Nathan Harris (1) (1992–)

'Yet sometimes - just sometimes - hope was enough'

Review: Book #5 for #bookstagramreadsthebooker The Sweetness of Water by Nathan Harris

The Sweetness of Water will reinforce your love for historical fiction and if you aren't in love with it already, It will surely put you on the track towards loving it.

I don't want to get into the details about the story because it isn't exactly what spoke to me, however strong it was. What spoke to me was how well written the characters were.

We are talking about a time after the civil war when slavery had recently been abolished but not everyone were out of the 'Superiority complex'. (It's funny how it's still the case)

With a forbidden romance, hardworking brothers employed by a humble and honest man which doesn't sit well with the society, a murder and everything that follows, the novel ensures to keep us enthralled as it is unravelled.

Have you ever seen anyone being distressed by someone's pure and calm intentions? It's funny how we live in a world where we need to preach to 'live, let live'. It's hilarious how not only will someone voluntarily choose not to extend a helping hand but also goes to great lengths to make sure that others don't either.

This book celebrates the good in people. It celebrates the strength that comes with pure intentions and the power that reverberates with kindness.

Now, I am not sure if it's the situations I am surrounded by at the moment that made me focus on this aspect more or it is what I would have connected with irrespective of the situations. Whatever the reason, I am glad to picked this book up and celebrated the 'Good' as I read it.

This is a brilliant debut novel by Nathan Harris. I cannot wait to read more from him. This is definitely a contender for the shortlist.… (mais)

The log beneath him yawned and George's rear end sank into the waterlogged mess. Only as he moved to stand, to pat himself dry, did he see them sitting before him. Two Negroes, similar in dress: white cotton shirts unbuttoned, britches as ragged as if they'd fitted their legs into intertwined gunnysacks. They stood stock still, and as if the blanket before them had not swayed in the wind like some flag to signal their presence, they might have disappeared in the foreground entirely. The closer one spoke up. "We got lost, sir. Don't mind us. We'll be moving on."… (mais)