The Water Cure

A complex novel that one has to work at, but ultimately a rewarding one, made all the more so when you appreciate the subtle genius of Mackintosh's writing. The lyrical and hypnotic cadence of The Water Cure makes it hard to locate either the place or the time in which the novel's events take place. In this sense, Ishiguro is a good comparator. Other influences would be as diverse as Robinson Crusoe and Jeffrey Eugenides' The Virgin Suicides, but perhaps the most significant shadow is cast by Shakespeare. There are elements of both King Lear (a patriarch fearful of losing control of his kingdom; there are also three daughters in his and Mackintosh's works) and The Tempest (noble savages invading a notional idyll). Ultimately the focus of The Water Cure is about the convenient lies we tell both ourselves and others in order to retain our accustomed way of life. If that means the effective repression of women — Mackintosh's point — then so be it. Needless to say, when the old foundations are dismantled and previous convictions are shown just to be shallow lies, then the consequences are devastating. Mira (the narrator of section two) has a weaker voice than Grace (the de facto narrator of the other sections) and this somewhat lets The Water Cure down. Were the characters more forceful, then it might be easier for the reader to believe in them. Curiously, the youngest sister (Skye) has no narrative perspective — a disappointment, I felt. It's easy to see the potential of Mackintosh and I look forward to reading her next, Blue Ticket. 7/10.

By Sophie Mackintosh