with everyone dancing “like it was the eighties” (3)—with liberation. He interrupts this by remembering that he swore honesty and describes himself going for a handshake before clumsily hugging the woman. The two have nothing to say, but the interaction doesn’t feel awkward. Samuel informs his friends that they are both artists, a photographer and a dancer. The conversation takes off and the narrator notices that the woman has the same south-east London accent that he does.

The narrator offers to get the woman a drink before realizing that Samuel looks hurt because he’s been left out of their chat. The narrator offers to get everyone drinks, which makes the woman laugh. Suddenly, he is pulled away to take a photo of the birthday girl blowing out the candles on her cake. From there, the young man continues to take photos of the partiers. When he is able to separate himself from the mass of people, he looks for the woman whom he just met, but she has left.

Chapter 2 Summary

The narrator explains that winter “is the wrong season to have a crush” (6). Summer is the correct season when a new love interest is invigorating. The narrator imagines going outside with someone to get away from a sweaty party, smoking a cigarette in the hot night and watching the paler blue of the summer sky.

He describes the woman he met at the pub to his younger brother, Freddie, getting frustrated when Freddie says that he was drunk and can’t remember seeing her. The two men sit drinking tea and listening to records, which scratch at the end and beginning of the side. Freddie asks what the narrator is going to do about his crush, and he admits that he doesn’t know because the woman is actually dating Samuel. Though he does not shame his older brother, Freddie suggests that the narrator cut off his interest in Samuel’s girlfriend.

The narration asks how it is possible to halt the seed of desire once it is acknowledged, although the narration also points out that desire often goes unreturned. This leads the narrator back to his preference for summer flings, as there is so much more to distract oneself from a crush. He notes that in summer he parties and makes many brief connections, whereas in winter he stays home. However, the chapter ends with the idea that, “to resolve desire, it’s better to let the thing bloom” (9) and allow oneself to feel the possibility.

Chapter 3 Summary

The narrator recalls a terrible summer when his grandmother died, which he sensed through intuition at the time. He imagines an interaction with his grandmother in which she cooks and he tells her about the woman that made such an impression on him at a bar. Though he frames it as “a memory of a different time” (10), the scene is in future tense.

In response to his gushing about his crush, the narrator’s grandmother is lightly amused and encourages her grandson to continue. He tells her that both he and the woman minimized their artistic careers in their first encounter. His grandmother asks why, and the protagonist hazards that it was out of fear of greater loss.

The grandmother points out that “[t]here’s no solace in the shade” (11), and the narrator agrees but says the meeting was too short and a bad time for a deeper interaction. His grandmother returns that it never feels like a good moment for such things.

The sky over the interaction gets darker, as the young man explains that the woman made him feel something new. His grandmother uses the same seed metaphor the narrator used in Chapter 2 to express that such a feeling can only expand. The narrator agrees. He tries to explain that he intuitively knew the woman and knew that he would see her in the future. Confirming that this scene is a fantasy, the narrator imagines that his grandmother would let this be the last word on the subject and laugh.

Chapter 4 Summary

In the last days of December 2017, the narrator and the woman get together at a bar. They sit on a green sofa and jump into wide-ranging conversation with a surprising intimacy. The narrator feels that they create their own world on the sofa, separate from the hostile one around them.

The woman asks why the narrator downplayed his work as a photographer. He tries to articulate that he wants to protect his creative work and that someone else calling him a photographer honors their perception more than his own. She asks why another’s perception changes what he thinks of himself, teasing him when he sidesteps the question. He eventually explains that “when you let people in and you make yourself vulnerable, they’re able to have an effect on you” (13).

Deflecting questions about her dancing, the woman asks the narrator for his feedback on her idea to create an archive of Black people through photography. He pretends that he isn’t interested, which prompts her to hide in her coat. When he tells the truth that he wants to be involved, they get celebratory drinks at a new bar. The two get giddily drunk, the woman reaching for reflected city lights like she could hold them and briefly dropping her head into the narrator’s lap.

They go to Shake Shack and listen to music on shared headphones while they eat. The narration poses the question of whether anyone noticed the deep connection happening in that Shake Shack. They take the London Underground southeast and continue listening to music on her headphones. She asks what the narrator’s favorite song is, prompting a discussion about rapper Isaiah Rashad’s first album. The narrator doesn’t share that he listened to this album constantly the summer that his grandmother died, especially the song “Brenda” about the rapper’s own grandma. He chooses a different song on the album for them to listen to. Another Black couple witnesses the narrator and the woman singing along joyfully.

Neither want the night to be over, so the narrator goes to the woman’s apartment (which she shares with her mother) to have tea. They are careful to avoid physical intimacy. The woman remarks that her mother doesn’t often warm to people like she did to the narrator.

At a phone notification, the woman states that Samuel is coming over. The doorbell rings as the narrator says that he ought to leave. The interaction between the three of them is awkward, and the narrator feels ashamed, although he has been careful “not to breach a border” (18). He knows that the seed of desire is growing despite it being winter. Wearing a green coat, the woman walks him outside and he agrees that he’ll text her.

Prologue-Chapter 4 Analysis

Open Water is written in second person, a narrative choice that Caleb Azumah Nelson has explained as an effort to make the reading experience “intimate and immersive” since the reader is addressed as though they are carrying out the action (Pearce, Isabella, Robathan, Hannah, and Washington-Ihieme, Mariochukwu. “Caleb Azumah Nelson on Open Water.” Shado, May 6, 2021). He often combines second person with a musical sensibility and rhythm in the text using repetition and anaphora. The latter term refers to the use of a repeated phrase at the beginning of clauses or sentences; for example, “you came here to” begins three successive paragraphs at the end of the prologue (2). This particular formulation of “you came here to…” is repeated throughout Chapter 28; thus the prologue lays the foundation for the book’s structural symmetry. This structural choice reflects choruses in songs, harmonic loops in jazz, and the rondo form, which maintains a principal musical theme while interspersing it with contrasting themes. Given that the narrator describes Black music as “the greatest expression of Blackness” midway through the novel (99), the form of a book reflects its content.

On a smaller scale, symmetry is also present within these chapters, which reflects the novel’s sense that the narrator and the woman are soulmates with near-identical backgrounds. Chapter 1 begins and ends with the couple’s description of their meeting as “a night [they] both negate as too brief an encounter” (3). The narrator’s interaction with Freddie in Chapter 2 is bracketed by his musings on winter as a bad time for crushes because he doesn’t “make it out of the house” (8). Chapter 3 is a self-contained “memory of a different time” (10-11), while Chapter 4 has a more imagistic framing, beginning with “a set of stairs” and “a green felt sofa” (12) and closing with the woman “don[ning] an enormous green coat and walk[ing the narrator] down the stairs” (19). This is more reminiscent of the ternary form in music, which is a three-part structure in which the opening and ending themes are the same, enclosing a separate middle section. Music is a significant motif in these chapters, and the structure emphasizes the importance of music to the narrator and the novel.

These chapters introduce the protagonist and the woman who becomes his best friend and then his lover. The prologue makes clear that their connection will be central to the novel, though the barber’s words, “some people call it a relationship, some call it friendship, some call it love” (1), leave ambiguity about the nature of the pair’s closeness, meaning that both reader and narrator experience parallel uncertainty about the relationship. Azumah Nelson portrays the artistic nature of both main characters and their shared self-consciousness about their practices: The woman “shakes her head” about being described as a dancer and the narrator refuses the word photographer to say, “I take pictures, sometimes” (4). At their second meeting, the narrator elaborates on this, explaining that he “want[s] to protect that” creative part of his life (13). Although, at first, the narrator worries that “there is no guarantee of reciprocation” (8), meaning he doesn’t know whether the woman is at all Interested in him, their mutual attraction is laid bare in Chapter 4. “You feel you have never been strangers” (17), explains the narrator, and this confidence in their fundamental connection continues throughout the novel despite external issues.

All of the novel’s themes are also present in these opening chapters. The Liberating Power of Black Art and Community shapes Chapter 1, in which the narrator imagines “the dance floor heav[ing] and the young moved like it was the eighties” (3), explaining this as an expression of freedom. The motif of music brings the protagonist and the woman together; their singing along to the same song is “a small joy, but a joy nonetheless” (17). This joy is significant in a novel in which Azumah Nelson explores The Emotional Consequences of Oppression. Though being with his future lover soothes the narrator, he describes everything outside of them as a “world which has a tendency to engulf even the most alive” (12), referring to the debilitating effects of systemic racism on Black lives. This manifests in the narrator’s self-protective impulses, from minimizing his photography because he “couldn’t lose any more […] [of] the things [he] loved” (10) to his resistance to “let[ting] people in and [making himself] vulnerable” (13). This is a formative character trait that negatively affects the narrator’s relationship with the woman in the long run, foreshadowed by the repetition of “you don’t tell her” when he withholds the personal importance of a particular song from the woman despite their connection (16).

The parallel themes of The Difference Between Looking and Seeing and The Failures of Language also make appearances in these first chapters. The regularly repeated line, “[t]he gaze requires no words at all; it is an honest meeting” (2), appears in the prologue. This quote summarizes these linked themes and becomes a refrain through Open Water at times of powerful connection. In Chapter 4, the narrative uses direct address to “ask the general public” if “anyone [saw] or [heard] two strangers performing their truths for each other?” (15). This counters the invisibilization of Black people in society and provokes the reader to think of their own gaze as significant. Azumah Nelson hints at language’s insufficiency when Samuel’s body language “betrays he’s feeling shut out” (4), his physicality communicating what words cannot.

Chapter 2 features the symbol of the seed of desire, love, and connection. The notion that “it’s better to let the thing bloom” equates growth with blooming (9), which is a metaphor that suffuses the first half of Open Water. The protagonist’s grandmother encourages the connection between the woman and her grandson in his imagination by saying, “when you sow a seed, it will grow” (11). Samuel’s appearance at the woman’s house causes the narrator to acknowledge “the seed [that he] pushed deep into the ground has blossomed in the wrong season” (19), meaning that the connection between him and the woman is undeniable but not socially acceptable given her relationship with Samuel. Accompanying this symbol is the narrator’s first mention of winter as a challenging season, noting that “in the winter, more times, [he doesn’t] make it out of the house” (8), which subtly hints that his depression is more severe during this season.

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